Chapter Eleven~
The room had an austere presence about it. Portraits of critical public servants from bygone days adorned the place. There were the odd couple of plants to give it some color, though here, they were dying.
Three bubblegum-colored plastic chairs served the room, one used in a corner by a silent demoness leafing through a newspaper.
The other two were positioned before the large desk in the center rear of the room. Although there were shelves and subordinate desks made of laminated wood and steel here, the desk in the center was created with true timber under the insistence of Principal Ruth Despairity.
This, to her, was the nexus of her working world, the focus of her authority when she was here, her throne, as it were.
And now, said authority sat on her throne, staring at a contrite Mrs. Mayberry as if contemplating a sentence on the condemned.
Mayberry couldn't even enjoy sitting on one of the two chairs, having wisely opted to stand to receive her dressing down before class that morning.
The demoness had earned educational degrees to become a teacher and had the experience to back it up, but now her tail lay flat on the floor, and she couldn't help feeling like a little girl called, literally, to the Principal's Office.
"I can explain what happened last night, Principal Despairity."
Despairity, a short, portly Imp in spectacles, a snug dress suit, and short-cut hair, wore her authority like a comfortable pair of old slippers. She looked up from her paperwork to address Mayberry stonily.
"No need," she said coolly. "Obviously, it was Fan's Night at the arena. However, I confess that I wouldn't have thought you to be one."
"Yes, ma'am."
"I can't control what you do on your off-hours, Mrs. Mayberry, but you do represent this school. Remember, you may have demonstrated the power of strength, but I can demonstrate the power of dismissal. I'll leave it to you to decide which is the more potent. Good day."
Despite the reprimand, May put that out of her mind to deal with a possible red flag. How much did Ruth know or see last night?
"Uh, pardon me for asking, Principal Despairity." Mayberry demurred. "But, how did you know that I was out there?"
"You have class, Mrs. Mayberry," the principal reminded her.
"Yes, ma'am," Mayberry quietly replied, turning away from the administrator and giving a short glance to the woman in the corner. It was tough enough to have Despairity come down on her without an audience to witness it.
With the door closed softly, Despairity's guest calmly asked without lifting her head from the paper, "Have you ever heard of this Guardian Demon?"
Despairity ignored the question, focusing instead on the subordinate who left as she puffed up and turned her attention to the female in the corner.
"Oh! Do you see what I have to deal with, Your Grace?" she asked. "Sometimes I wonder why I hired that...that Sinner."
"She was in good standing with an Overlord, apparently. Came quite recommended."
"Her whole approach to teaching is ridiculous with all that singing and dancing," Despairity continued. "And moral lessons? I don't understand. Children come here to learn, not to be entertained and preached to. They have cable for that."
The guest shrugged. "And you think there are grounds for dismissal, Principal Despairity? She seems...fine. Her class really likes her, and there haven't been any complaints from their parents so far."
The principal sighed. "You are far more gracious than I, Your Grace, but I tell you that she is a troublemaker. One this school could do without."
A sly smile played along the demoness's lips. "Now, now. Let's not clutch our pearls too tightly. None of us are...perfect, are we?"
Ruth fell silent. Contrition was becoming contagious today.
The demoness in the corner stood up and placed the newspaper in the chair. An alabaster mask adorned with veils, and simple feminine features suddenly appeared, covering the female's face. Her body stayed lean yet began to lengthen, and her modern clothes swirled to become medieval and stately robes.
The mask detached and floated to one side of the figure's head, joining a white, studded, masculine one that floated on the other side. The face of an androgynous male demon sporting a bowl-cut hairstyle under a dark, plumed hat glanced down at the principal with an aloof look.
He then favored the administrator with a relaxed yet comforting smile. "If it makes you feel better, I'll keep an eye on our Mrs. Mayberry for you. It wouldn't do for you to be stressed out because of our little songbird, would it?"
"Thank you, Duke Dantalion." a vindicated Despairity breathed.
"Don't mention it."
Mayberry felt a dread accompanying her with ever echoing clip-clop of her hooves in the hall. Was it too late to back down from what had happened? To walk away? Pretend that everything was back to normal, now?
She closed in on the door ahead, and a decision was demanded of her. She had to face what was on the other side.
She closed her eyes and touched the door knob.
"I just hope the kids didn't see me last night," she fretted. "I don't want to set a bad example for them."
Putting on a bright smile, she walked into the classroom and got in a "Good morning, class" before the shock took her.
Children blasted her with cheers and a crayon-colored banner in front of the blackboard that read: "World's Greatest Wrestler."
Mayberry covered her blushing face, trying to hide her embarrassment under a chanting "Broad of Education" barrage.
Later, she'd find out how they managed to come up with all of this on such short notice. But for now, she just knew they loved her, and she'd try to live down their rabid admiration for the rest of the day.
With a lopsided smile, she thought, 'At least they mean well.'
"Well, that's how my night went," Mayberry related between sips of her coffee to Blitzo from their outdoor table at Grave's Café later that evening.
She wisely decided to omit everything else that led up to it. No sense in making his life any more eventful than hers. "I guess I'm just a closet fan of the ring, and I got carried away. My class thinks I'm a big hero, and it got even crazier in the teachers' lounge. I'm flattered, but it's so embarrassing. I'm surprised I made it here without being mobbed."
Blitzo calmly drank his iced coffee while he listened.
"But, if anyone asks me for an autograph," she continued with another sip. "I'll trust that you'll do the right thing, as a friend and a professional, and walk me to the nearest alleyway to finish me off."
May looked up to see Blitzo's face breaks open in a huge grin.
At first, she worried that he would take her up on that request and not wait for autograph hounds to bring it about. But then, when she saw the sheepish pleading in the smile, it set Mayberry even more on edge.
"What? It was a joke, Blitz."
He put down his drink and revealed a black mortarboard and a white marker from under the table.
Mortified, she bowed her head into her crossed arms on the tabletop to hide her face.
"Ugh! Just...make it look like an accident," she moaned. "Please?"
Across the street rested a motorcycle on its curb. It was stylishly well-made with brilliant chrome fixtures matching its fat engine and golden fenders that matched a gas tank stamped on both sides with a gleaming white wing.
A lanky demon youth, whose good looks couldn't be overshadowed by his tracksuit and sneakers, gave curious glances at the couple in the café, notably the woman.
He touched an earpiece and spoke to someone on the other side with a cocky tone.
"Well, I'll be damned...again! Guys, you won't believe this, but I think we've got another one!"