With Stephen's help and some grumpy cussing on her part, Casey managed to get the boot off her other foot. Her ankle was swollen. When she stood up and tried to put weight on it, she had to sit back down in the chair.

"See, this is why we're careful with magical artifacts," Stephen scolded.

"I get it, I get it."

"It may not be broken, but we won't be able to tell without an x-ray," he said. He knelt down beside the chair so he could examine her ankle, his touch gentle and careful.

She pulled her lips in between her teeth as he touched the outside of her ankle. "Aren't you a neurosurgeon?"

"Yes. But that doesn't mean I'm blind," he said, rolling his eyes at her. "I can tell you need to get this looked at. Or do you not trust my medical degree?"

"You worked on brains. This. This is an ankle. And do you even still have a valid medical license?"

"Wow. Okay. So my medical degree means nothing, good to know. We're still going to the hospital," he said. "Can you go put on normal clothes so people don't look at us like we stumbled in from the renaissance faire?"

"Sure, I wouldn't want to embarrass you," she retorted. She decided to not remind him that the first time she had seen him, he had been wearing his magic man outfit. Still, she would rather not show up around normal people in her current outfit. It definitely stood out.

After Casey had portaled herself upstairs and gingerly changed into street clothes, she met Stephen back in the library. He had also switched clothes, wearing instead a dark t-shirt and jeans. He had his cell phone out, and he was in the midst of texting when he glanced up at her. Extending his arm, he offered her his elbow. "Lean on me."

"When you're not strong," Casey mumbled, adding in the song lyrics. It got a smirk out of music-loving Stephen as she settled her arm onto his. It did make it easier, fully taking the weight off her ankle.

"Glad to see you still have a sense of humor."

"It's fading quick." Her ankle was throbbing now. It was like little razor-knives were being jabbed into her bone. "Do we even have insurance?"

"Actually, yes," he said, conjuring up a portal of his own. "Kamar-Taj has us covered. Oddly enough, it comes with being the resident master in the Sanctum Santorum and extends to family members. Or temporary mentees."

Which meant her. Casey made a mildly impressed noise. At least they had thought ahead. She glanced at the portal and looked up at him. "Is it okay to use this?"

"I've portaled into this custodial closet before," he said.

"Do I need to ask why?"

"I was dying."

"And you didn't portal directly to an operating room why?"

Stephen raised an eyebrow. "What if someone had been in there, in the middle of an operation?"

"Okay, good point."

They stepped through the portal, and Casey leaned most of her weight on Stephen. He balanced her better than she expected. The custodial closet was spic and span; there were shelves of cleaners and solvents, buckets, mops, brooms, plus one of those ridable floor cleaners like they had at her high school. She had always wanted to steal it and take it for a spin.

Casey bit her lip. Man, she would love to sit down right about now instead of standing like a flamingo, injured foot in the air. "This is where you used to work before, right? Shouldn't we have come through the front door?"

"My…friend is going to meet us here."

There was something odd about the way he said friend. That instant of hesitation, like he would've preferred to say something else. If it had been a few months ago, she never would have picked up on it, but they lived in the same magic mansion. She knew more about Stephen these days than most people did.

Casey pulled back and locked her eyes on the side of his face, since he seemed very intent on staring at the door. "What's this friend's name, Stephen?"

He didn't look away from the door. "Christine."

"Does Christine have a last name…?"

"Palmer," he said, finally glancing down at her. "Why?"

"I dunno, just wondering if this a friend or a friend friend."

Stephen's keen blue eyes narrowed. "What does that even mean?"

"Oh, you know what it means," Casey said, managing a wicked smile through her pain. "Are you guys talking or are you dating? Or are you like, starcrossed lovers?"

"I think you might have hit your head, too." Stephen frowned and focused on the door again, waiting. His refusal to answer her questions made it abundantly clear that there was something between the two or had been at some time. If Stephen had a girlfriend, this was the first she had heard about it. Or, hey, maybe 'studying the ancient arts' meant something entirely different than what she thought. "Maybe we'll get you a CAT scan while we're at it."

"Mhmm," Casey said, smugly pleased with herself. "And maybe you and Christine can go out for coffee and just ditch me in the hospital, right?"

"Casey—"

There was a knock on the door, and it opened a crack, allowing a woman to peek in. She had reddish-brown glossy hair, hazel eyes, and an unamused expression on her face. The door opened wider as she stepped inside and then closed it behind her, leaning on the door.

"Are you going to tell me where you got a kid from, Stephen?" she asked, her eyes narrowed as she frowned up at him.

"She's not biologically mine."

"Definitely not," Casey said, rolling her eyes.

"I know that," Christine said. She reached up and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"It's a long story, like I said in my text," he said. "But we really could use your help."

"Yeah, that's the usual." The woman sighed and looked at Casey, her expression softening. "I'm Christine Palmer, since Stephen's not going to introduce us. And you are?"

"Hold on, Christine, you started complaining at me, I haven't had a chance—" Stephen started.

Casey jumped in to interrupt. "I'm Casey Kinmont, and Stephen's my teacher, mentor, house manager, Dumbledore person who is pretending to be my uncle so the law doesn't send me to a foster home."

"Is that right," Christine said, sounding unsurprised. She pressed her lips together tightly. "And how, exactly, did you get hurt?"

"Um…" Well, Christine had to know about magic, right? Otherwise they would've come through the regular doors instead of the supply closet.

"She chose to put on magic boots that she knew nothing about," Stephen said. She could feel him glaring at the top of her head, and she worked not to cringe away. The boots had been cool! Actually, they were still pretty cool. And apparently not evil? She just didn't know how to work them. "Since she wasn't aware of how they worked, she fell through the floor and into the library."

"But I didn't fall into the basement, so give me some credit."

"Because I was there."

"No, because I sort of figured it out a little bit."

Christine held up her hands. "Okay, that's enough." She pinned Casey with a displeased expression. Casey wished she would've reserved that kind of look for Stephen. "Stephen said your ankle was hurt?"

"I landed on it," she said, mildly embarrassed. "I don't think it's broken?"

"But we're not sure," Stephen said.

Christine sighed and ran her hand through her hair, catching a lock of hair that had escaped her ponytail. "All right. We'll do some x-rays, see what's going on, and hopefully send you on your way without a cast." She focused on Stephen again and shook her head, the corner of her mouth quirking up. "Glad to see you wore your street clothes this time."

"I aim to please," he said, sarcasm laced through his words.

With more information on hand, Casey was going to assume that if there was a thing between Christine and Stephen, it was one-sided or it had been a long time ago. Or something. Still, it seemed like there were little sparks zipping between the two of them. This was going to require some more digging on her part. She planned on annoying Stephen endlessly until he told her what was going on. Right after they made sure her ankle wasn't broken.