Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
The woman reaches into her cloak and pulls out a blue handkerchief that looks like the one I had earlier. I quickly pat my coat pocket but am not surprised to find it gone.
“Mage,” I manage to say.
“Pardon me?”
“I’m a mage, not a witch.” I scowl, narrowing my eyes at her.
“Semantics,” she says, holding out the handkerchief. “Take it. You left it at the opium den.”
“You were there with me too?” I ask bitterly, swiping my handkerchief from her. I’ve never met anyone with these sorts of powers. It’s practically grotesque.
“Shadow magic,” she says, a self-assured smile on her lips. “Renders one invisible in the dark. It’s one of my many gifts. Gifts that you will soon have if you come join me.”
I shake my head, raising my hand dismissively as I take a step backward. “Look, Madame Witch, you seem like a nice person, but I think we’re going to have to part ways. You see, I’m quite happy here.” I gesture to the city. “I like New York. I don’t want to leave. And I’m definitely not doing so for some handkerchief-stealing woman I met on the street.”
She remains unfazed. “This college is only thirty miles north of here. In the state.”
“It’s not the state I love,” I say, stepping backward. “It’s the city. And as I said, I am quite happy. So very happy. Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s late, and I need to sleep for several days.”
I turn around, hoping she will let it be and go find some other hapless professor to teach at her school. I walk a few feet, look behind my shoulder, and see her standing there under the streetlight. The further away I walk, the more her features start to meld into nothing again.
No nose, no eyes. Nothing but a thin-lipped smile.
I swallow and turn around, my skin feeling both hot and cold. A bath would be good. A hot bath. A cold bath. Something, anything.
By the time I get into the hotel though, lurching past the old man asleep at the front desk, and to my floor, the communal bathroom is occupied, a bath already running, so I keep going.
I fish out my keys to my room, hands shaking slightly as I turn the lock, then fling the door open and stumble inside. I slam it shut and quickly lock it behind me.
Then I lean back against it, my arms splayed as if to hold it closed, and shut my eyes, trying to take a deep breath.
What the hell was that? Who was that woman? Did she really know all that information about me through my handkerchief, or had she been following me for years?
How much did she really know?
I exhale, trying to urge my heart to calm down. I open my eyes. Even in the dark, my room is a disaster. Clothes on the floor, my bed unmade, and a plate of half-eaten roast chicken that I had gotten down the street sits on the window sill.
For a moment, I see my life through her eyes. For a moment, I see where I started and see how far I’ve fallen. For a moment, I wonder if I’ve made a mistake in walking away.
Then, a shadow moves away from the wall.
I open my mouth, and a scream dies in my throat. It’s not just that I couldn’t find the strength to scream but that my voice was taken from me. Stolen from my throat.
“Quiet,” the woman hisses. “Do you want to wake up your neighbors? Do you want them to know what you are? A troublemaker and a drug addict is something this lurid city will accept. A witch is not.”
She steps away from the wall, and the lamps around us flicker to life, casting the room in moving shadows. I swear I see eyes in those shadows, watching me. Black snakes that writhe in and out of my vision.
“What do you want from me?” I manage to say.
“I want you at Sleepy Hollow Institute,” she says, pressing her thin hands together in a motion of prayer. “Your background plus your magic makes you a top contender as a schoolmaster.”
I frown. “Sleepy Hollow Institute?”
“I don’t blame you for not knowing what it is.”
“Oh, I know what it is,” I say, letting out a deep breath. My shoulders drop slightly now that she’s mentioned a place that actually exists, not a mystical hut in the woods. “A lot of brilliant minds have come from there…or so your school’s campaign wants people to think.”
She gives me a grin that isn’t exactly kind. “Because it’s true. We do brilliant things with brilliant people.”
I stare at her for a moment, trying to think. Despite the fright I’ve had, the opium is still in my veins. “What do these brilliant people have to do with magic and witchcraft?”