Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 130924 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 655(@200wpm)___ 524(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130924 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 655(@200wpm)___ 524(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
She gives me a tight, fleeting smile, not intimidated by me in the slightest. I could be seven feet tall like the horseman and it wouldn’t matter to a witch like her because no matter what, her magic will always be stronger than mine.
For now, at least.
Her thin brows come together as she studies me with a discerning eye.
“You’ve learned something new,” she says warily.
“And what’s that?”
“You’ve learned to block your thoughts,” she says, tapping the side of her greying temple.
Now my smile is genuine. “Yes. A vampire once taught me how to do that. I just didn’t think I would need to use it on anyone.” She’s been trying to do that to me ever since the day she stalked me outside the opium joint.
“Vampire,” she says sourly. “I’m surprised you were able to get close to one.”
“Oh, I think I’d be able to surprise you with a lot of things,” I tell her, an edge coming to my voice. I clasp my hands behind my back. “Now, I can tell you have something on your mind.”
“I do,” she says. “A lot, as it is. Will you accompany me to my office?”
Hmmm. Perhaps Daniels was right about me being in trouble.
But I have no choice but to follow. I don’t think telling her I need herbs for a student I shot last night would be a good idea. Besides, now I want to know what’s on her mind.
She turns and gestures back to the cathedral. The mist is obscuring most of it, making the sharp spires look like nails suspended in air.
We walk down the path and let the sage drift down from my fingers as I go. After Kat went off to be with her mother, I had left Brom in his dorm room since there’s no need for him to be under my supervision until after nightfall. He’s still in some discomfort from being shot and while opium would go a long way, a healing poultice will have to do.
He doesn’t like me taking care of him like this. It’s like when we first met all over again. In need and hating it, hating that I’m the one to do it. He’s ornery and grumpy and has every right to be considering what’s been happening to him. But it doesn’t matter how many times he tells me to take a hike, I’m still going to help him heal. After all, I am the one who put a bullet in him. It’s the least that I can do.
I haven’t been inside the cathedral other than the first day I arrived at school and even then I was in Sister Margaret’s office. The only time I was in the cathedral itself was for the initiation tests, of which I still remember very little.
But here Leona leads me straight through the gargantuan iron doors which swing open for us with a heavy creak, aided only by magic, and she takes me past the glass display cases that showcase crystals, gemstones, and esoteric relics, past the first few offices and into the cathedral proper.
Memories of the tests come back, falling on me like snow. Or perhaps like ash. I remember all the candles being lit, flickering like a rapid heartbeat and throwing soot into the air. The statues that I see now that line the edges of the space seemed bigger back then. I remember thinking they had eyes, though now they’re just blank and still. The stained glass windows threw a multitude of colors on the stone floor, even though my test took place at night. Right now the colors are muted from the fog.
“I’m assuming you’re remembering some of the tests,” she says, glancing at me over her shoulder as we walk down the center of the aisle. On either side of us are a few rows of church pews and then it opens up to big empty space. My footsteps echo loudly as we walk but hers don’t seem to make a sound at all.
It’s damp in here and I can’t help but shiver underneath my wool coat, as if it’s colder than outside, and it smells like hot wax and incense and damp earth.
Finally we approach the altar made of bones, with feathers and candles and chicken feet spread across a wooden slab, and she beckons with her finger for me to follow her even though I don’t know where we could possibly go.
But we go behind the altar and there I see a door in the ground and steps leading to a well-lit basement.
Fear shudders through me for a moment as I remember a fragment of the dream I had. Being in the basement, being with Leona, and suddenly it’s as if my gut is screaming at me to not follow her, that it’s a trap.
We’re all flies in a web.