“Who is she?” I asked.
“Carabosse, a witch.” He scratched his chin. “She avoids me. She avoids everyone. She isn’t popular in the mansion.”
“Why?”
“Myrtha hates her because Cara cursed a girl over an argument with her parents who hadn’t invited her to the girl’s birthday party. Cara hates Graves and his werewolves because of something that happened a long time ago. Alex isn’t fond of her, and witches in general don’t like vampires. She hates me because I’m more powerful than she is.” He flashed a charming grin. “Envy is an ugly beast.”
“The people who live here don’t seem to care for one another.”
“No. It’s a miracle that we don’t kill each other in a bloody fight.” He sighed as if he wished that. “Do you want to try one more time?”
I released a breath and focused. I’d never had friends, but at least in Harlowe House there had been Papa. Living here, where everyone hated everyone, would be a challenge.
Smoke rose from the leaves, and two of them caught fire.
“My goodness.”
Darius drew symbols in the air until the water in the fountain rose in an elegant swan shape and splashed on the leaves, extinguishing the flames.
“Excellent!” He pulled me into a hug, but instinct took over.
I leapt away from him, my chest heaving.
“My apologies.” Blue tendrils of sorrow disturbed his aura.
I cleared my throat. “It’s all right.” But it wasn’t, and I’d behaved just like Alex. “You did nothing wrong. It’s me. I’m still a bit jittery.”
“Is there anything I can do for you?” He rubbed his hands together.
“May I see the library?”
He became serious. “No, you may not. It’s dangerous.”
“I can’t be in danger with an extraordinary mage like you.”
His expression softened. “That’s true, but no one is allowed?—”
“Please. I would love to see it. Just a peek. I trust your magical skills completely.”
When he sighed, I knew I’d won.
My eagerness faded after we climbed up long flights of stairs for twenty minutes. When we arrived at a landing, I was wheezing.
“That’s it.” Hands on his hips, he stood in front of a set of double doors. Ravens were carved in the rich oakwood, clutching a book with their talons. “Stand behind me.”
In a library?
He drew a few symbols, and the doors inched inwards. Draughts hissed out of the opening. As I tiptoed inside, a strong wind cried in my ears and blasted against my face, forcing me to squint. Dust thickened the air, drying my mouth. It was like a sandstorm. I caught a glimpse of a room as large as Westminster Abbey where books flew in a vortex, lifting dirt and chairs.
“That’s the library!” Darius shouted over the howling wind ruffling his hair.
“My goodness,” I yelled back.
When a heavy tome missed my head by an inch, I bolted out.
Darius locked the door. “Terrible, isn’t it?”
“What was that?” I brushed the dirt from my clothes.
