AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“In there somewhere,” I said vaguely.
Gideon held up Lesley’s mother’s spectacle case. “In this?”
“No!” I cried, and in my alarm my blancmange existence came to a sudden end. I jumped up, snatched the case containing the Japanese vegetable knife from Gideon’s hand, and flung it back in my bag. If Gideon was surprised, he didn’t show it. He put the chair back by the wall and looked at his watch again, while I took out my hairbrush.
“How much time do we have left?”
“Two minutes,” said Gideon, picking up the iPod from the floor. How it had ended up there I had no idea. Or when.
I hastily brushed my hair.
Gideon was watching me with a serious expression on his face. “Gwyneth?”
“Hm?” I lowered the hairbrush and returned his gaze as calmly as I could. Oh, my God—he looked so incredibly good, and a part of me was trying to turn back into blancmange again.
“Do you…?”
I waited. “What?”
“Oh, nothing.”
The familiar dizzy feeling was spreading through me. “I think we’re off,” I said.
“Hold tight to your bag. Whatever happens, you mustn’t let go of it. And come this way a bit, or you’ll land on the table.”
Even as I was moving toward him, everything blurred in front of my eyes. Only fractions of a second later, I made a soft landing on my feet, right in front of the wide-eyed Mr. Marley. The gargoyle was looking over his shoulder, grinning.
“At last,” said Xemerius. “I’ve had to listen to Ginger here talking to himself for the last fifteen minutes.”
“Are you all right, Miss Shepherd?” asked Mr. Marley, taking a step back.
“She’s fine,” said Gideon, who had landed behind me and was now looking me up and down. When I smiled at him he quickly moved aside.
Mr. Marley cleared his throat. “I’m to tell you you’re expected in the Dragon Hall, sir. The Inner Cir—Number Seven has arrived and wants to see you. If you’ll allow me, I’ll take Miss Shepherd to her car.”
o;Can anyone make any sense of these prophesies?”
“Oh, yes—they’re teeming with symbols. It’s just a question of how to interpret them.” He looked at his watch. “We have some time left. I think we ought to go on with our dancing lessons.”
“Will there be dancing at the soirée, too?”
“Probably not,” said Gideon. “Only eating, drinking, talking—and making music. You’re sure to be asked to play or sing something.”
“Hm,” I said. “I ought to have had piano lessons instead of going to those hip-hop classes with Lesley. I can sing all right, though. At Cynthia’s party last year I won the karaoke contest hands down. With my own version of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” Even though I was in costume as a bus stop, which didn’t suit me.”
“Er … yes. If anyone asks you to sing, you simply say you never have any voice when you have to sing in company.”
“So I can say that, but I can’t say I’ve sprained my ankle?”
“Here, put the earphones on. Repeat performance.” He bowed to me.
“What do I do if someone else—I mean, not you—asks me to dance or sing or something?” I sank into my curtsey.
“Exactly the same as if I do,” said Gideon, taking my hand. “But as far as that’s concerned, everything was very formal in the eighteenth century. You didn’t just ask a girl you didn’t know to dance without being officially introduced to her.”
“Unless she made some kind of obscene movement with her fan.” The dance steps were beginning to come naturally. “Whenever I flicked my fan even an inch upstairs there, Giordano had a nervous breakdown, and Charlotte shook her head like a sad spaniel flapping its ears.”
“She only wants to help you,” said Gideon.
