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“And demons,” Xemerius pointed out.
“In mythology, the raven stands for the link between human beings and the world of the gods. Ravens carry messages between the living and the dead.” Lesley turned her file my way, so that I could read what she had found on the Internet about ravens. “You have to admit your abilities suit that very well.”
“Your hair too,” said Xemerius. “Black as a raven’s wings.”
I was biting my lower lip. “But in the prophesies it sounds so—oh, I don’t know, so important and powerful and all that. As if the magic of the raven was some kind of secret weapon.”
“It could be that as well,” said Lesley. “You have to stop thinking it’s only a kind of strange eccentricity allowing you to see ghosts.”
“And demons,” Xemerius repeated.
“I’d love to know exactly what those prophesies say,” said Lesley. “It would be so interesting to have the full text.”
“Charlotte can certainly rattle them all off by heart,” I said. “I think she learnt them when she was being taught the mysteries. And everyone talks about them in rhyme. The Guardians. Even my mum. And Gideon.”
I quickly turned away so that Lesley wouldn’t see my eyes suddenly filling with tears, but it was too late.
“Oh, sweetie, don’t start crying again!” She handed me a tissue. “You’re making too much of it.”
“No, I’m not. Remember how you cried for days on end over Max?” I said, sniffing.
“Of course,” said Lesley. “It was only six months ago.”
“Well, now I can imagine how you felt at the time. And I suddenly understand why you wished you were dead.”
“How stupid could I get! You sat with me the whole time telling me Max wasn’t worth another thought, not after the way he’d behaved. And you told me to brush my teeth—”
“Yes, and we were listening to Abba’s ‘The Winner Takes It All’ played in an endless loop.”
“I can play that song for you,” offered Lesley, “if it’d make you feel any better.”
“It wouldn’t. But you can hand me the Japanese vegetable knife. Then I can commit hara-kiri.” I let myself drop on my bed, and closed my eyes.
“Girls always have to be so dramatic!” said Xemerius. “The boy’s in a bad temper, looks grouchy because someone hit him on the head, and you think it’s the end of the world.”
“It’s because he doesn’t love me,” I said despairingly.
“You can’t know that,” said Lesley. “With Max, unfortunately, I did know, because half an hour after he dumped me, he was seen snogging in the cinema with that Anna. You can’t accuse Gideon of doing a thing like that. He’s rather … changeable, that’s all.”
“But why? You should have seen the way he looked at me! Kind of repelled. As if I was a … a woodlouse! I can’t bear it.”
“A moment ago, you said you were a chair.” Lesley shook her head. “Come on, pull yourself together. Mr. George is right: love comes in at the window and common sense flies out. Listen, we’re on the point of making a tremendous breakthrough!”
Earlier that morning, when she had just arrived and we were sitting comfortably on my bed together, Mr. Bernard had knocked at my bedroom door—something he never usually did—and put a tea tray down on my desk.
“A little refreshment for you young ladies,” he had said.
I’d looked at him in astonishment. I couldn’t remember ever having seen him up on this floor of the house before.
“Since you were asking about it recently, I took the liberty of searching in the library,” Mr. Bernard had gone on, studying us gravely with his owlish eyes above the rim of his glasses. “And as I expected, I found what I wanted.”
“What is it?” I’d asked.
Mr. Bernard had lifted the napkin on the tray to reveal a book lying there. “The Green Rider,” he had said. “If I remember correctly, this is what you were looking for.”
Lesley had jumped to her feet and picked up the book. “Oh, but I’ve already looked at this in the public library,” she said. “It’s nothing special.”
Mr. Bernard had smiled indulgently. “The reason you say that, I think, is that the copy you found in the public library was never the property of Lord Montrose. However, this one may interest you.” Then he left the room, with a little bow, and Lesley and I had fallen on the book at once. A piece of paper on which someone had written masses of numbers in tiny handwriting had fluttered to the floor. Lesley’s cheeks had turned red with excitement.
