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Thomas stumbles under the weight of all the things he's carrying, and I rush forward to take some from him.
"Is this all really necessary?" I ask.
He nods. "You read the spell, right?"
"More like scanned it," I admit, taking the top box from his pile and setting it on the table in the middle of the secret library. "Daphne filled me in on the rest."
Thomas chuckles. "Why shouldn't I be surprised?"
He brushes past me, our bodies almost touching and reminding me of my moment here with Ryan. The ghost of a kiss traces my lips, and it's all I can do not to lift my fingers there. I don't want to have to explain what I'm feeling to Thomas. Not when I'm not sure how he feels about me.
"What's all this stuff for?" I frown. If I recall what Daphne said, the ceremony is more about where people are standing in relation to me, rather than anything else.
"You can't just do black magic, you have to set everything up for it."
I glance at the pile of things, nerves fluttering in my stomach. It's full of things like black candles and red silks on the outside, but I know underneath there's probably some things that are less savoury.
"How long have you been studying black magic?" The question comes out without me meaning it to, and I'm sure it sounds far ruder than I intend for it too.
Thomas chuckles. "If you mean doing spells, this'll be the first time. If you mean how long I've been researching it for, something like ten years. I've always found it fascinating."
I nod, kind of understanding where he's coming from. There is something intriguing about things we shouldn't be doing. Including black magic. If I didn't have interests in other things, maybe I'd have been researching it myself for that long.
"Are you...excited?" That isn't quite the right word, but I don't know what else to go with.
"I'm nervous." He pulls a set of stone goblets out of one of the boxes, and places it on the table. "And intrigued. But I wouldn't say excited. This is far too serious for that." He looks straight at me, something deep in his eyes.
I glance away, unable to deal with the emotions I can sense there. I need him to go back to being a little more matter of fact. That I'm able to deal with. This, not so much.
"What do we do with those?" I ask.
"We drink out of them. They're goblets."
"I know what they are," I counter. "I'm just not sure what they're for."
"Drinking the blood of virgins," he deadpans, and it takes me a few moments to catch on that he's joking.
"Now for the serious answer?" I prompt.
"I've heard rumours that spells like this are easier if there's some kind of bond between the people performing them. I thought that if we have a sacred drink and blessing before doing it, then it might help."
"That sounds kind of like a wedding," I mutter.
"I guess in some ways it is," Thomas admits.
Oops. He wasn't supposed to hear me say that.
"But one between souls, not one of love."
"I can't say you're reassuring me much." I pull out one of the swathes of red silk, letting the material fall to the floor. "Erm...is this a dress?"
"A toga," he corrects, setting down the goblets, and coming over to me. "That one's for you."
"I have to wear a red silk toga?" Now this really is starting to sound like some kind of virgin sacrifice.
"Yes. And we have black ones." He points to more silk in the boxes. "I don't know if actually does something to help, or if it just sets the tone..."
"Yes. The gothic nightmare tone." How have I let myself be talked into this? Surely my magic isn't more important than my morals? Or those of my friends.
