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"That was close. But let's not do it again," I suggest.
"Oh, definitely not," he responds.
"I guess it probably means we can't use the library for the ceremony." I'm disappointed, mostly because I can't think of anywhere other than this where we could.
"We have no other choice. But I think it means we have to do it tonight. They'll stay away for a little bit, but you know Feathertop will be back."
I bite my lip. I don't like it, but I can see his point. "Alright."
My phone chimes, stopping me from saying anything else. It's a good job it didn't go off while the two women were here.
A sigh of relief escapes me and I turn the screen so Thomas can read too. The books are safe. Daphne has them. Now all I need to do is break it to her that we're doing black magic tonight.
Perhaps I should start a text chain. It may make things easier for keeping everyone up to date.
Chapter Twelve
"Sage? Really?" Daphne raises her eyebrows, clearly not impressed by the weird shampoo concoction I have in my hair.
"Yes. It says I have to wrap my hair in it for ten minutes before washing it out." Just one of the many strange things I have to do before we try and perform black magic. I'd have thought it would be simple given that it's banned.
Apparently not. That only makes things more complicated.
"It stinks."
"You're not wrong." Part of me wants to say screw it all and wash it out of my hair already, but the rest of me knows I need to do this right.
"Is there anything I need to do?" She picks up the list from my desk that Thomas made for me and studies it. Rhubarb watches her intently from the spot he's chosen as his own today. One that's worryingly close to an open ink well.
"I don't think so. You'll have to wear a silk toga once we're in the library though." Not that I've come to terms with that bit myself. I'm going to feel very exposed. The only saving grace is that everyone else will be wearing one too.
"Oh good. I've always wanted to look ridiculous while breaking the law," she mutters.
Rhubarb meows, and looks straight at me, before lowering his paw.
"No!" I shout, but it's too late, and his tiny fluffy paw dunks into the pot of ink.
Daphne laughs heartily as he screws up his face in disgust.
"I did tell you," I scold him.
Rhubarb flicks his ear and starts to walk inky pawprints across the papers littering my desk.
"Oh no, you don't." I lift him up and half-run into my bathroom, dumping him in the sink. "You know, I don't have time for this right now," I tell him.
I turn the tap on, making sure I don't make it too hot for him to cope with. The last thing I want is a burned kitten. Squirting soap into my hand, I rub it over his paw, watching the water run with the ink. It's a good job it isn't red, or someone might think I committed murder.
That certainly isn't the illegal activity I have planned for tonight.
He looks up at me with the most heartbreaking face imaginable.
"Please don't be like that. You're the one that got yourself messy in the first place," I remind him.
Water splashes up when he throws down his paw in frustration.
"Mona, your alarm is going off," Daphne calls from the other room.
Right. I need to deal with the disgusting sage goop in my hair. I grab one of th
