AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I recalled again the town gossip that Nicky had relayed to me about Professor Volkov and his associates. They never went out before dark, there were lights on at their house at all hours…Could they be vampires?
The sound of wings overhead cut short my reasoning—and the next beat of my heart. I looked behind me and saw, silhouetted against the last red streak in the western sky, a black, winged shape bearing down on me.
I turned and ran down the steep path. The sound of wings grew louder and I ran faster. At the bottom of the path was a security light above a red campus emergency phone. I wasn’t sure how much good a phone call was going to do me right now, but it was the only goal I had. I made for the light as if it could banish the shadowy thing behind me—a thing that I instinctively felt wasn’t just a bird. Stories about vampires turning into bats were running through my mind as I reached for the phone…and felt my feet slipping in the slick, freshly fallen snow. As I fell the spellbook slipped from my hands and landed open and faceup in the snow inches from my nose.
To halt an attack from above, I read,pronounce the following words while picturing an empty blue sky and waving a feather.
Great, I thought, as the sound of wings came closer, where was I going to find a feather on such short notice? But Iwaswearing a down coat, an old one that sometimes leaked…
I patted my coat until I felt something prickly…and pulled. I waved the tiny feather in my hand while picturing an empty blue sky and pronouncing (correctly I hoped) the three prescribed words:
“Vacuefaca naddel nem!”
Something thumped my back. So much for having magical talents. I turned over, raising my hands to cover my face for protection…and found myself looking up at Liam Doyle.
“Are you all right?” he demanded, his voice hoarse with concern. “I saw you running down the path as if something were after you.”
I looked up for the winged creature, but there was nothing but clear blue sky. Snowflakes clung to Liam’s dark hair likestars in a night sky, but the sky itself was rinsed clean of the storm clouds that had been there a moment ago.
“I heard something following me.” I didn’t tell him that the sound had come from the sky. He helped me up and we both turned and looked at the path leading up to Bates Hall. Only one set of footprints stood out in the newly fallen snow. “I suppose it could have been my imagination,” I said, feeling foolish.
“Or it could have been someone in the woods,” Liam said. “A student smoking pot or drinking beer who didn’t want to get caught by a teacher.” I had a feeling he was humoring me, but I didn’t care. I also didn’t care that he was still holding my arm. I was glad to see him.
“I suppose so, or it could have been an animal.” As we turned to walk toward the main part of campus, he tucked my arm under his elbow. “I hadn’t realized how isolated this part of campus was. What are you doing here?”
“I was heading to Bates Hall to talk to Professor Demisovski about an independent project for Flonia Rugova. Flonia is writing some lovely poetry in Albanian and I thought if she could read some of the poetry of her homeland it would help her find her voice. I hear that Rea Demisovski is one of the world’s leading experts in Slavic poetry.”
“You’re certainly very dedicated to your students,” I said.
He glanced at me, his lips quirking up in a sideways smile. “I can’t tell if you’re making fun of me.”
I sighed. “I don’t blame you after hearing me mocking your poetry. I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I don’t know what came over me. Ilikethat poem. Especially the last two lines:And summer once more will make winter liar, but I won’t warm. You’re all I’ll ever desire.”
He stopped—we had reached the center of the quad where four Japanese maples marked the corners of two diagonally intersecting paths. Their bare branches arched above us, shieldingus from the snow. Liam took his glasses off to wipe the snow from the lenses and shook his head, scattering snowflakes from his hair.
“You memorized lines of my poem. I’m flattered. Unless you memorized them to make fun of them with Frank Delmarco.”
“No!” I said, touching his arm. He looked up, surprised at the urgency in my voice, and our eyes met for the first time without the barrier of his glasses. They were dark, but there was a light in them, a white spark that gleamed like one of the snowflakes once again spinning out of the night sky. Looking into them made me feel a little dizzy. “I memorized those lines because when I read them for the first time I had to read them again immediately…and then again and again. I couldn’t help but learn them by heart.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment. I supposed he was wondering if he could trust me. I wouldn’t have blamed him them he decided I was making fun of him again and walked away in disgust.
“By heart?” he asked, placing his hand over his own heart. “I like that phrase. I suppose that makes more sense than memorizing poetry to make fun of it. Thank you.” He reached his hand toward my face and moved a step closer. For a moment I thought he was going to kiss me—I might have leaned a quarter inch closer—but he only brushed some snow from my hair. I shivered as his hand touched my face.
“Come on, you’d better get home before you turn into one of those ice maidens in Nicky Ballard’s poems.”
We turned and walked briskly to the southeast gate, our arms no longer linked. “I’ve only read a few of them,” I said, desperate to cover my embarrassment at leaning into an imaginary kiss. Had he noticed? “They’re quite good, aren’t they?”
“They’re brilliant! She’s invented a whole mythology of these frozen women who live inside the walls of an ice palace. In order for the intrepid heroine to free herself she has to listen to the story of each one of the ice wardens. Telling their storiesmakes them thaw, but each story forms an ice crystal in the heroine’s heart. The question is whether she can free herself before her heart freezes.”
“Brrr.” I wrapped my arms around myself and shivered. “It makes me cold just thinking about it. Poor Nicky. She shouldn’t have to deal with this at her age.”
“Deal with what?” Liam asked as we passed through the southeast gate.
Too late I realized I couldn’t tell him about the curse. I could, however, tell him about Nicky’s family. We stopped in the middle of the road—equidistant between my house and the inn. Glancing behind him at the gaily decorated Hart Brake Inn—Diana had gone all out with colored lights, swags of holly and pine, and an entire team of illuminated reindeer—I felt a pang that I’d condemned him to spending Christmas in Toyland.
“It’s a long story. Would you like to come in for a drink?” I asked, trying to make my voice sound casual. “Perhaps something not cocoa- or nog-based?”
He laughed. “Yes, I’d like that very much.” And then, leaning close enough that I could feel his warm breath tickling my frozen earlobe, he whispered conspiratorially, “But you have to promise not to serve any cookies or brownies with it. I’m beginning to feel like Hansel being fattened for the oven by the Wicked Witch.”
I laughingly promised not to serve any baked goods and then assured him that Diana, at least, was not a witch. I didn’t tell him that after my first successful spell I was wondering whether I was.
