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I bit my lip.
“You don’t have to say,” Anya told me quickly.
“I was baking cookies with my brother,” I said, the memory rich in my mind again. “And then we were dancing.”
Anya’s brow furrowed.
Their memories all involved loss. And so did mine, they just didn’t know it.
“My brother was in a car accident,” I said. “He can’t walk anymore.”
“I’m so sorry,” Nina said.
“Part of the reason I want to stay at the school is to learn healing magic,” I admitted. “Maybe I could help him. Do you guys know anything about that kind of magic?”
“I don’t, but Nina’s already read half the books in the library,” Anya said, turning to her.
“Definitely not half,” Nina said. “That would take lifetimes. And no, I really don’t know anything about healing.”
“I don’t either,” Lark said. “That’s upper-level magic. But I’m sure someone at the school can point you in the right direction. If there’s ever been a book written about it, it has to be here.”
“This place is incredible,” I said.
The floor was clean again. No one would ever know there had been paw prints at all.
“I’ll put that away,” Lark said, grabbing the bucket and mop from me. “I have to grab the duster anyway.”
“Thanks,” I told her.
Nina and Anya were still picking up books and trying to put them away in proper order.
I decided to help them and grabbed a book myself. It was small and leather-bound with a drawing carved into the front cover.
Holding it seemed to make my hands tingle. I looked down at the cover and found the carving was of a raven. It appeared to be lifting itself from the ground, wings caught mid-flutter, claws akimbo in a swirl of what was probably meant to be wind.
It reminded me of the graffiti I’d seen in my cubby, and the painting on the fountain by the entrance. I hadn’t connected the two before, since the art style was so different. I assumed it was just random graffiti, like the tags I saw all over the place back in Philly. But after seeing the book, I was starting to wonder if there wasn’t more to it.
“What’s this one?” I asked, showing it to Nina.
“Oh, that one’s about the Raven King,” she said, taking it from me to re-shelf. “Do you know about him?”
“No,” I said. “Does it have anything to do with the raven someone painted on the fountain?”
“The Raven King was from the days of old magic,” Nina said. “They say he was more powerful than any of the human witches. His magic was from the original source. Some say hewasthe original source.”
“What do you mean the original source?” I asked.
“Well, it’s going to sound silly,” she warned me. “But the fae have original magic.”
“Fae like… fairies?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said. “We have to pay the price for our magic, but theirs was born to them. It’s in their blood.”
I stood there gaping at her and feeling stupid. How could I be shocked to learn that fairies were real? I was a witch, and I had just spent an evening with a man who was basically a werewolf.
“Are you okay, Bella?” Nina asked.
“Sure, it’s just… a lot,” I told her.
