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5
MIA
I think I’ve found something in one of the books.
It’s hard to tell when you have no background in spell casting and calligraphy—necessary skills when using letters from dead languages and symbols from grimoires. Thankfully this book isn’t a grimoire, as grimoires are just as obscure as demonblood magic is to me, but a sort of dictionary of symbols.
Only problem is, the symbols in Ophelia’s diary are not exactly the same.
And as for Jason’s scribbles, I’ve found no match at all.
Bleary-eyed, symbols still flashing in my vision, I gather my books and head to my first class of the day, skipping breakfast as I often do—mostly because I’m late and sometimes because I wake up too worried to feel any hunger.
Now I need someone to help me with this symbol search. If I had a family I could count on, if I could count on Ophelia… Unfortunately, she’s the person I’m trying to stop.
Do Mother and Father—my uncle and aunt—know what she’s doing? Would they help me if I told them or would they lock me up in the Church again and keep me away from the real world?
Vanessa it is.
An instinct has me turning back to the refectory—no, not an instinct, I realize, but the sense of the magical signature of a witch, a throb in the vast magical network that links us all, a movement in the web, a pull on the molecules that make up my body.
And there she is, walking out, talking with Melissa.
“You.” Melissa glares at me as I approach.
“I need to talk to Vanessa,” I say.
“What do you want now?” Vanessa says, turning toward me, a scowl on her face. “I thought we’d said all we had to say to each other.”
“I need your help.”
She snorts. “Let’s go,” she says to Melissa and takes her hand.
“Van, wait.” As they walk away, I blink back tears of frustration. “If you won’t train me, at least lend me a hand with this. Please. Take a look and tell me if these are the same symbols. They look similar enough but this one has a line below and this one has a circle on top and this one—”
“Why should I help you?” She glances back at me, a brief glare.
“For old times’ sake?” I try.
She laughs.
“What do you want in exchange?” I call out since appealing to her better nature doesn’t seem to be working.
This time she stops, shoos Melissa away with a few quiet words and walks back to me. “Who says you got anything I want?”
“Everyone wants something. And you’re still talking to me, which means there is something you want.”
She leans forward. “Fine. I want a lock of hair from each of the boys.”
I stare at her. “That’s seriously creepy, you realize that, right? Stalker creepy.”
“It’s up to you, Mia. You asked for my price.”
“I did. Ask for something else.”
“There’s nothing else I want.”
“Seriously?” If I manage to get the boys alone, as per my plan, then maybe it won’t be that hard… “And what will you do with those locks?”
