Page 57 of Strength of Desire

“In any case, in all the confusion, I think I said I was in my rooms during the attack, when I was, in fact, a bit farther away. It hardly matters. But I was passing near the gym when the attack occurred, and I was using a heat spell as I walked. It was rather cold that day, you know.”

“You didn’t think the walk would warm you up on its own?” I asked. Was he such a delicate flower that he couldn’t handle a healthy trek across the grounds without babying himself with an additional warming spell?

“It shouldn’t have mattered,” he sputtered. “How was I to know that a group of moraghin were to breach our wards? But if someone had sent the moraghin after me, and the alignment of their breaching spell went awry, they could have ended up in the gym by accident and gotten sidetracked by your students.”

“Why would someone be after you?”

I could think of plenty of reasons, with that coin in his drawer, but I didn’t think Sheridan would cop to any of that.

“I—I—I don’t know!” he spluttered, dry-washing his hands even more intensely. “Perhaps the moraghin weren’t sent after anyone in particular, but once they were on the grounds, they were attracted by the spell I was doing as I walked past the gym. You have to admit, that makes more sense than those monsters intentionally targeting you or your students. You’re not even a witch, and freshmen are hardly powerful enough to tempt moraghin.”

Was that actually plausible? I wondered. Maybe Sheridan just had a guilty conscience.

“Could be,” I said slowly. “Have you told Isaac about this?”

Sheridan definitely looked guilty now. “I was hoping I was wrong. That it wouldn’t be necessary.”

I felt sick. I had no sympathy for him at all, but this still seemed like information Isaac should have. I said as much, and Sheridan looked like he might vomit.

“Are you going to tell him?” he asked, nodding at the bolt in my hand. “When you talk to him about what happened tonight?”

“Not if you promise to tell him as soon as possible.” A complete lie, but not one I had trouble telling. I needed to talk to Isacnow. “Good night, Sheridan.”

15

NOAH

Iheaded straight for the ballroom, knowing Isaac was more likely to be there than in his study. He didn’t celebrate Imbolc himself, but he would make an appearance to show his support. He’d probably want to keep an eye on things too. I’d heard they’d found a way to build the bonfire inside, and I doubted Isaac wanted that to happen unsupervised.

The sounds of the party spilled out into the hallway as I neared the ballroom—voices talking and laughing, the occasional shriek of joy. Delicious smells drifted out as well, roasted meat, fresh-baked bread, and savory herbs perfuming the air. And below all that, the scent of woodsmoke.

I stopped just inside the ballroom, taking in the scene. The sconces along the walls had all been lit, tall white candles casting their golden light upon the frescoes and tapestries. Despite the fact that Imbolc was supposed to represent the return of spring, someone had hung garlands of evergreen boughs beneath each high window, as though it were Yule instead.

Two students were playing a Celtic harp and fiddle in the corner closest to me, and a group of students and professors danced a swirling, spiral dance in front of them on the parquet floors. I could hardly hear the music over the din of the crowd.

Long trestle tables had been lined up end to end on the left side of the room, piled high with a feast that showed no signs of slowing down. Students and professors rubbed elbows together under the light of the candelabras in the center of each table. People chattered and laughed over china plates of food and drink in crystal goblets.

On either side of each candelabra stood dolls made of straw. Conical bases represented dresses, with bent and bound strands folded and braided to make the head and arms. The kind of thing that would have looked creepy, tucked away in an old basement, but seemed charming in this context.

And in the center of the room burned a giant bonfire, lighting up the space with its ruddy glow. I walked towards it, groups of students surging and parting in front of me. There were real logs at the base of it, surrounded by a circle of salt with symbols I couldn’t interpret drawn into it. A foot beyond that lay a second circle, this one of stones and cut flowers

Sparks popped from the logs and flew up and out, but any that reached as far as the salt circle disappeared in mid air. The ones that traveled up followed the smoke billowing from the flames, twining together as they sought…I squinted. Were those stars up there?

Dangling from the roof, a circle of Brigid’s crosses hemmed in the smoke and sparks, channeling them into an ever smaller stream that exited the ballroom through a hole in the ceiling. Which made no sense. The ballroom ceiling was tall enough that it reached the bottom of the third floor, but there were still two more floors before you reached the roof, three if you counted the attics. So how the hell could the smoke be disappearing into the night sky?

I shook my head in amazement. Beyond my pay grade.

I glimpsed Cory to my right, standing in a circle with his friends. Ash seemed to be telling some story that had everyone laughing—everyone but Cory, that was. He seemed to sense my gaze, because as I looked at him, his eyes met mine, and I felt another jolt of electricity shoot through me.

His eyes widened. I watched him take a deep breath. Saw his lips part, like he was about to speak—but he said nothing.

Was he still thinking about that night on the roof, like I was? The memory of his body in my arms, warm and shaking, haunted me. The fear I’d felt, when I’d seen him sliding down the roof, still gripped my heart. I’d been terrified at the thought of losing him. I still was.

I hadn’t waited a second before jumping after him, and the relief I’d felt when I’d held him against me, safe and sound, was stronger even than the desire that always coursed through my veins when he was near.

I could still see the fear in his eyes as we’d inched our way along the roof to the ladder. He’d been on the edge of panic, the whites of his eyes wide and round as we’d shuffled along, the snow making the roof tiles slick under our hands. But he’d trusted me.

‘You could have let me fall.’

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