Page 143 of Spark of Sorcery
“I told her it was really truly awful,” Fly says sarcastically, “that a true friend would have spent the night lighting candles and holding a vigil.”
“Stop picking on Clare,” I tell him, “or I won’t let you eat any more of my chocolates.”
“Clare,” he says, fluttering his eyelashes, “I’m truly sorry.”
“But maybe it was a bit insensitive of me.”
“Nope, that makes me really happy to know things are happening between you.”
“How muchexactlyis happening between you?” Fly asks, waggling his eyebrows.
“Just a bit of kissing so far. Although he did slide his hand up into my shirt.”
“Erotic,” Fly mumbles.
“Ignore him,” I tell Clare. “He doesn’t own a pair of tits so he has no idea how good that feels.”
“It did feel good,” she says, nibbling her lip. “We’re going to spend Sunday hanging out together … if the two of you don’t mind.”
“Briony’s been ditching us regularly for the last few weeks. Of course she doesn’t.”
“Of course I don’t.” I hold the box of chocolates out to Clare and she takes another.
“I do have another piece of news that may make up for my poor behavior.”
“Ooo,” I say, rolling up and selecting another chocolate for myself. “What is it? Has Fly been sucking people’s faces off too?”
“I wish!”
“Nope, it’s about your sister. I think I found something of interest in the second yearbook. Have you asked the Princes about those names yet?”
I shake my head, then place the chocolate into my mouth and chomp through it with my teeth. “What did you find out?”
“It seems it wasn’t Professor Tudor teaching the fundamentals of shadow weaving back then.”
“Yeah, he said he wasn’t here when she was. He must have joined the teaching staff afterwards.” I wonder what that means – when did he become a vampire? Was it at the academy? Or afterwards?
I’m half tempted to return to the library and find his yearbooks just so I can discover every little piece of information about him too.
But Fox Tudor isn’t what I should be focusing on right now – even if my head is still spinning with that revelation.
“Exactly. It was a teacher called Professor Turmeric.And I think something must have happened in one of the lessons your sister had with him.”
“What?” I ask, sitting up a little straighter. “What happened?”
“Ahhh,” Clare says, “that’s the thing. The information has been scrubbed out of the book.”
“Scrubbed out how exactly?” Fly says.
Clare scrambles across the floor on her knees, then pulls the book from under her bed and flips to the right page. She turns the book around so I can read, and Fly peers over my shoulder.
12th March – Turmeric lesson. Students were instructed to search for shadow weaving magic in their veins. They were encouraged to let any such magic flow through to their fingertips. The existing identified shadow weavers performed this easily. The commoners were unsuccessful …
Several sentences follow but they have been scrubbed out by dark black ink.
“I’ve tried the usual tricks – holding the paper up to the light, making an impression of the page. I can’t work out what’s written underneath. But … maybe someone with magic could.”
“I don’t understand. These books hadn’t been read for years – it was clear no one had been in that section of the library for years.”
