Page 15 of Sore Throat, Slight Fever

However, there was one aspect of being a witch that she excelled at: drawing. She could draw a perfect circle in salt on the floor. Her line work on her symbols was impeccable. Her visual memory was flawless, and appears to still be, because she recognizes the symbols now that she’s seeing them in the light with well-rested eyes.

The spell construction is simple, but heavy-handed. Two tiers of supportive symbols—a pattern of two different lesser symbols repeating—linked with a master binding mark,rata. They’ve been carved deeplyinto the iron, the edges rough and pockmarked. She brings them closer to her face and sniffs, noting the unmistakable remnant of ox bile, vinegar, and the light lily-like scent of Soloman’s Seal. The chain that links them is ordinary, just metal against metal; the strength of the cuffs themselves is enough to contain whomever (or whatever) wears them.

And yet there’s nothing in them that prevents her from walking away.

She could just leave. The housefeelsempty, the air undisturbed and heavy. What’s stopping her from walking down the stairs and out the front door? She could leave the taciturn, burly vampire and his bird friend, and make her own way. She’s sure Rory has a car. She could steal it and hit the road, just like she planned to do before she was shot. Just her, on her own, finally living however she wants—

A low growl echoes in her head as her Hunger sits up, teeth bared.Oh, right. Sorry, Hun.Drink first, plan later.

There are four doors off the hallway, including her own, two on each side. At one end of the hallway, she sees the stairs leading down to the kitchen and a small living room. The opposite end of the hallway is adorned with a large landscape painting in an ornate frame that reaches nearly floor to ceiling. She frowns at it. The ratio is all wrong for a landscape. Too narrow. The trees look like they are trying to break out of the frame. Of the four doors in the hallways, only twoare open: the one in which she is standing and the one directly across from her, which is half-open allowing a cone of warm light to pour across the floor. She glances between the door and the stairs to her left.

Hun’s tail thwacks back and forth.Drink first, then leave.

She steps forward intent upon the stairs, her pointy black boots sinking into the plush rug that runs down the middle of the hallway. The house creaks and for a second, the floor shifts, a slight change that happens so suddenly, she isn’t quite sure what’s happened. She blinks, finding herself much closer to the half-open door in front of her than she should be. She takes a sideways step in the direction of the stairs, but the floor…slides…and she hasn’t moved.

But really what did she expect from a house that created a new room just for her? She relents, shouldering her way into the room, only to let out a tiny gasp a second later as she is faced with the full expanse of the library in front of her. The library of Graeme House spans the entire width of the upper level and yet, seems to extend beyond even that at times. The wall-to-ceiling shelves are the same style as the ones in her own room, but packed to the brim with books, spines gleaming in the low light of the room, some whispering promises and requests to be read even as she walks by, fingers brushing lightly against the leather and cotton covers. Near the center of the room, the shelves curve inward around a spiral staircase that reaches upto a small mezzanine level.

Beyond the staircase, Calliope just glimpses a large round window which looks out onto the inky black sky. She almost hears her grandma’s voice in her head, admonishing her—lovingly—for sleeping the day away.Don’t be a lazy lout, Cal.Go out and get your bare feet against some soil.

She can’t remember the last time she went about barefoot, let alone dug her toes in the grass and soft dirt. Is it true that vampires can’t go out in the sun? She hopes not. Rory didn’t seem worried about it earlier, as he stood in the kitchen with the morning light streaming in through the open window—but did he avoid direct sunlight? Did the sun touch his skin? Did the sun touch her skin when she opened the window? As she sat in the kitchen? She hadn’t really been paying attention.

In the center of the library, beside the spiral staircase is a cluster of reading tables, each with their own small lamp. Kane is standing on the table closest to the stairs, the lamp producing a puddle of light aimed at an open book. As she watches, he turns a page with his beak and then continues reading.

“Are you going to stand there all night?” he asks, without looking up. “The house is most obliging. I’m sure you could request whatever title may pique your interest.”

“Where’s Rory?” she asks, wandering over to the window. She looks down, noting the dirt drivewaythat leads to the house, the oak trees on either side standing sentry over the entrance. There’s a rectangle of scattered gravel where Calliope feels a car usually goes. It’s empty.

A flutter of wings, a shuffle of paper. “He’s at work.”

The Go-Go Gas.A rush of embarrassment steals through her as the memory of warm slick blood pooling around her comes back. The evidence is still on her clothes, and she can only imagine how much more ended up on the floor. She feels a strange compunction to apologize for what was surely an awful mess. She half laughs, wildly, at the realization that getting shot and bleeding out on a gas station floor has somehow become equivalent to having dinner at a friend’s house and not offering to clean the dishes.So rude.

She turns back to Kane. “Does he always work at night?”

“Except for Wednesday and Thursday. Those are his days off.”

“Does he ever work during the day?”

Kane looks up at her, head twisted to the side. “Ask what you really want to ask.”

“Can vampires go out in the sun?”

Kane seems disappointed with such a mundane question. His tail fans out as he returns his focus to the book in front of him. “Why would they ever need to?”

“I don’t know.” She lets her fingers trail against the spines of the books as she walks back to the center ofthe room. “To go to the post office. Dentist appointments. Grocery shopping?”

Kane’s squawk is as close to a laugh as a bird’s syrinx can produce. “You’re a funny one, Little Witch.”

“I thought I wasn’t a witch anymore.”

“That remains to be seen.” Kane looks up at her. “I’m supposed to get you to drink.”

“I’ll be okay a bit longer.”

He cocks his head to the side. “What did you do?”

She shrugs. “I asked her to sit and stay.” She turns her attention back to the shelves. “Anything you recommend?”

The question is meant for Kane, but the library seems content to answer for the bird, who has since returned his attention to his own reading. A book falls from the shelf in front of her, and she picks it up, fingers ghosting over the soft worn red leather cover as she reads the title out loud. “Carpe Noctum: An Account of the First and Second Blood Wars.” She looks up at Kane, who is surreptitiously watching her as she examines the book. “Vampire wars? Is this something I should learn? Because of…because I’m one of them now?”

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