Page 4 of Dead and Gone

Rowan's mouth parts as he catches my smile. "No, Violet. Don't cause trouble."

Ignoring him, I turn back to the man. "You've an iconic and exciting exhibit you wish to show us."

His brow knits. "I do?"

"Yes. In the middle of the museum." I point. "Through that door."

Words form on his lips but fail to leave his mouth.

"Violet," urges Rowan. "Stop using magic on a human's mind. That's illegal."

"No. Let her. I'm not wasting my money," says Holly. "I didn't want to come here, remember?"

In surprise, I break from my burgeoning mind control to side-glance my strait-laced human friend. She'sencouragingillegal magic rather than preparing to lecture me?

The bell behind tinkles again, and my friends edge from the door. An elderly couple stares at us as if we're apparitions. The man dresses similarly to the curator, although he prefers beige elbow patches and shoes of a matching color. His snowy white hair is clipped short, and the woman in the floral dress wears her gray hair in a long, loose braid.

"You're early," says the curator, shaking back his jacket sleeve to examine his wristwatch before gesturing at the poster on the wall. "The meeting doesn't start for half an hour."

Little Wittering Historical Society

Monthly Meeting

June 6th

4PM

"Mabel can make the tea," says the man with a smile. "I do hope you bought more of thosedeliciousbiscuits."

The new man studies us with curiosity rather than disdain. Do all humans in this age group smell weird? A pungent mix of leathery and soapy scents smother the couple, along with a mustiness to match their surroundings.

"Who are these young people?" asks the man.

"The answer is obvious, unless the museum never has patrons, in which case, we're a random group of teens who decided to attend the meeting," I say, pissed these individuals ruined my mind magic by snapping away the curator's attention.

"Areyou here for the meeting?" Mabel asks.

"Um. No," says Grayson, staring as if she's insane.

"Shame. Young blood might encourage a new love of history amongst their peers, don't you think, Reginald?" Mabel says solemnly to her companion.

Holly laughs. "You'd fit in Violet. They talk like you do."

I ignore them all and catch the curator's eye again. "Thank you for your information. We'll be sure to look at that exhibit you mentioned. We'd best visit now—if you have a meeting with your friends, the museum must be closing soon. I couldn't bear to miss out."

"What?" He blinks and then looks at his weird-smelling companions. "Oh. Right. Meeting."

Nodding at the curator, I stride purposefully towards the doors. Holly pokes Leif, who is intently studying the ceilingand yawning, before they follow Rowan and me, with Grayson trailing behind.

"Five pounds,” Leif mutters as the door swings closed behind us. "That's crazy."

"I guess I didpayfor this," I say to Holly smugly.

"With illegal magic," whispers Rowan.

I slant my head, ready to make a pointed comment about the use of illegal magic he performed over the years. Yet Rowan's concern is valid. If the curator realizes I used magic on him, he'll report me to authorities.

But the curator's mindwasrather weak, like cracking the spine of an old book, and once I'd waded through the prejudice, I easily manipulated the man's thoughts.

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