Page 236 of The Blairville Legacies

“Now that I know about your old life here in Blairville, that you're a witch and that there are werewolves, I don't thinkanythingcan surprise me anymore,” I tried in a different way.

The expression on her face instantly told me that this wasn't true, that there was much more to it than that.

The more I knew about her, the more I knew that I didn't actually knowanything. And that felt like I was standing on a wobbly bridge with no railings.

“I'll lose my memories in a few weeks anyway.”

One last attempt.

She looked at me with pity.

“Even if I don't believe it, Bayla. I hope it with all my heart.” She sounded remorseful, sad. “I want nothing more for you than a normal life, away from this society, away from all these circumstances here in Blairville.”

She looked down.

“Mum, if you want it so much, why did you move back here with me in the first place?”

“I had to, Bayla. The Circle doesn't give us a choice. I am a registered Quatura, and we aren’t allowed to live alone for too long.”

She looked at the ground, away from me. Her gaze lingered on the blue leather book with the gold engraving on the coffee table.

“Where did you get that?”

Suddenly, she didn't look so embarrassed, but tense.

“One of your old friends gave it to me,” I joked, trying to lighten the mood a little. The exact opposite happened.

“Bayla...” She sat up straight, ready to take the book.

I quickly grabbed the copy and slipped it into the large belly pocket of my dark pine green Vanderwood hoodie.

Mum's eyes widened.

“Whogave you this book?”

“My English professor,” I admitted meekly, without mentioning his name.

“What's your English professor's name?” she asked me tensely as if she had forgotten the letter from a few weeks ago in which he had already appeared once.

I was silent for a little too long. “Um...” And I hated that I was so bad at lying. “Professor Copeland?”

Mum's face filled with horror.

With my hands up, I jumped up and stepped back.

“I know you want me to stay away from the Copelands. But the professor is actually quite nice, and we had a conversation about books... And he said he knew you...”

My attempt to talk my way out of it had failed. I had only made it worse.

“Give me the book!” she said, demanding as if the professor had given meforbidden literature.

“No, Mum, it's a special copy, and the professor wants it back, and besides...”

“No,not besides. If he wants it back, he shouldn't have given it to you.”

She stood up and came toward me.

“Mum!” I gasped, overwhelmed by her sudden change of mood.

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