Darkness Watching (Darkworld #1) (21 page)

The last thing I saw was Leo’s concerned face, peering down at me, before everything faded away.

he world swam in and out of focus. I could hear a flurry of movement around me, and realised I was lying down on a hard surface. A bench. Wooden slats poked me in the back.

“What happened?” said a low, urgent voice. It sounded familiar; then I placed it: the fortune-teller.

“Harpies attacked us in the library,” said Howard.

“You were in the library again?”

“We were trying to find out about Ash’s ancestry.”

I heard a sharp intake of breath. Cold hands traced the burning wounds on my arms, and I moaned, though the pain lessened rapidly.

“Hang on, Ash!” said Leo. “You’ll be okay. They got me, too, couple of weeks back.”

“That’s because you punched one of them!” said Claudia. “Ash didn’t do anything to provoke them. Have you any idea why they might have targeted her?”

“No,” said the fortune-teller, quietly.

In spite of myself, I raised my head, dizzily, and said to Leo, “You
punched
one of them?”

“He was drunk,” said Claudia, and, from her tone, I imagined her shaking her head. “First night of Freshers’ week, and he has to attack a harpy. Ash, are you OK?”

I sat up. The pain was almost gone now, and ,for the first time I could see my surroundings. I was in the fortune-teller’s tent, and, above me, a cluster of starry charms glittered in the light of a hundred scented candles. Their mingling aromas didn’t quite mask the smell of something bitter and sharp, which seemed to be coming from somewhere nearby. I looked down at my arms and registered with shock that the cuts had completely healed, leaving only twin faint pinkish scars that ran the length of each arm, from wrist to elbow.

The fortune-teller surveyed me with a look of satisfaction from between her white curtains of hair. “That should suffice. The scarring’s a little more than I expected, but the Venantium will have no reason to suspect it was one of their harpies that attacked you. Can you stand?”

I nodded, and slid off the bench I’d been lying on; evidently, someone had dragged it in from outside. I could see my own blood splattered over the wooden panels and could hardly believe it. I felt totally normal, almost energised, even, as though the attack had never happened.

“Why won’t the Venantium know?” I asked. “If they see these scars―I mean, they’re pretty noticeable. I’ve no idea what I’m going to tell everyone I did.”

“Even if they recognised it for a harpy’s mark, the Venantium control only a select number of them. Do you know much about harpies?”

“Only that I wouldn’t want one as a pet.”

Leo laughed. Even the fortune-teller looked mildly amused.

“They’re trained to mark intruders, so they aim to wound, not kill,” she explained. “But, as with any Darkworld creatures, any sorcerer is at liberty to summon and control one. The Venantium control the harpies around here.”

“So why did they pick on me?”

“Because you’re the newbie?” Berenice still hovered around, pacing by the door, like she was desperate to leave.

“Brilliant,” I said, irritably. Tiredness washed over me without warning, my sudden energy depleting. I swayed, unsteady from losing so much blood.

The fortune-teller said, “I’ll put a cover-spell on you so you’ll be invisible to the Venantium for a few hours. That should be enough to get you safely home.”

She looked at me. “Be careful, Ashlyn. Someone is after you. That much is clear.”

And, on that note of confidence, we were dismissed.

An hour later, as I walked up the hill to the student village with Claudia, she pulled me away from contemplating the fortune-teller’s words by muttering, “Maybe it wasn’t a coincidence.”

“Huh?” I said.

“Maybe someone took that book out on purpose.”

“What, you think someone knew we were after it? How would they know?”

“I don’t know; it just seems strange. Cyrus and Howard have been breaking into that place for over a year, and it’s always been there. I had the impression even members of the Venantium itself didn’t dare consult it except in the case of an emergency.”

“What exactly
is
the book?”

“It’s like a giant family tree, detailing the interrelations of every magic-user in existence. Without exception, all sorcerers are connected in some way, distantly. It has the details of the original Venantium members, who, odds are, are in your ancestry somewhere. They’re in mine, and Cyrus’s, and Howard’s―everyone’s.”

“But why’s it dangerous?”

“Because it’s laced with all the protective spells the original
venators
could place on it. Anyone who isn’t a sorcerer―well, they’d be burnt alive if they so much as touched it. It’s an old curse, and no one’s been able to remove it.”

“That’s horrible,” I said, with a shudder.

“Well, it’s always under lock and key, anyway… Ash, why’s your light on?”

We’d reached the right building, and I saw with a sinking heart that, once again, my window had been thrown open, and my light blazed onto the field in the misty night.

“I didn’t leave it on,” I said. “I never forget to turn it off. I’m totally OCD about that. Someone’s been in my room again.”

Claudia followed me up to the window. The black marks were still there, and fresh ones overlaid the ones from before.

“Looks like tar,” Claudia commented. “Or―or oil or something. Whose is the motorbike?”

My heart sank. “My flatmate, David’s,” I said, reluctantly.

“Is he the weirdo?”

“No, that’s Terrence.”

“Which is
his
room?”

“Round the other side, I think.”

I cast a fleeting glance at David’s window as we passed it, but the curtains were tightly closed. So were Terrence’s, though Claudia tried her best to peek through the slight gap at the top.

“There’s a weird glow in there. I think he has a TV on.”

“Or he’s conducting evil experiments.”

Claudia looked at me. “You think that?”

“Eh? I’ve no idea. It’s just this joke my flatmates and I have, because he went out the other night saying he was going to the ‘lab.’”

“Hmm. Does he have anything against you?”

“Me? No, he’s rude to everyone. But he lives in the same flat as I do. He wouldn’t have a reason to break in from the outside.”

My room was, as before, just as I’d left it. Apart from the light and the window, nothing was amiss at all. I felt utterly baffled.

“Is there a spell I can put on my room to stop people breaking in?” I said, as I examined every item on my desk to see if anything was out of place.

“That’s what I was about to suggest,” said Claudia, who seemed interested in my painting collection. “Okay… you need to envision an invisible barrier, surrounding the whole room. It’s the kind of magic that needs more than one person to do it right. I’ll stand over here”―she moved over to the window―”and you stand by the door. Now, when I say, contact the Darkworld, and I’ll guide you from there. Got it?”

I nodded.

“Good. Let’s go. Now.”

As I made contact with the Darkworld, I gasped as my arms flared with white-hot pain again and a voice―if the sound could be called a voice―shrieked something unintelligible.

A second later, the pain vanished.

“What―?”

“What’s wrong, Ash?”

“N-nothing.”
That was weird.
“Let me try again.”

This time nothing stopped me. I reached out to the Darkworld, and it sent me a shadowy cloak to drape around the room, extending to just outside the window. I could see it only if I concentrated hard, but its presence already reassured me.

“No one can break in using magic now. It won’t stop someone picking the lock, but these flats are designed so you can’t do that anyway.”

“That’s good enough for me,” I said, though something still didn’t feel right.
What was that scream?

“Anyway, I’m shattered, and I have a seminar at nine tomorrow morning. See you at next week’s meeting?”

“Um, sure,” I said. “‘Night.”

I couldn’t get to sleep, partly because my nerves still buzzed, and partly because I kept thinking I heard footsteps outside my door. Several times I actually got out of bed and went to peer through the spy-hole in my door, but I couldn’t see anyone in the corridor. Finally, I gave up on sleep and pulled back the curtains, letting the weak dawn light flood the room.

And nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw David, standing about a metre away from my window. He wore an expression of utter fury.

“David!” I said, pushing open the window.

“Oh, hey, Ash!” He forced his face into an unconvincing smile. “You’re awake early.”

“Speak for yourself! What on earth are you doing out there?”

“Someone’s tampered with my bike again. It’s worse this time―they’ve trashed it.”

Even from here, I could see the bike was no longer the gleaming model it had been a couple of weeks ago. Both of the tyres were punctured, and mud coated the handlebars.

“Who would do that?”

“God knows.” David still looked livid. “I’m seriously considering just leaving it at home in future.”

“Maybe someone got drunk and decided to take it for a ride?”

“It was padlocked, but someone’s totally mangled the locks. I wouldn’t say anyone who was wasted would be capable of it. These locks are practically impossible to get off.”