Within These Wicked Walls(33)

“Music? No. Jember taught me hymns orally.”

“Then I’ll nod when I’m ready, shall I?”

I nodded in response, leaning forward in preparation.

And he began.

This one was like oil pouring on the floor—slow, flowing, but somehow unpredictably messy. Not his playing, but the melody. The meaning of it. Like a romance in the midst of turmoil.

“I’m in the way,” I said, as his warm arm brushed past me for a high note.

“You’re never in the way,” Magnus said, and somehow it felt like more than the truth.

He nodded and my heart skittered, as stupid as that seemed, not resuming a steadier pace until I’d successfully turned the page and listened to him continue without a hitch.

“Is page turning always this stressful?”

Magnus laughed, missing a few notes. He was getting better at laughing, I think. It sounded more natural. “Why do you think I get someone else to do it?”

“Evil Eye Manifestations are much easier.”

“For you, definitely. You’ve done the most cleansing out of any of the other debtera.”

I started to turn the page, but Magnus made a tut-ing sound at me, like shooing a cat off the table. “You nodded!” I said.

“The other way, it’s a repeat.”

“What’s a repeat?”

“Back to the beginning!”

My arm shot to the other page to turn it, but I yanked too fast and the book toppled off onto the keys. Magnus jerked his hands out of the way and laughed. Not in malice or sarcasm, but an adorably genuine one, like a little boy hearing the greatest joke ever. And it was catching, his laughter igniting mine.

I think … I could’ve survived on that laugh alone, if surviving in this world didn’t require money.

I shoved him in the arm. “I told you I don’t read music.”

He wrapped his arm around my shoulders, hugging me, and I felt my breath catch before forcing myself to breathe normally. “You did wonderfully for your first try,” he said, still grinning from his laughter, and picked up the music book from the floor. His arm had to leave me to do it, and I missed it as soon as it left. He paused in getting up, looking beyond me.

I turned to see blood leaking down the walls from the ceiling. It was much easier to construct an amulet when the Manifestation was currently taking place. I had to cleanse it before it went away.

“It doesn’t hurt anyone,” Magnus said as I stood. “Stay.”

Magnus’s words made me pause. I looked down at him still sitting on the bench, and he had that hopeful look, same as the night he’d given me those chocolates. That look unnerved me like no other look ever had. It didn’t want anything other than human interaction, eye contact, some sort of friendly affection. I was the only one who could give that to him, and part of me felt selfish for denying him something I took for granted every day. But cleansing this house was the only way to save him, so he’d never have to rely on one person so fully again.

Then again, another part of me felt selfish for a different reason … for not wanting to save him. For wanting to keep that beautiful, hopeful look to myself.

A sound of disgust for myself slipped out, and I watched his face drop, and all of me wanted to erase the last few seconds and start over without that impulsive sound.

“Magnus,” I tried, “I—”

“You’re right.” He stood quickly, but he wasn’t looking at me anymore, and something about losing that contact with him made my throat tight. “Cleansing the Evil Eye takes priority. I’ll leave you to your work.”

And he left. Just like that. Didn’t hesitate, didn’t look at me. And my tight throat wouldn’t allow me to call his name.





CHAPTER 14


Magnus had holed himself up in his room for the rest of the day, so the next morning I dressed and went straight to where I knew he would be—the library. The curtains on the tall windows were drawn, with so little light seeping under that if I lived in this room I would’ve thought it was still night. Magnus didn’t look to be here, but a used plate sat on the small table and enough candles were lit to be dangerous in a roomful of books, so he couldn’t be far.

A book flew from the shelf and slapped open onto Magnus’s chair. I touched my knife on instinct. “Magnus?” No answer. I suddenly felt silly. Books jumping off shelves was normal in a cursed house … I assumed.

It had to be the work of the bloody woman, from the drawing Magnus had been working on my first day here. The Librarian, he had called her. Didn’t she leave him messages through books?

I went to the chair and picked up the open book and the stack of books beneath, sitting and placing them on my lap. The top book was open to a passage circled in dark ink—no, not ink, I realized, as I smoothed the page and it smudged on my fingers, showing red in the firelight. It was as if the Librarian had touched her bloody lips and drawn with her finger.

Don’t provoke me—wretched, headstrong girl! Or in my immortal rage I may just toss you over …



It had to be a message for me. A threat, just like the night of that first dinner. But, just like the last one, it seemed to be nothing but words—a threat that would never be carried out. I shut the book and put it on the small table beside me, the bright white words The Iliad staring at me from the black cover.