Munroe led them through an open door into an enormous rectangular room with patterned gray wallpaper and stained-glass windows. From a player piano somewhere in the house, a waltz filtered through the air. An old rug covered the hardwood floor, embroidered with an image of a bonfire—swirling flames of orange and yellow thread. Orderly rows of high-backed chairs faced a chalkboard on wheels in front of an empty marble fireplace.
Munroe opened her hands. “This is the room where we’ll be having our classes. In the evenings, we’ll study in the drawing room. There are only nine of us, so we’ll all be following the same schedule. My parents have hired tutors. We start tomorrow morning at 7:30 with math.”
Math at 7:30. If any doubts lingered in Fiona’s mind about the sinister cult-like quality of Munroe’s family, this put them to rest.
“Follow me to the informal dining room.” Munroe turned on her heels and opened a door opposite the chalkboard.
Along with her classmates, Fiona shuffled into a red-walled room with a round table. High above, carvings in the ivory ceiling depicted angry animals and chalices wrapped in vines. From a painting on the wall, a mutton-chopped man glowered, his cheeks sagging.
“This is where we’ll eat breakfast and lunch. And that—” She pointed to the portrait. “—is Edgar. He was quite handsome in his time.” She cleared her throat. “They had different standards then. There’s one more important room.” She glanced at Tobias and grabbed his hand, leading him out into the hallway.
Fiona stifled a gagging noise. Why did she need to hold his hand? Was this a sign of some kind of complicity between Tobias and the cult?
The students followed their new leader across the hallway into a long, rectangular dining room that contained a banquet table large enough for twenty people.
A dull light glinted off golden wallpaper decorated with red and blue star-shaped flowers. A great gnarled and gilded chandelier hung over the white cloth and china on the table. Alan whistled as he looked around the room.
“This is the formal dining room, where we’ll eat dinner. Dinner is at six every night. You’re supposed to dress up.” She grimaced at Fiona’s tight-fitting cartoon princess T-shirt. “Well, I’ll be dressing up anyway. Any questions?”
Sadie flung a hand in the air. “What about the rest of the mansion?”
Munroe pointed across the hall. “Sitting room and office over there. And in the northern wing…” She counted with her fingers. “There’s the morning room, ballroom, music room, tea room, and the red drawing room.” She forced a smile. “Happy?”
Jonah raised his hand. “Where are the computers? Mine burned in the fire.”
“My parents don’t believe in computers,” said Munroe. “I mean, like, they believe they exist. But they don’t want us to use them.”
There was a low muttering, as though Munroe had just confessed her parents would be conducting unsanctioned medical experiments. Which, Fiona suspected, wasn’t entirely implausible. “Is there anywhere else we can’t go?” she prodded. “Besides the crypt?”
“Well, obviously you can’t go in the attic, but there’s no reason to anyway. The floor isn’t finished, so you’d fall through the ceiling.”
Does she really expect anyone to believe her? Rules be damned. Fiona was going to find out exactly what was going on at Winderbellow.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Tobias
Alan’s gentle snores filled the room. Tobias could see his reflection in a mirror lit by the moon. His vision was different now—sharper and more penetrating. He could hear things—distant birdsong, and the river lapping at the banks.
He felt a sudden pang of desire to see his familiar, Ottomie. He wasn’t as close with Ottomie as Oswald was with Meraline, but even so, the separation was starting to eat at him like an ulcer.
The mark on his chest and his new power ignited his emotions. In the past few days, he’d been torn between wanting to kiss or to fight someone at all times, and this morning he’d had the strongest impulse to run his fingers over the back of Fiona’s absurdly tight T-shirt. But with his heightened senses, sometimes he was merely struck by the simple beauty of the world around him. Earlier today, the golden light trickling through hemlock leaves and the lonely cries of the river gulls had left him breathless.
He stared at himself in the antique mirror, a faint golden glow around his skin. Though his rage had intensified, it now had a sharp focus. He now knew exactly what he needed to do. He gazed at the blackened wick of a candle below the mirror. Since he’d arrived here, he had yet to practice any spells.
The symbol on his chest burned with a dull heat as he muttered Queen Boudicca’s Inferno. When he finished the Angelic words, a fist-sized flame blazed around the tip of the candle. With a smile, he snuffed out the flame with his fingers.
Just as he’d thought. The magical aura he could create was now several times stronger.