chapter 17

I skirted under the chapel windows and through the narrow passage into the quad that had views of Oxford's only surviving medieval garden, complete with the traditional mound that had once offered a green prospect for students to look upon and contemplate the mysteries of God and nature. Tonight the col ege's spires and archways seemed especial y Gothic, and I was eager to get inside.

When the door of my apartment closed behind me, I let out a sigh of relief. I was living at the top of one of the col ege's faculty staircases, in lodgings reserved for visiting former members. My rooms, which included a bedroom, a sitting room with a round table for dining, and a decent if smal kitchen, were decorated with old prints and warm wainscoting. Al the furniture looked as if it had been cul ed from previous incarnations of the senior common room and the master's house, with down-at-the-heels late-nineteenth- century design predominant.

In the kitchen I put two slices of bread in the toaster and poured myself a cold glass of water. Gulping it down, I opened the window to let cool air into the stuffy rooms.

Carrying my snack back into the sitting room, I kicked off my shoes and turned on the smal stereo. The pure tones of Mozart fil ed the air. When I sat on one of the maroon upholstered sofas, it was with the intention to rest for a few moments, then take a bath and go over my notes from the day.

At half past three in the morning, I woke with a pounding heart, a stiff neck, and the strong taste of cloves in my mouth.

I got a fresh glass of water and closed the kitchen window. It was chil y, and I shivered at the touch of the damp air.

After a glance at my watch and some quick calculations, I decided to cal home. It was only ten-thirty there, and Sarah and Em were as nocturnal as bats. Slipping around the rooms, I turned off al the lights except the one in my bedroom and picked up my mobile. I was out of my grimy clothes in a matter of minutes-how do you get so filthy in a library?-and into a pair of old yoga pants and a black sweater with a stretched-out neck. They were more comfortable than any pajamas.The bed felt welcoming and firm underneath me, comforting me enough that I almost convinced myself a phone cal home was unnecessary. But the water had not been able to remove the vestiges of cloves from my tongue, and I dialed the number.

"We've been waiting for your cal ," were the first words I heard.

Witches.

I sighed. "Sarah, I'm fine."

"Al signs to the contrary." As usual, my mother's younger sister was not going to pul any punches. "Tabitha has been skittish al evening, Em got a very clear picture of you lost in the woods at night, and I haven't been able to eat anything since breakfast."