chapter 20

"It's a slippery slope, Em. I protect myself from a vampire in the library today, and tomorrow I protect myself from a hard question at a lecture. Soon I'l be picking research topics based on knowing how they'l turn out and applying for grants that I'm sure to win. It's important to me that I've made my reputation on my own. If I start using magic, nothing would belong entirely to me. I don't want to be the next Bishop witch." I opened my mouth to tel Em about Ashmole 782, but something made me close it again.

"I know, I know, honey." Em's voice was soothing. "I do understand. But Sarah can't help worrying about your safety. You're al the family she has now."

My fingers slid through my hair and came to rest at my temples. Conversations like this always led back to my mother and father. I hesitated, reluctant to mention my one lingering concern.

"What is it?" Em asked, her sixth sense picking up on my discomfort.

"He knew my name. I've never seen him before, but he knew who I was."

Em considered the possibilities. "Your picture's on the inside of your latest book cover, isn't it?"

My breath, which I hadn't been aware I was holding, came out with a soft whoosh. "Yes. That must be it. I'm just being sil y. Can you give Sarah a kiss from me?"

"You bet. And, Diana? Be careful. English vampires may not be as wel behaved around witches as the American ones are."

I smiled, thinking of Matthew Clairmont's formal bow. "I wil . But don't worry. I probably won't see him again."

Em was quiet.

"Em?" I prompted.

"Time wil tel ."

Em wasn't as good at seeing the future as my mother was reputed to have been, but something was niggling at her. Convincing a witch to share a vague premonition was almost impossible. She wasn't going to tel me what worried her about Matthew Clairmont. Not yet.The vampire sat in the shadows on the curved expanse of the bridge that spanned New Col ege Lane and connected two parts of Hertford Col ege, his back resting against the worn stone of one of the col ege's newer buildings and his feet propped up on the bridge's roof.

The witch appeared, moving surprisingly surely across the uneven stones of the sidewalk outside the Bodleian.

She passed underneath him, her pace quickening. Her nervousness made her look younger than she was and accentuated her vulnerability.

So that's the formidable historian, he thought wryly, mental y going over her vita. Even after looking at her picture, Matthew expected Bishop to be older, given her professional accomplishments.

Diana Bishop's back was straight and her shoulders square, in spite of her apparent agitation. Perhaps she would not be as easy to intimidate as he had hoped. Her behavior in the library had suggested as much. She'd met his eyes without a trace of the fear that Matthew had grown to rely upon from those who weren't vampires-and many of those who were.