She was silent for several beats, mulling over my words. “You don’t have to be that way anymore, though. You have me, Clary, and Benedict now. Youneverhave to pretend with us.” She cupped my shoulder and squeezed. The bubble returned to my chest, inflating, and making it a little hard to breathe. Her words were sweet, but I’d heard sweet words before. Words followed by a long visit to the hollow pit of betrayal.
I plastered a smile on my face, forcing it to reach my eyes. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”
A crow circled the tower above us before diving out of sight, and a moment later, a tabby cat padded down the steps, caught sight of us, then bolted back up again.
“Good, Libby has spotted us,” Dori said. “Which means that Heidi will be down soon.”
“Libby?”
“The cat. She’s Heidi’s familiar. The crow belongs to Arthur Mort. He helps run the tower with my aunt and Portia Reign. Poor guy’s the buffer between those two.”
A necessary one if the dynamic between them at myPerculiari Petitionewas anything to go by. “What’s your familiar?”
Her expression softened. “His name is Mr. Twiggins. He’s a cat, stodgy old fellow with a superiority complex, but I love him.”
I’d learned about familiars. Spiritual entities that took the form of animals, bonded to an incantor, able to communicate with their bonded telepathically or out loud. A familiar provided insight and protection, along with a connection to the spiritual realm—a gateway to the Weave. At puberty, incantors went through a ritual to summon a familiar, as their power was limited without one. Sorcerers, however, didn’t have familiars. Our direct connection to the Weave meant that all we required was a focus. Not even the Onyx bloodline, riddled with incantors, had ever produced an Arcanus who’d required a familiar. Other bloodlines and species that had joined with ours had always been overshadowed by the Onyx genes.
My family’s connection to the Weave had been strong once.
The sharp clip of heels signaled Heidi’s arrival. Libby, her familiar, trotted along beside her, wide gray eyes assessing us as her mistress made her way down the stairs.
Today, the Tower Master was dressed in a buff-colored calf-length wool skirt, cream blouse, and chocolate waistcoat that emphasized her athletic form. It was obvious that she did some kind of physical training. Her hair was down, golden locks sitting about her shoulders in gentle waves, softening the harsh planes of her striking face. She stopped on the second-to-last step, clasped her hands in front of her, and peered down at us.
“Good. You’re punctual. You may go now, Dori. I’ll make sure Miss Onyx gets to class on time.”
Dori’s shoulders dropped. “Yes, Aunt. I’ll meet you in the lunch hall after morning classes, Ana.” She slipped out of the room, closing the door softly behind her.
What was the deal with those two? It didn’t matter, but I made a mental note to ask Dori about it anyway. After all, it’s what a real friend would do, and I needed to maintain the façade of being one.
“Well,” Heidi said. “Are you ready?”
Ready to go into the catacombs where students reportedly never return from? “Do I have a choice?”
“No.”
“In that case, I’m ready.”
She crossed the room to the hearth, but Libby remained at the foot of the stairs. “Solaris, I beseech thee, guardian of the flame, arise.” She muttered something else I didn’t catch, words that were rough and guttural.
The embers glowed bright, flames erupting upward and deepening to a vibrant orange before turning purple.
A voice made from the crackle and pop of flame eating wood filled the room. “Embercrest, you call my name, and I answer.”
“I require passage for myself and one other.”
“You are expected, and so is the one who follows. Therefore, you may pass.”
The flames flared, the deep purple fading to a lilac shade.
Heidi beckoned. “Come, we must hold hands to pass.”
I eyed the flames. “Throughthe fire?”
“Yes. Solaris is the gatekeeper of the catacombs. The only way in is through him.”
I’d heard stranger things. I took her hand, and together we stepped into the purple flames.
Darkness stole my vision. When it returned, we stood in an underground chamber lit by wall sconces. Several passages veered off from the chamber, each one pitch black and forbidding.
