Creatures of Charm and Hunger (The Diabolist's Library #1) - Molly Tanzer Page 0,13

it?”

“Oh, of course she did,” said Nancy. Jane cringed inwardly at this; of course Miriam had passed, but her mother had been clearly quite worried about her own daughter.

And the worst part was she was right to be so.

“Oh, Jane!” said Nancy. “I’m so proud of you.” And with that she embraced her daughter, a rare though coveted occurrence—and in this case, an entirely undeserved reward.

4

* * *

JANE HAD HAD QUITE ENOUGH tea for the day, but she politely accepted a cup after Edith welcomed her into the farmhouse’s kitchen with embraces and tears of joy that were agonizing to endure. Worse, however, was Miriam’s reaction—she was, as always, reserved, but the emotion in her eyes was sincere. Under other circumstances, Jane would have been truly moved by the support and enthusiasm of these women, but receiving it when she didn’t deserve it was a kind of torture.

Nancy was not talented at idleness; not long after their return, she was up and making some hot water crust pastry for the raised meat pie that would be their celebration dinner.

“The Test wasn’t always a test of one’s self,” said Edith, answering some question Miriam had asked. Jane had only been half listening as she mulled over in her mind what had happened in her dream. “It’s only since the last, oh, fifty years or so that they changed it, right, Nance?” Nancy nodded. “The Société felt that studying for a proper examination was pointless. Only apprentices with the aptitude necessary for the Art ever make it far in their studies. We needed to test whether they had the disposition for it.”

“I never even thought about that,” said Miriam, as Jane kept her expression studiously neutral. “I imagine it might go poorly for the Société—and others—if someone violent or dangerous became a Master.”

“Oh, it doesn’t stop that,” said Nancy. “It’s more . . . if diabolic possession isn’t going to make someone happy, then it’s just all such a waste, isn’t it?”

“A waste?” asked Jane, and then cursed herself for prying.

“A waste of time, a waste of resources . . . and for what?”

“Oh, come now, Nancy, you know what it’s for.” Edith reached into her bag and took out a silver compact mirror. Dipping her finger into the powder, she tapped it along her brow line and looked up at them out of big blue eyes that had been dark brown a moment before. “There are other professions that are more lucrative, or that put one more in the spotlight . . . but none so powerful as ours. We take the world, Nancy, and we remake it to our will!”

“Only temporarily,” said Nancy. Indeed, Edith’s eyes were already darkening. “It is not good to get too cocky about what we can do, sister mine.”

“Pardon me for implying diabolism might be fun!”

“What’s not fun about spending all day, every day in a dark library under the earth, all alone, in silence?” Nancy smiled archly down at her pastry as she worked on shaping little vines and leaves for the top of the pie.

Edith’s eyes rolled to meet Jane’s, and for the first time since she’d realized how poorly things had gone during her Test, Jane’s smile was genuine.

Diabolism was her birthright. A test couldn’t tell her she was ill suited for it. She was just a bit different from the average diabolist. There had to be room for a range of experiences, surely; otherwise, all diabolists would be the same, and that just wasn’t the case.

“Ah, girls,” said Edith. “I’m ever so glad you passed. Why, if you hadn’t . . .”

Jane’s smile faltered.

“Edith!” Jane and Miriam both snapped to attention at the tone in Nancy’s voice. She was angry for some reason Jane could not perceive.

“What?” Now Miriam was the one asking unnecessary follow-up questions. “What would have happened?”

Nancy answered, speaking over Edith. “Not that it’s important, given you both passed, but when apprentices fail, it can be a bit of a problem. By then, they have intimate knowledge of our organization and our ways and even the locations of our members. Sometimes stern measures have to be taken.”

As this sank in, Jane’s eyes found Miriam’s. The revelation was just as shocking to her, given her pale face and pinched expression, though she of course had no reason to fear for her personal safety.

Jane, on the other hand . . .

Edith, who was never one to read a room, elaborated on her sister’s point. “Nobody’s ever thrilled for it to