you feel the summons?” Mr. Tom asked, pulling down the tea set covered in yellow and orange flowers and placing it on the granite island. Porcelain clinked and shook as the pieces settled. It was the ugliest tea set I’d ever seen in my life. “She is calling in reinforcements.”
“Of course we felt it. The whole world probably felt it,” Niamh said. “It nearly blew my hair back. ’Bout time, too. There’s only so much carry-on we can handle from Edgar while he hems and haws over that terrible excuse for an instruction manual.”
“It is not an instruction manual,” Edgar said patiently—the guy never seemed to lose his temper. “It’s an ages’ old magical artifact that remains lost until a new chosen is selected, and then is miraculously found. Given I was the one who found it in the garden, I am the one able to decipher its mysteries.” He scratched his head, and small flakes drifted toward the counter.
“Edgar, please.” Mr. Tom slid the tea set further away from him. Porcelain clattered. “Use some Head & Shoulders or visit Agnes. She can probably concoct a potion to get rid of that…issue.”
“It’s my nails. I need to cut them.” Edgar looked at his pointed, claw-like fingernails.
“Mysteries, me arse.” Niamh shook her head and looked out the window onto the sunny but cold afternoon.
“The summons wasn’t connected with the minor setbacks I’ve had with deciphering the book,” Edgar said, “though you’d think the house would make it a little easier for its chosen to read it. The summons was for help with flying, or maybe just help in general, wasn’t it, Jessie?”
I sat opposite Niamh at the round table and pulled my laptop in front of me. “I don’t know, honestly. I was just about to hurtle to my death when a gust of wind pushed me back and the trapdoor closed by itself.”
“You did those things,” Mr. Tom said, dropping a tea bag into the pot. “Half the things you do are still subconscious; you know that. Which is to be expected, of course. Your magic is designed to respond to your needs. If it weren’t, you wouldn’t be able to use half of it. Not without proper training, and, as we’ve seen from Edgar’s efforts, you do not have that.”
“I thought I was doing okay,” Edgar muttered, reaching up to scratch his head again. He paused with his hand halfway there, caught Mr. Tom’s severe look, and slowly dropped it.
I frowned at Mr. Tom. “I was preparing to jump, though.”
“You only think that. What you were really doing was psyching yourself up to shut it all down and call for help.” He lifted his nose and pulled bread out of the cabinet. “It seems you have an idea of the kind of help you need, and we are not it.”
A grin spread across Niamh’s face. “She has twelve spots in that Council Room for her staff, but you thought if she had ye, she wouldn’t need to fill them all up, is that right? You thought an old, fired butler with too few marbles rolling around in his head was all she needed to conquer this incredible new magic? Well, don’t ye think the world of yerself, boy.” She leaned back, chuckling. “You know yerself that she needs all twelve in that circle. She certainly needs whoever is meant to fill the number one spot.”
When she paused this time, I couldn’t help a rolling wave of unease in my gut. No one had yet explained to me why I needed a council. What I was meant to do with the incredible magic I’d eventually wield. Was there a larger purpose for me, or was that council just meant to keep me alive if anyone threatened me? I didn’t know, and I was too chicken to ask.
Niamh entwined her fingers. “That is the way of it. It’s the way it’s always been, hasn’t it, Edgar?”
Edgar beamed. “So you do listen—”
“She should’ve sent out that call before now,” Niamh continued. “Elliot Graves has already shown his interest in her. Given that she now rules Ivy House, he’ll be thinking on how to get her to join his faction. He’s the best mage in the world—he’s watched by his peers. Even if people don’t have a clue what Ivy House is, they’ll certainly get curious in a hurry. If you think they won’t come knocking, trying to poke the bear and see what all this is about, you’re a thickheaded dope, so