New York : Henry Holt , 2008
Carrighar sat back in his chair. “I met them today” he said abruptly, dropping
“Met whom?” Miss Allardyce took another sip of wine, trying to drag her attention away from memories of Michael’s – er – Mr. Carrighar’s infectious laugh.
“Your pupils. Persephone and Penelope.”
“What!” Miss Allardyce nearly dropped her wineglass. “Where? Are they all right?”
“They’re quite well, and very charming girls. My master was quite taken with them.”
Mr. Carrighar was still staring at the table.
“What were you…?” A horrible suspicion began to creep over her. “No. You can’t drag them into this, I won’t let your use them --------“
Mr. Carrighar held up one hand. “No one said anything about using them, Miss Allardyce. They need not have anything at all to do with this -------“
“----- if I accede to your blackmail and give what you want,” she finished. The delicate wine she was sipping with such pleasure – the wine Mr. Carrighar had brought for her – seemed to sour in her stomach. She made a gesture and the glass disappeared.
“That is a crude way to put it” Mr. Carrighar’s voice was steady, but his hands betrayed him by curling into fists.
“Nonetheless, it’s true” Miss Allardyce rose and took a few jerky, hesitating steps, them whirled back to face Mr. Carrighar. “How could you?” she shot at him. “They’re innocent children.”
He rose too, “They’re trained witches like you.”
Prepared by: Cheryl Roycroft for South Carolina Young Adult Book Award Nominees, 2010-2011
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