The Resurrection of Blake House

Chapter One: Trapped

Late September 1888

Gideon Blake reached for the china cup perched on the corner of the massive mahogany desk, holding his breath for the miracle.

Every morning he spared at least a few minutes to greet the sun. The piercing morning light sparkled through the huge stained glass window, bathing him in color and warmth. Imported from an Irish cathedral by his father, the brilliantly colored stained glass was the centerpiece of the second-floor library. Gideon had been watching the sunrise through that window almost every morning of his life, and he had yet to see the sun pass through it in exactly the same way twice. If he didn't already believe in magic, the morning view from his library window would be enough to change his mind.

"Good morning, sir," Evans announced, appearing at the top of the staircase with a perfectly polished steaming silver pot.

Gideon nodded his acknowledgement, his reverie broken. The balding butler didn't bother asking if he wanted sugar or cream. Evans had served the Blake family since before Gideon's birth. After his parents had died, the aging servant adamantly refused to leave. Now, years later, Evans still greeted the master of the house exactly the same way every morning: with a pot of strong black coffee and a crisply folded newspaper.

Gideon didn't even turn his head as he heard the coffee slide onto the small Moroccan table next to his worn leather armchair.

"Could you send up a tray, Evans?" He wrestled his eyes away from the stained glass and back to the pile of books and scrolls heaped on his desk. "A working breakfast today," he said, downing almost half the cup as he sat back heavily in his chair. Gideon frowned. "Maybe a working lunch, too. Could you send up a second pot?"

"Of course, sir." His most trusted servant paused at the top of the stairs. "Will Miss Raven be joining you?"

Gideon fought down an amused smile. "In the remote possibility that my apprentice rises before noon, I'll make sure to let you know, because surely it means the world is coming to an end."

His apprentice was many things, including beautiful, talented, and brilliant, but an early riser she was not. Gideon scanned the newspaper headlines as he finished his coffee and poured another cup. He was quite addicted to the strong brew his butler made, and typically polished off at least a pot during breakfast. Blizzard Death Toll Rises, the day's newspaper proclaimed. He frowned, tapping his heavy sigil ring against the desk in agitation.

The weather worried him. Although the blizzard had taken place far from the tiny town of Whitfield, it was still early in the season for such a vicious storm. And so many deaths... did they not have a decent Elemental Mage competent enough to at least get out a warning? Gideon closed his eyes, and forced himself to think the situation through. The incident might indicate some kind of natural imbalance, and that could be bad for tonight's ritual.

He found it too easy to ignore the pile of research in front of him and stare, brooding, out the window. This morning, instead of the customary rosy glow the sun usually projected when it hit one of the red, diamond-shaped panes, the entire library plunged into a deep shade of crimson. For just a moment, his beloved library, full of the collected knowledge of his ancestors, painstakingly gathered and passed down over the course of centuries, was bathed in an eerily dark red glow, the exact color of blood.

Almost as quickly as it happened, the moment was gone. The library, with its carefully shelved books and scrolls protected behind glassed-in shelves and velvet-topped reading stands, returned to its customary gleaming brightness.

Perhaps it was Foresight, or an omen, he brooded. Tonight is Raven's first Transformation. Perhaps another night would be better. A vision of blood, a possible elemental imbalance responsible for multiple deaths... He shook his head, undecided. Raven would be so disappointed if he postponed her first Transformation again.