The Necromancer Trilogy: Prophecy

Chapter Six - Of Bicycles and Death Sentences

“You’re up early,” Sophie’s father remarked. “Doing anything special?”

“Hmm? Oh, just going over to a friend’s house,” Sophie said, absently.

“What friend?” her father looked surprised. “You never see any friends.”

Sophie stuck out her tongue. “Molly Parker.”

It was the first name she could think of.

“That’s lovely, dear,” her mother beamed. “You need to spend more time with people your own age.”

Oh yeah? Sophie thought, viciously. I bet you’d be so pleased if I started screeching and squealing every other word, dyed my hair platinum blonde and plastered my face in make-up. I bet you’ll be thrilled the day I start tottering back home at night, tipsy and falling off my six-inch heels. I bet you’ll be delighted when I turn into a slut.

The bitterness of her own thoughts surprised her. Sophie hadn’t had the best week. It was crashing down on her now.

“Mmmhmm,” she nodded, absently.

“Are you alright, Soph?” her father gave her a hard look. “Is everything alright at school?”

“Everything’s normal,” Sophie confirmed, which at least wasn’t a lie.

Her father stared at her face. “Ok…”

“I’d better be going,” Sophie forced herself to smile. “I don’t want to keep Molly waiting.”

“I can give you a lift if you wait half an hour,” her mother called.

“Don’t worry!” Sophie shouted back. “I said I’d be there by half-nine! I can cycle!”

“Alright! Have a nice time!”

The door closed, cutting off the cheerful goodbyes. Sophie rested her forehead against the cold brick of the house and shut her eyes. Why was she so angry at the moment? Why did she feel coiled up, like a compressed spring, desperate to explode?

  She hauled her bike out of the back of the garage, wincing as she looked at the scratches on the black paint; it had been buried under a heap of garden furniture for about a year. Luckily, though, it was still road-worthy and Sophie was soon pedalling away down the road.

Celia had told Sophie to wait in the forest where they had first met. From there, she would take Sophie back to Dovecot Museum to meet the Elders. Celia wasn’t there when Sophie arrived. Someone else was.

“Believe me, this isn’t voluntary,” Chrysanthemum said, coolly. “But Celia is otherwise engaged.”