Free The Book Of Shade (Shadeborn 1) by K.C. Finn Page B

at 6p.m., snorting his disgusting way to the private corridor as he showed her to the stairs. He pointed upwards and deserted her completely, but as she began to ascend them, she saw Novel’s white haired head above her. He was leaning on a banister some three floors up, turning when he heard the sound of her heels on the boards. She looked up again and tried to give him an eager smile, but he was frowning heavily.
    “Sensible footwear in future,” he called.
    “I don’t know if I own anything that you’d call sensible,” Lily answered, thinking how slippery her dolly shoes would be on varnished wood.
    “Of course you don’t,” Novel sighed.
    He was dressed in a plain shirt, with a black ascot tie tucked into its collar, which made him look positively funereal next to Lily in her pink skinny jeans. The strange pair stood together in the rehearsal space, which was actually a large cavernous attic filled with magic-show props. An ominous vanishing cabinet stared out at Lily from one cobwebbed corner.
    “So, do you do real magic too then?” she asked. Novel raised a pale brow. “No,” Lily corrected, “I mean… I think I mean human magic? Tricks and things.”
    He nodded, pouting his lip in thought. “It’s actually a much harder thing to perfect than my natural powers. I’ve been learning since Victoria was crowned.”
    Lily froze. “That would make you two hundred years old,” she breathed.
    “Two hundred and sixty nine next January,” he answered simply. Then, noticing her open-mouthed stare, he added, “I’m afraid you’ve got rather a long life ahead of you, Lily. Longer than you’d ever have imagined before.”
    “But you look so young,” she stammered. She stepped closer to Novel, taking in his smooth skin, barely a line on it. He was old fashioned, but not actually old. If you put him in a tracksuit and dyed his hair blonde, he could have quite easily waltzed into Guttersnipes and demanded a student discount.
    “Shades age one human year for every twenty-five they spend in this world,” he said, treading backwards to make some distance between them again, “after they’ve matured at eighteen, of course. Physically, I’m twenty-eight. But mentally, well…”
    The history geek buried deep in Lily’s brain told her that, if this was all true and not still some bizarre prank in the making, the man standing before her had lived through all the periods of modern history that had fascinated her ever since she was a child. She watched in awe as she took in his antique clothes again, imagining how he might have worn them proudly in the time that they were actually meant for. It was like how her mother still thought that 80s legwarmers were cool.
    “I suggest you work on your concentration if you want to learn anything,” he said, his voice dropping into an irate rasp.
    “Sorry,” Lily said quickly, realising she was staring at his trosuers. “Right. I’m here. Listening. Focused.”
    “Good.”
    Novel stepped around her in a wide circle, leaving Lily to face the half-open vanishing cabinet in the far corner of the room. Her skin prickled when she sensed that the illusionist was behind her, but he had stepped into her blind spot, presumably so as not to distract her. When she turned her head, he appeared to have vanished, save for the gentle sound of his breathing, but then she felt him move. He hovered his hands above her shoulders, not quite touching them, but acting like a guard, as though he could pre-empt whatever impossible thing was about to occur.
    “The most important thing is to remain calm,” he said, his voice vibrating against the back of her head, “accidents tend to happen when we get upset.”
    Lily didn’t like the sound of that one bit.
    “It’s hardly a calming influence with you creeping up behind me,” she jibed.
    “I was going to ground your power so you don’t blow yourself up, but if you’d rather I didn’t.” His hands slowly started to leave her