A Discovery of Witches by Deborah Harkness Read Free Book Online

now.”
    My fingers slid through my hair and came to rest at my temples. Conversations like this always led back to my mother and father. I hesitated, reluctant to mention my one lingering concern.
    “What is it?” Em asked, her sixth sense picking up on my discomfort.
    “He knew my name. I’ve never seen him before, but he knew who I was.”
    Em considered the possibilities. “Your picture’s on the inside of your latest book cover, isn’t it?”
    My breath, which I hadn’t been aware I was holding, came out with a soft whoosh. “Yes. That must be it. I’m just being silly. Can you give Sarah a kiss from me?”
    “You bet. And, Diana? Be careful. English vampires may not be as well behaved around witches as the American ones are.”
    I smiled, thinking of Matthew Clairmont’s formal bow. “I will. But don’t worry. I probably won’t see him again.”
    Em was quiet.
    “Em?” I prompted.
    “Time will tell.”
    Em wasn’t as good at seeing the future as my mother was reputed to have been, but something was niggling at her. Convincing a witch to share a vague premonition was almost impossible. She wasn’t going to tell me what worried her about Matthew Clairmont. Not yet.

Chapter 3
    T he vampire sat in the shadows on the curved expanse of the bridge that spanned New College Lane and connected two parts of Hertford College, his back resting against the worn stone of one of the college’s newer buildings and his feet propped up on the bridge’s roof.
    The witch appeared, moving surprisingly surely across the uneven stones of the sidewalk outside the Bodleian. She passed underneath him, her pace quickening. Her nervousness made her look younger than she was and accentuated her vulnerability.
    So that’s the formidable historian, he thought wryly, mentally going over her vita. Even after looking at her picture, Matthew expected Bishop to be older, given her professional accomplishments.
    Diana Bishop’s back was straight and her shoulders square, in spite of her apparent agitation. Perhaps she would not be as easy to intimidate as he had hoped. Her behavior in the library had suggested as much. She’d met his eyes without a trace of the fear that Matthew had grown to rely upon from those who weren’t vampires—and many of those who were.
    When Bishop rounded the corner, Matthew crept along the rooflines until he reached the New College wall. He slipped silently down into its boundaries. The vampire knew the college’s layout and had anticipated where her rooms would be. He was already tucked into a doorway opposite her staircase when she began her climb.
    Matthew’s eyes followed her around the apartment as she moved from room to room, turning on the lights. She pushed the kitchen window open, left it ajar, disappeared.
    That will save me from me breaking the window or picking her lock, he thought.
    Matthew darted across the open space and scaled her building, his feet and hands finding sure holds in the old mortar with the help of a copper downspout and some robust vines. From his new vantage point, he could detect the witch’s distinctive scent and a rustle of turning pages. He craned his neck to peer into the window.
    Bishop was reading. In repose her face looked different, he reflected. It was as if her skin fit the underlying bones properly. Her head bobbed slowly, and she slid against the cushions with a soft sigh of exhaustion. Soon the sound of regular breathing told Matthew she was asleep.
    He swung out from the wall and kicked his feet up and through the witch’s kitchen window. It had been a very long time since the vampire had climbed into a woman’s rooms. Even then the occasions were rare and usually linked to moments when he was in the grip of infatuation. This time there was a far different reason. Nonetheless, if someone caught him, he’d have a hell of a time explaining what it was.
    Matthew had to know if Ashmole 782 was still in Bishop’s possession. He hadn’t been able to