Today's Reading
FIRST
CHAPTER ONE
October 28, 10:33 a.m. GMT
Exeter, County of Devon, England
Sharyn Karr was no witch—despite what local townsfolk might believe of her and her classmates. Even her mother back in Tulsa, who was devoutly Catholic, all but disowned her after learning Sharyn had fled across the Atlantic to pursue a postgraduate degree in witchcraft at the University of Exeter.
She'll eventually get over it, Sharyn repeated to herself for the umpteenth time.
Her mother certainly would not approve of this morning's sojourn across the city. Even Sharyn saw little reason for this pilgrimage. She had a paper to start and had just completed a two-mile run when her two roommates had insisted she accompany them on this journey. The day was sunny, a rarity this past month, and clearly her roommates wanted to escape the three-bedroom flat they shared. They cajoled and browbeat and pressed upon her the morning trip's academic interest, while also stressing the respect that was owed the past.
Ultimately, Sharyn was persuaded by a promise of the city's best coffee and doughnuts—the latter being a particular weakness of hers.
And what the hell, I did finish a two-mile run.
After a bus ride and short walk through the crisp autumn air, their goal appeared ahead: the crumbling gatehouse of Rougemont Castle. Its archway, constructed of rough-hewn red stones quarried from local hills, was all that remained of the old Norman stronghold built by William the Conqueror in the eleventh century. She gaped at its towering height, which looked ready to crumble upon her. Down lower, modern black iron gates stood open, allowing traffic into the courtyard beyond, where a music festival was being set up.
She and her friends had not come to participate in such festivities. Though, one of the pair looked enviously upon the trio of stages being set up by bustling crews of roadies.
"I attended a Coldplay concert here several years ago," Naomi said. "Back in my wild youth. I snuck out of the house with a group of friends. On the eve of my A-level exams. Supposed to be studying, but I had a crush on the group's bass player. So, I could not be dissuaded."
"Seemed to have done you no harm," Tag noted, leaning heavily on his cane as he kept up with them. "You still did crackin' well on those tests, didn't ya? Got accepted to Oxford with a full ride. Graduated with a dual masters. Archaeology and anthropology."
Naomi shrugged. "Took me until I was twenty-one. If I had reined in that rebellious streak, I could've completed the coursework a year or two earlier."
Sharyn detected no conceit behind the woman's words, only a matter-of-fact resignation. Naomi Wren, who had grown up in Wales, was not only the youngest in their study group at Exeter, but also the youngest accepted into the university program. Only months into their first semester, Naomi had already proven to have a nearly eidetic memory and an uncanny ability to wend together disparate disciplines. Her mind was as slippery as it was sharp.
Though, from the bright crimson dye of her hair and buxom shape, few suspected the brilliance shining behind Naomi's forest-green eyes. Even more daunting, the woman's legs seemed to stretch forever, presently accentuated by skin-tight jeans, which were topped by a vintage denim jacket embroidered with the Welsh battle standard: an emerald-and-white flag emblazoned with a crimson dragon balanced on one foot.
Sharyn could not help but feel inadequate in Naomi's shadow, not that her roommate ever sought to diminish her. Still, Sharyn's bachelor's degree from the University of Oklahoma in library sciences, with a minor in art history, seemed a paltry accomplishment in comparison. Like Naomi, Sharyn had earned herself an undergraduate scholarship—though in her case, it was not for academics, but for track-and-field. Still, her Sooners' team had become national champions, for which she took great pride.
Despite continuing to keep fit, Sharyn looked the part of a librarian. She kept her blonde hair in a trim ponytail, wore dark-rimmed glasses when her contacts bothered her after too much eyestrain (which was often), and her figure, while slim and athletic, had none of Naomi's dangerous curves.
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