Extraits

What’s the worst that can happen in a library anyway?

Tell that to the guy who was killed by Colonel Mustard with the candlestick

“You know you make sex noises over your food, right?” Sofia teased.

“No I don’t,” I countered as I placed my mug down and lifted a pastry to my mouth. “I’m a lot louder than that in bed.”

Tory had been my name throughout everything that had shaped me into the person I was today and I had no interest in shedding that persona now or in the future.

My Greek mythology knowledge came pretty much entirely from Disney's Hercules, but that serpentine beast had stuck in my mind.

I like facts. I'm a Sagittarius which helps; we love learning new things and are usually pretty intelligent, she replied with a smirk.

"Maybe you should have picked an easier House to join," he warned. "I don't get the feeling you're cut out for the trials of this one."

"Well you made it in," I pointed out. "So it can't be that hard."

We stared across the lake. And I decided Sirens were my least favourite Order of them all.

Tears never did anyone any favours, but sometimes they just needed to fall.

Diego moved into the middle of our group and draped his arms around all three of us. For once, he wasn't wearing his hat and I was kinda surprised to find his dark curls fell down almost to his shoulders. “Can we pretend you're all my dates tonight? Make every guy in Zodiac think I'm er - cómo se dice? - the shit.”

That night I sat in bed just staring at that bruise, wondering how a physical wound could look so bright and angry but emotional wounds stayed entirely invisible. I wanted my hurt branded on me, to remind me never to trust anyone again. So I dyed my hair the colour of that bruise. Black and blue. My own personal wound.