She pulled out of the tree-covered drive and gaped at the Blake Mansion, which really resembled a miniature old-country fortress more than any mansion she’d ever seen in her life. It wasn’t in disrepair, but its stone walls were weathered and covered in ivy, and the tree that sat directly in the middle of the garden looked more ancient than any of the others she’d seen in on the property. Elm, she noted. A warden tree, maybe? She was picking up on some sort of presence, but nothing obviously malicious.
There weren’t any other cars parked out front, so Cassie decided that she was on her own. It would’ve been nice to have had someone there to help her with her bags, but she could manage just fine by herself. The rusty key did give her some difficulties, but she traced a little unlocking rune on the door to ease things, smiling in satisfaction when it swung open with a loud groan.
“So,” a voice came from behind her, “the old bat sent a witch.”
Cassie shrieked and dropped her bag, spinning on her heel… only to find a man around her own age, with slightly-tousled dark hair and a sour expression on his face. “Who the hell are you?”
“Ward,” he said. “You could’ve waited, you know, instead of using spells on my door—”
“It wasn’t a spell,” Cassie retorted, “it was a little rune-charm. Besides, you weren’t exactly making yourself useful, were you? The gate wasn’t even open.”
“And still you got in.”
She frowned, scooping her bags off of the floor. His accent was difficult to place, but it didn’t sound local. British, maybe? “Mrs. Blake gave me the impression that someone responsible stayed around to keep the estate. Someone experienced.”
“I’m very experienced, witch.”
There was a tiny spark of curiosity in his green eyes. “Then what are you?”
“I’m… I’m Cassie,” she said, sticking out her free hand. “Just Cassie.”
