Read Online The Book of Blood and Shadow by Robin Wasserman - Free Book Online Page B

tables?”
    Chris cleared his throat. “Actually, it’s multivariable calculus with—”
    “It’s useless.” The Hoff snorted. “Young man, no one else is going to tell you the truth, so allow me. Your education is a joke. Your classes lack quality and depth, and even if you were learning from the Athenian masters themselves, do you really think the world needs yet another term paper on the themes of protofeminist rage in Macbeth or the structural causes of World War I? It’s busywork, son. It’s a scam to trade your tuition money for a piece of paper that will let you go work at a bank or some company for the rest of your life, pretending that because you once read Plato, you can call yourself an educated man.” He grazed his fingers along Elizabeth’s secret pages, then pointed to the door. “That, out there, is a facsimile of knowledge. This is real. The choice is yours, of course. I assume you’re not the only student capable of translation work, though in this godforsaken place, one can never be sure.”
    Chris looked helplessly at Max, who only had eyes for the Hoff. “We’ll do what we can,” he said, steady.
    The Hoff nodded. “And you,” he said.
    Me.
    “You have school, of course, and I suspect I don’t need to lecture you about what a waste that sand trap of bureaucracy and busywork will turn out to be, but your obligations are your obligations, nonetheless. However, I expect that while you’re here—”
    “Actually,” I said, my voice smaller than I would have liked, “I was thinking that maybe I could stick with the Elizabeth letters. For a while. If that’s all right.”
    His bushy eyebrows nearly receded to his distant hairline. I couldn’t blame him. Here was my chance to do something thatactually mattered , and I was going to pass it up for some wannabe poet’s cryptic teen angst?
    I was.
    The Hoff was nodding. “Yes. Yes, yes. Who knows what else may be hidden in those letters? You follow your instincts, Nora. You’re the miracle worker.”
    I hadn’t even been sure he knew my first name.
    “You have changed history,” he said. “Better, you’ve revealed history. Your Elizabeth translations will no doubt be worthy of publication, perhaps even a small volume of their own. So yes, keep at it.”
    And then, in awkward slow motion, he opened his arms and lurched toward me. Before I had a chance to back away, he had folded himself around me, his sandpaper skin pressed to my cheek. I held myself stiff, enduring.
    “Gratias tibi ago,” he said. Thank you . “Everything will be different now.”
    “You’re welcome,” I mumbled, and waited for it to be over.

19
    “Okay, I’m here.” Adriane flounced into the church with two pizza boxes and a bottle of vodka. “Now who wants to tell me why? Because giant crosses and creepy statues of the Virgin Mary do not a celebration make.”
    “They do when it’s the scene of our triumph.” Chris swung her off her feet and twirled her around, pizza, vodka, and all. “Ever dreamed of kissing a world-famous historian? Pucker up.”
    Adriane twisted out of his grasp. “As far as world-famous goes, I’ve got my hopes set on rock star. Or maybe astronaut.” She set the celebratory provisions down in an empty pew. “Explanation? Anyone?”
    “We made a brilliant discovery,” Chris said.
    “Nora made a discovery,” Max said.
    Adriane arched an eyebrow. “Dead-girl porn? I knew it!”
    “Ignore her,” I said quickly, catching the look on Max’s face. “She can’t help herself. It’s a disease.”
    “Gutterminditis,” Adriane said. “If you want to use the technical Latin term. As I know you do.”
    The sanctuary, which had seemed foreboding in the pitch black, glowed in the soft light of the overhead candelabras, bright enough to illuminate sculpted stone angels swirling around the pillars and golden candles ringing the altar, dim enough to disguise peeling paint, splintered wood, rust and corrosion and decay. It wasn’t