Tara Duncan and the Spellbinders Read Free

responsibilities, and the pain of exile.
    â€œI don’t have to give you any explanations,” she said coldly. “Go to your room.”
    Tara felt completely frustrated. She had so many questions on the tip of her tongue. Why did she and her grandmother have the same last name, since her parents had been married? Why didn’t Isabella ever want to talk? Why didn’t her parents have a tombstone? And what was the mysterious work her grandmother did?
    Tara had glimpsed the briefcases full of dollars and euros. From the library window she had seen not only the local farmers and businesspeople, but also big limousines and watchful bodyguards with the ill-disguised bumps of their revolvers. And her grandmother was often away, traveling to unknown places.
    Two village girls came every day to do the housekeeping, and three other people lived in the manor besides Tara and her grandmother: Deria, Tachil, and Mangus. Deria was a young brunette who never let Tara out of her sight and gave the odd impression that she was there to protect her. A beautiful woman with a curious aura of wildness, Deria was like a cat, always on the alert. It was impossible to catch her unawares (and not for want of trying!) or get her off balance. Tara had watched as Deria trained, easily lifting weights that Tachil would have struggled with. Tachil was tall and skinny, and the woodcarvings he was always making threatened to take over the big house. He was in charge of the garden, which he tended with maniacal care. Mangus, the cook, was short, fat, and balding. He enjoyed life, was always laughing, and produced some amazing dishes. Betty and Fabrice thought it odd that the gardener and the cook lived at the manor house, but Tara was so used to it, that she would miss them terribly if they ever left.
    She heard a rustling behind her. Pet magpie on her shoulder, Deria strode into the study to announce Isabella’s next visitor. Tara was annoyed to sense that her grandmother was relieved to end their discussion.
    â€œI’m terribly sorry, Tara’tylanhnem, I must meet with this gentleman. Go on child, I’ll see you later.”
    There was no point in insisting, Tara knew. She shrugged and left, dragging her feet. She went up to her room and jumped onto her bed.
    Tara lived in a spacious, comfortable manor house that had been restored in the nineteenth century. She was especially fond of two places in it. One was her room, in the left-hand tower. It was big and very sunny, and had a view of the lawn that sloped gently down to the nearby forest. At dawn and twilight, Tara could see deer, stags, and even wild boars roaming at the edge of the woods. The other place was the library. She had loved reading ever since she was little, especially mysteries and adventure stories.
    Tara was about to get up when the ringing phone startled her. Deria had put the call through.
    â€œTara?” came a whisper on the phone.
    â€œFabrice?” Tara answered, instinctively whispering as well. “What’s up?”
    â€œYou’ll never believe it! You’ve infected me!”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œYour gift, that thing of yours. I did it too!”
    â€œListen, Fabrice, if this is a joke—”
    â€œIt’s no joke,” he said, his voice shaking with excitement. “There was an accident. I went to the north tower to see the renovation that the workers had just finished. They hadn’t bolted the scaffold properly and it came crashing down just as I was walking underneath.”
    â€œReally? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
    â€œThat’s what I’m trying to tell you. You must be contagious, because when I saw the scaffold falling on me, I did like you do: I held out my hands and sort of pushed. And it worked! The whole thing flew up. But I’ve got a heck of a headache now.”
    Tara sat up in bed, thunderstruck.
    â€œAnd you think it’s really me, who—”
    â€œI don’t