"Thank you for your company this evening, Miss Bishop. It's been a pleasure."
"I wish I could say the same," Diana threw back at the professor, as she reached for the handle on the car door.
During a painfully awkward dinner where she seemed to be the only person actually eating her meal, Diana had tried to charm as much information from the professor as she possibly could. His words about there being another side to the world they lived in and the hints about Bishop witches and family lies continued echoing through her mind, driving her slightly crazy with the need for answers. Yet, no matter how hard she tried or how she worded her requests, Clairmont remained tight-lipped. It was incredibly frustrating how well the man could change the topic and distract her with questions about her Ph.D. research when she was trying to get information from him.
"As soon as you know the truth, Diana, I will answer any remaining questions you have," he promised. It wasn't the first time he'd made that promise to her that evening, and while Diana could read the sincerity behind his gaze, the repeated words were doing nothing to calm the fire already burning inside her.
"Or you could just give them to me now," she snapped.
The professor held her gaze for a long moment before he stretched across the seat to pull the door handle on her behalf.
"I can open the door myself," Diana bit out.
Clairmont didn't respond to her remark. Instead, he simply watched as she pushed the button to release her seat belt and then swung her legs out of the vehicle. Diana was already reaching back to slam the stupid door in his face when he called out, "Stay inside your rooms tonight, Miss. Bishop."
She opened her mouth to tell him where he could shove his advice, but something behind Clairmont's gaze stopped her. Instead, Diana found herself curtly nodding her agreement before she pushed the door shut and then strode straight inside her college building, never once looking back over her shoulder.
When she had her door locked safely behind her, Diana released a breath she didn't know she'd been holding and then bolted across the room towards her laptop. With Clairmont's words still ringing in her mind, she opened up her preferred browser and typed a new search term into Google;
Bishop witches.
Diana wasn't entirely sure how long she spent scrolling through each of the hits on the first few pages of results Google provided her with. But after clicking on the last one at the bottom of her page and finding only the barest minimum about Bridget Bishop once again, she pulled down her screen with a little more force than necessary.
All she'd been able to find was information about Bridget – one Bishop witch. Clairmont had clearly said the word "Witches," and Diana knew he'd chosen the plural for a reason - she just couldn't seem to find any information online that would explain why.
There was one last avenue of exploration open to her, but she was reluctant to use it. Clairmont's words about how she'd been lied to her whole life were still echoing through her mind, taunting her in a way she had never expected. How dare he imply that about people he'd never met before. He didn't know her family, and he didn't know the first thing about how Diana was raised. He couldn't possibly know if his words were true, so why was she so reluctant to pick up that phone and call her aunt?
Diana reached out for the device but hesitated before lifting it from the desk. It was closing in on ten pm in Oxford, which meant that it would be around five for her aunt. Not too late to seem suspicious, but late enough that it would probably concern Sarah. Diana knew she should wait until the following afternoon. It would be easier to talk about her concerns when her aunts weren't already in a heightened state of worry, thanks to the lateness of her call. But Diana also knew that she would be unlikely to sleep that evening without some answers, and she was reluctant to leave her rooms and head down to the river, given what had happened earlier that day.
Steeling her nerve, she closed her fingers around the handset, unlocked the device, and pulled up the number labeled as HOME. After hesitating for a moment longer, she hit dial and lifted the phone to her ear.
One… two… three… four… five rings, and Diana contemplated hanging up. But before the sixth could complete, the line suddenly connected, and Sarah's gruff voice asked, "Hello?"
"Hi, Sarah. It's me."
"Diana? What's - what's wrong?" her aunt asked, and Diana knew she'd done the math to work out the time difference between them.
"Nothing's wrong. I was just calling to chat."
Sarah hummed in a way that told Diana she didn't believe a word that was being said, and Diana slumped back into her seat. She'd been hoping to ease into this conversation, but she should have known her aunt wouldn't let that happen.
"I was uh – I was just wondering if you knew of a Peter Knox?" she asked instead, "He said he knew Mom."
"Peter Knox?" Sarah repeated, and Diana had never heard so much ice fill her aunt's tone before. "Peter Knox is there?"
"He works for the university," Diana explained.
"You need to stay away from him, Diana!"
"Why?" she chuckled, a little stunned that two people who didn't know each other had now given her the same warning. "Who is Peter Knox?"
"He's – He's not someone you should be spending time with," Sarah rushed out. "Just – just promise me you'll stay away from him, Diana."
"Trust me, I'm trying," Diana muttered quietly, before raising her voice to ask, "What's going on, Sarah? You're not the first person to tell me to stay away from him today. Who is this guy? What does he want from me? And how did he know Mom?"
"He's – it's – it's complicated," Sarah deflected, and with those four stuttered words, Diana felt her heart sink.
She'd comforted herself most of the night by repeating the idea that Clairmont didn't know her family and, therefore, he had no way of knowing she'd been lied to. But her aunt's answer that evening had told her everything she needed to know – something was being kept from her. Something Peter Knox was involved in.
"I'm not a child, Sarah. What's going on?" she pressed.
"I don't think you are a child, Diana. I just – I'm just trying to keep you safe. It's what your parents wanted."
"My parents are dead," Diana threw back at her aunt, knowing it was a low blow but being unable to stop herself from delivering it anyway. "And if you really wanted to keep me safe, you'd answer my questions. I need to know who he is and what I'm dealing with, Sarah, because it's pretty hard to stay away from a man who's been following me around the city all day."
Sarah sucked in a harsh breath on the other end of the line, and Diana silently cursed herself for revealing too much information.
"He's what?" her aunt asked, with that ice creeping back into her tone once again.
"It's nothing," Diana assured her, "I'm taking care of it. It would just help to know what I'm missing, Sarah. Something's going on here that I don't understand, and I need to know what it is."
There was a deafening silence on the line. If it hadn't been for the harsh sound of her aunt's breathing, Diana would have assumed the call had dropped. She waited, holding her breath, for an answer to come - but none did.
The longer she waited, the more her anger began to build, until finally, sick of being kept in the dark, Diana snapped out, "Sarah! Who the hell is Peter Knox, and what does he have to do with the Bishop witches?"
The silence on the line seemed to echo between the two of them until Sarah finally asked, with resignation ringing through each word, "What do you know of the Bishop witches, Diana?"
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