House of Snake and Tome

By Thomas K. Carpenter

At the heart of the Hundred Halls, four secret societies have manipulated events for their own dark purposes. They tamper with forbidden magics. They blackmail kings. No corner of the world escapes their reach.

Moriganne must acquire an invite one of these societies or her father will banish her from the family, but her biggest rival stands in her way at every step. When an unexpected death leads to an investigation that implicates the societies, Moriganne must decide what is more important—protecting her siblings and her standing in the family, or finding justice for those she has lost.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Thomas Carpenter
• Release date: Apr 19, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005550431

Thomas K. Carpenter

Thomas K. Carpenter resides in Colorado with his wife Rachel. When he’s not busy writing his next book, he's out hiking or skiing or getting beat by his wife at cards. Visit him online at www.thomaskcarpenter.com, or sign up for his newsletter at https://www.subscribepage.com/trialsofmagic.

Book preview

House of Snake and Tome

Book Two in Stone Singers Hall

By

Thomas K. Carpenter

Copyright Information

House of Snake and Tome

Book Two in the Stone Singers Hall

A Hundred Halls Universe Series

Copyright © 2022 by Thomas K. Carpenter

Published by Black Moon Books

www.blackmoonbooks.com

Cover Design 2022 by Ravven.com

Discover other titles by this author on:

www.thomaskcarpenter.com

This is a novel work of fiction. All characters, places, and incidents described in this publication are used fictitiously, or are entirely fictional.

No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, except by an authorized retailer, or with written permission of the publisher. Inquiries may be addressed via email to [e-mail]

CONTENTS

House of Snake and Tome

Storm of Dragon and Stone Sample

About the Author

Special Thanks

Hundred Halls Appendix

Hundred Halls Books

Other Works

Copyright

Start Reading Now

Chapter One

The dress alone was worth a quarter of a million dollars: gold flake scales hardened by enchantment, pearl-inlaid belt cinched around her slender middle, and a silk double split skirt that revealed her tanned thighs. Moriganne tugged on the jade-and-diamond necklace that lay uncomfortably against her collarbones.

I feel like I'm wearing armor, she said, shifting in the back seat, stretching her neck and grimacing.

Andromeda swatted her leg gently. You're fidgeting more than a toddler who's had too many bowls of Fireballs.

Moriganne inhaled slowly, willing herself to calm. Are you sure this doesn't look ridiculous? It feels ridiculous.

High fashion is supposed to be over the top. Last year, Celesse showed up in what looked like if the Queen of Hearts had banged the Mad Hatter and had a kid. Andromeda checked over her shoulder, her lips coming to a point. The privacy shield was enchanted but they'd promised each other not to trust the normal protections because they could be compromised. Aren't you used to wearing weird stuff?

This—she tapped on the scaled bodice—doesn't allow for breathing, which is kind of important for singing. Weird I can deal with. Comfort is a priority for performance.

Andromeda stuck her face to the window, which reflected the Mayan necklace tattoo she'd added when they'd been staying at her father's place near Puerto Vallarta. It was the least amount of body modification that she'd had in the time Moriganne had known her. Not even her eyes were changed. They'd been so focused on preparing for this event and the new school year that her youngest sister had barely experimented with new mods.

Three more limos and then you're up, said Andromeda as she put a hand on her knee to calm its bounce. Don't worry. Nerves are expected. Just remember everything we talked about this summer.

Everything? Low bar, said Moriganne, chuckling. I thought studying for the Codas was hard.

The SUV was nearing the red carpet, which only increased Moriganne's heart rate. Camera flashes bounced off the SUV. She flinched even though the tinted window protected her vision.

Oh, one more thing, said Andromeda, smiling slyly. I had something made. A little extra protection.

She reached into the fanny pack around her midsection. An oblong black shape crawled up Andromeda's wrist.

What is it? asked Moriganne, trying not to recoil.

A scarab. Not real. It's made of discarded insect carapaces. One of the fifth years in my hall made it. Andromeda held up her arm to Moriganne's chest. The insect crawled off her wrist, attaching itself to the thin gold scales. The jagged legs pressed through the gaps against her skin, but for her sister's sake, she repressed the urge to shudder. It'll keep Monique from laying any charms on you. The mandibles will click if it detects that kind of magic.

You really think our mom would do that?

Moriganne hadn't gotten used to calling Victor and Monique her parents. Her real ones were Hal and Judith, long in the grave, but leaving Minerva behind had meant adopting her new family.

Never a direct charm, but the perfume she likes to wear was specifically brewed to make her presence appealing and to make those speaking with her more agreeable to her will. She's not above using that influence, even on her kids, and especially if it's to get back at Vic. When Moriganne made a face, Andromeda continued, If it's any consolation, if you get into Snake and Tome, you'll learn nasty tricks like that too.

"When I get into Snake and Tome," said Moriganne.

When, said Andromeda, nodding. Hopefully tonight is a formality. Mom's just kicking the tires on her oldest living daughter to see if she's worthy enough.

They both knew that was unlikely to be true. Andromeda's flat gaze said as much. The SUV lurched to a stop which sent Moriganne's heart rate into the stratosphere. Rows of photographers were waiting for her exit.

Shit, said Andromeda, sliding out of the way and pulling her knees to her chest in the shadows of the back seat as an attendant in a loincloth and jackal headdress pulled the door open. You're up, squeaked her sister, sticking out her thumb.

The red carpet was no stranger to her former self, but she'd had the aura of the Siren of Savannah to wrap around her slender shoulders. Excellence bred the arrogance that one belonged, but Moriganne felt like a complete fraud inside this stolen skin. As she stepped out of the SUV, cameras flashing like a thousand supernovas, Moriganne put on a mask of conceit. The MOMA Gala Ball had to be her return to elite society. If she couldn't maneuver an invite into Snake and Tome, then Victor would cut her out of family decisions. He'd made it clear that entrance into the secret society was a prerequisite to his favor.

Moriganne strode up the red carpet, which led to the enormous glass front of the Museum of Magical Artifacts. She wore high heels as if she were born to them, but the hundreds of eyes—both human and camera—made each step towards the entrance a treacherous affair as if she were walking on ice. The relief when the jackal-headed attendant opened the door to the main lobby was sweet, but she never let it travel to her expression, which stayed cold and impartial.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Blake Holsten, resplendent in the dress of a Nubian queen, glaring down at her from the balcony. Her fellow Stone Singer's hair was bound in overlapping braids that formed an architecture hanging off the side of her head, while her voluminous black satin dress was accented with a gold jabot collar and rings around her slender neck. The smoldering hatred could have burned down the entire Amazon forest. Moriganne flexed her shoulders and gave her rival a tiny wave while lifting the back of her high heel. Adding a wink for good measure. When Blake stormed away, Moriganne grinned internally. There was no way she'd get Blake back on her side, so she didn't have to bother playing the third year's game.

The Museum of Magical Artifacts was a regular haunt of Minerva's, but she didn't think Moriganne had ever graced the space since she'd been too young, and not important enough to be invited previously; nor would she have chosen to attend the museum on a normal day and mix with the commoners. Two sets of grand steps swept up to the second floor, while an archway led into the central space, which had been transformed for the evening's yearly charity event. She passed a glass case that held a nicked and weathered sword from Alaric the Barbarian of Roman times that had been enchanted by a witch woman of the Germanic forests. The weapon had drawn a small group of admirers, but it was the musical instrument room in the west wing that Minerva had loved best. She sighed internally, knowing she wouldn't even get close to exploring the museum. This visit wasn't a sightseeing affair, but an important step to establishing herself in the Charmer family.

The grand ballroom had tables spread across the space and a stage near the front that had equipment for a jazz band. Seat assignments meant she'd be forced to smile and nod with Blake and the other hall students that had been allowed attendance. But the pre-dinner social was meant for mixing: earning and spending the social coin that the elites used to keep track of their positions.

Her father, Victor Charmer, had arrived early, which was the time reserved for the lesser stations, but at his level within high society, arrival times were irrelevant. He was speaking to a small circle of men and women, professors from the Hundred Halls, who hung on his every word, laughing and smiling. His stark white hair and goatee made him quite handsome in a tuxedo.

He wasn't the only other Charmer in attendance, as Ares was there, wearing the headdress of a pharaoh and a white kilt, with hieroglyphs painted on his sculpted chest. The eldest sibling had acquired an audience of fellow members of Chroma and Key, which was the secret society he was the current head of. As a fifth-year Coterie of Mages student, he'd made a name for himself, and would be seated with the other older invitees, rather than the students. His star was rising.

But it was her mother, Monique Laurent-Rodriguez, that Moriganne meant to ingratiate herself with. As one of the organizers of the event, Monique held court near the stage, dressed in an elegant black number that showed off her fit and magically sculpted sixty-six-year-old body. The woman looked half her age. Jet-black hair. Bronze skin. She should have been wearing the Cleopatra outfit.

Moriganne sucked in her gut and put on the mask of resigned amusement that was expected at these functions as she strode to her mother, who was speaking to a handsome older gentleman in a tuxedo. When she was spotted, her mother held up a finger to her companion and turned to greet her.

Monique. You look fabulous, said Moriganne, leaning in to lightly brush her lips against her cheek, receiving the same.

Moriganne. You look like you were born to be Cleopatra. Ready to take down an empire? asked Monique, raising a meticulously drawn eyebrow.

Before her mother could offer introductions, Moriganne turned to the older gentleman and held out her hand. Lovely to meet you. I'm Moriganne, Monique's only slightly younger sister.

The gentleman chuckled heartily, eyes twinkling with mirth. He accepted her hand with a firm shake, which surprised Moriganne, as she was used to men like him reaching in for an awkward grope or a sweaty kiss to the back of the hand.

I know who you are, said the man. Moriganne Charmer. Second-year Stone Singer hall. The pride of St. Jude's Prep. Usually you have to be away from a school for a few years to have a room named after you.

It's not that big of a deal. I raised the most money for their yearly charity event.

"Ten times what any other student had ever raised, said her mother, beaming. Not a small feat."

Moriganne smiled demurely as she retracted her hand. You have me at a disadvantage, she said, hoping that her prep with Andromeda during the summer hadn't missed this gentleman.

Monique put a hand on her bare shoulder. Standing in her mother's presence was a lesser version of when she'd met Celesse. The weave of sorcery and spells created a magnetic pull. Moriganne had to fight to pay attention to the introduction.

This is Silas Abilene. He heads the Marion Abilene Children's Research Hospital, one of the groups that this event will be benefiting, said Monique. We're old friends though I haven't seen him in years. Silas has been hiding out in the hinterlands of the Midwest.

Running a business is more like it, he said with a heavy sigh. We've opened three more research hospitals in the last decade, saving countless lives.

They specialize in kids who've been affected by supernaturals, said Monique, reaching out and squeezing his forearm. Really tragic stuff. Heartbreaking. Silas is a hero.

Silas widened his eyes, adding a slight roll. I'm definitely not the hero. I'm an above-average businessman without a lick of magical ability who got lucky in the stock market years ago. I'm just trying to pay back my karmic debt. He winked at Moriganne. The doctors and mages who work on staff are the real heroes.

I'll make sure my dad writes a big check, said Moriganne.

Speaking of heroes, said Monique as a young woman approached in a wheelchair that was decked out like a chariot, this is Eloise Lake, fifth-year Aura Healer, future all-star of the hospital circuit.

Thanks for the hype, Monique, but I think I'd better accomplish something before you get all gooey on me, said Eloise in a Midwestern accent, chuckling as she reached out her hand over the front of the chariot. Hi, Moriganne. Nice to meet you. Killer Cleopatra outfit.

Eloise had a bob of black hair, pink cheeks, and a blanket over her legs. Moriganne accepted her hand. Love the chariot. You look ready for battle.

Thank you. Eloise turned to Silas and held out a fist. Hey, old man. How's South Side faring?

I haven't been to the Chicago unit in years, said Silas, bumping his knuckles against hers. But I'm sure not much has changed since you terrorized the place.

Eloise laughed, a rich warm tone that had Moriganne smiling even though she didn't know the details.

Guilty, said Eloise, holding up her hands as if she were being arrested.

Eloise came through the hospital, said Silas, clearly meaning as a patient. She's one of our brightest success stories, and now she's going to become a world-famous healer and hopefully work at Abilene. He added a wink.

I've got years of residency ahead before I think about post-schooling, said Eloise with a sly smile. And then let me see what your benefit package is first.

Silas' gaze roved across them. I sense that I'm out of my league, ladies. I'm sure you have hall business to discuss and I have other donors to court. He pointed to Moriganne. I'll hold you to that promise with your father.

I'm good for it, said Moriganne as he slipped away, immediately targeting a new cluster as he waved and called out a greeting. Sweet man.

The nicest, said Monique. Shame he's a null. He works his hospitals like he's expecting them to find a cure for old age. He's poured every dime he earned into them.

I wouldn't be here if it weren't for him. Eloise rotated her chariot with a deft spin of the wheels. How was your first year at Stone Singers?

There was an adjustment period, but I think I'm finding my way, said Moriganne, wondering how Eloise knew of her.

Monique made a derisive noise in the back of her throat that Moriganne first thought was meant for her until she saw the glance over her shoulder.

I think you have an imitation Cleopatra over there, said Monique.

The three of them turned to view the middle-aged woman wearing a white shift with an appropriate headdress. It was clearly tailored and expensive, but paled in comparison to the outfit Moriganne was wearing.

Maybe she's one of your body doubles, you know, in case there are assassins here ready to kill you, said Eloise.

"Don’t worry, darling, you're so fade," said Monique.

Is that your newest dye test? asked Moriganne. Or are you still trying it out?

It feels good, said Monique with an air of self-importance. Don't you think?

Eloise glanced between them, so Moriganne explained what Andromeda had told her only a week before.

She likes to put new slang out there as a test of her influence. You know, like putting dye into something to see where the water goes.

Eloise leaned back. Seriously?

I'm in the business of influence, but if I'm not changing anyone's mind then I'm doing a terrible job. It gives me a simple way to test which groups are listening to me and which I need to work on. Last year's dye test was 'flare.'

That's crazy. I said that all the time, said Eloise, then glanced to her right. Hey, I have to go talk to someone. It was great meeting you, Moriganne. Maybe we'll be seeing each other again soon.

I hope so.

The way Eloise ended their conversation had Moriganne hunching her forehead.

I wanted you to meet her, said Monique, lifting her chin regally.

She's Snake and Tome?

Current head, said Monique. If she agrees to your invite, there will be no other discussion.

Imagining the look on Blake's face made the corners of her lips tug upward. Does this mean...?

Not yet. There's something I want you to do for me.

No charity for your favorite daughter?

A brief flattening of the lips was the only acknowledgement that the comment had been received. Moriganne had been serious, but her mother had taken it for a lark.

Monique's fingers moved covertly. A privacy charm. Other attendees could see them, but no sound would leave their bubble.

Your father is losing his touch, said Monique.

The Celesse business.

Monique frowned. He would have never let that get past him before, and he would have punished her for even attempting it, but look at him, sucking up to her like a schoolboy trying to get a hand job from his teacher.

The knot of her father and the professors had been joined by the head of Alchemists. The statuesque blonde was the sun that the others had rotated towards.

If it weren't for you and your brother, he'd be knife fighting for hind teat, said Monique, her anger like a bit in the teeth.

What are you suggesting?

Monique smiled generously. Some of the industrial investors are clamoring for new leadership. Your father is old, and despite all his wealth and power, he won't live forever. Being a null is a major distraction at his age, and frankly, since we're no longer a partnership, the company is suffering.

The description of their marriage as a partnership, no romantic allusions implied, said a lot about how the family viewed itself.

Would that new leadership be you?

Monique held a hand to her chest. Think of the positives. I was always the real brains behind the operation. I have a long life ahead of me, and with a family full of magical children, all well placed in the right halls and societies, we can collectively steer the company and the halls themselves wherever we deem necessary. Without Invictus around, real leadership is needed. The patrons don't have the balls to grab the horns, so why not us?

In any other circumstances it would have sounded audacious, but for the Charmer family, it was fact.

You want my support in exchange for the invite, said Moriganne.

"Why give him an advantage for nothing?" said Monique, coldly, nostrils flaring.

What about giving your daughter an advantage?

Monique stared back. You toil on his behalf.

She checked back to her father. With everything she knew about Victor, which was probably only the tip of the iceberg, going against him seemed dangerous. Monique was making a play, but from the outside. She knew Andromeda wouldn't agree with their mother. Victor was the real power, even as a null and at his advanced age.

What happens if you fail? I'm screwed, said Moriganne. And it's not like I have a full voting share.

If some of his children turn against him it'll be a signal for the investors. They're watching to see how solid his position is. Change like this is all about momentum, and nothing is certain, said Monique, eyes intent, but if you join with me, we'll have a better shot. Besides, he'll punish you for not getting into Snake and Tome.

Screwed either way.

When we win, you'll come out on top, make up for the ground you lost to Ares, said Monique.

Your son.

It came out harshly, but the comment didn’t faze her mother as she thought it should.

We all know that you're the best of my children, said Monique.

The decision made her dress and jewelry double their weight. The rage inside was tempered by her surroundings. Moriganne wanted to march outside for a breath of fresh air, but there was no escaping the museum. If she'd had a phone on her, she might have called Andromeda for advice.

I can't, said Moriganne, knowing in her gut it was the right choice. You're asking too much. Can't you do this because you're my mother?

Monique raised an eyebrow. "You certainly didn't take my side in the divorce. Everyone cozied up to him because he greased your palms. Why shouldn't I assert my influence with my own children?"

I can't. It'd be suicide.

It'll be suicide to attach yourself to a man who isn't well and who can't live forever. If he didn't have his wealth, he'd be dead already with his health problems, said Monique, inhaling sharply through her nose. Whichever one of your brothers and sisters come over first, I will reward handsomely. The latecomers will only get the scraps.

The best that Moriganne could do was smile. Even though it wasn't really her mother, contempt was a brand of steaming ice against her chest.

Monique softened her expression. But because you're my daughter, I will give you a chance to change your mind. Final choices for invites won't be for another month, but once that decision is made, there's nothing more I can do. And since your siblings have joined the other societies, I know that you have one and only one choice. She leaned in close and gave her a peck on the cheek. Love you, Mori. I need to mingle.

The ache went bone deep. If she couldn't get into Snake and Tome then she was in trouble with Victor. She'd promised Andromeda and the real Moriganne that she would help them. Hell, she'd promised herself. No more getting walked over by the Ians and Dwights of the world, and if anyone was emblematic of that, it was Victor Charmer.

To compose herself, Moriganne headed to the side of the stage, feigning adjusting her pearl-inlaid belt. She needed air, but a quiet moment by herself would have to do. Moriganne inhaled deeply, practicing the amused indifference that was her mask. It worked until the band headed out of a nearby door, and second in line, holding a cherry red Languedoc guitar, was a familiar face. She didn't even realize her jaw had dropped until the band members looked up, squinting in confusion.

It was Darian. The lead guitarist of her old band.

Chapter Two

His appearance caught her by surprise. She slammed her lips closed, but it was too late, he'd spotted her confusion. Darian slowed, approached with his head tilted. He had a kind soul, beautiful brown eyes, and a touch of gray in his closely shorn hair.

Are you okay, miss?

Miss. She was nearly forty years his junior, but the differences in class were as wide as the ocean. The last time she'd seen him was at her funeral. Emotions welled up, collecting in her throat and making speaking difficult. The other band members floated by, leaving the two of them alone.

She blurted out the first thing on her mind. You used to be in Minnie and the Moves.

He blinked, his head shifting back in surprise. Wouldn't have guessed you for a fan. He glanced over her shoulder into the increasingly crowded ballroom.

Sorry to bother you. I guess I just recognized you and couldn't remember where at first. She paused. Have a great show.

Moriganne turned away, catching in a sideways glance that Victor had witnessed the entire encounter. Her whole body went numb. She headed for the bar, mind whirling with concerns. While she waited for the charity's special drink, a karkade martini, she picked at her fingernail absently. Straight out of the conversation with Monique, she'd been caught off guard by Darian's appearance.

As the bartender handed her the cranberry colored drink, she found Victor standing behind her, red-rimmed eyes creased at the corners.

That musician wasn't bothering you, was he? asked Victor flatly.

Jazz music softly began. Moriganne refocused her attention away from the song and onto her father.

No. Everything's fine.

It didn't look like it. I know who he is.

I guess an old memory surfaced. Caught me off guard. She smiled, placing her hand on his forearm. It's good.

He nodded. And Monique?

Catching up. She's Snake and Tome alumni, after all.

His gaze narrowed. A snake is apt for her. Don't let her bamboozle you. She thinks she has influence in this town. She doesn't have shit. He patted her on the arm. That being said, I assume you've got your invite locked up? Can't have my favorite daughter without a knife to fight with. If I would have been in a secret society, it would have been Snake and Tome. Probably would have taught them a thing or two.

You would have killed it, Vic. Don't worry about Monique. She's just being her.

He raised his eyebrows. That's what I'm worried about. But we're good, right?

We're good. She nodded.

Good, he said, real slow. Now be a good girl and go get that invite. It's critical.

He walked off, leaving Moriganne by herself. She downed half the drink before remembering she needed her wits. The dinner would be starting soon,