The library was full of hushed voices, washing over each other to sound like the swashing of the waves down at the harbour. The book Edgar had open was far slimmer than the dusty, leather-bound tomes about demons and myths that lined the walls, right up to the high, arching ceiling, and it was far newer, too, with crisp white pages as unblemished as freshly falling snow. Whilst Emmy was rifling through week-old humdrum newspapers by a set of shelves two aisles away, he was meant to be comparing the note – flattened in front of him with Joy's A Clash of Kings and Emmy's Advanced Demonologie so he could read it – with Poe's poetry, but the work was so dull he was practically falling asleep. He glanced over at the stained glass window – built in a Tudor style, it showed the Ephemeral Chalice in a mosaic of reds and gold – and sighed. This was Lee's job, but of course, he and Noah were off in P.T...

Someone dumped a black Arrow bag on the carefully carved wooden desk beside him with a thud, and he jumped, wheeling around to see who it was. Joy had a sheath of notes in her hands, which she opened up as she sank into the chair beside Edgar. "He would not shut up," she said, pulling out pieces of parchment that matched Edgar's note and placing them on the table. "He kept going on about this old legend thing about killing fairies and demonhunters and the Chalice and who even knows. Anyway, it turns out it's actually Lesley who's conducting the investigation."

"What's new with that?" said Edgar, raising an eyebrow. "Marcus is always taking credit for things. I told you, he's an idiot."

Joy sniggered, but she bit her lip, trying to regain a straight face. "Yeah, yeah. But in short, yeah, there were more notes. And I gave these a quick read on the way over – all the victims were fey. And there are a few references to an old demonhunter society that seem so racist it's untrue. Emmy might know a bit more – where's she gone?"

Edgar was glancing between the parchment notes and his page, frowning. He started to reorganise the pieces of parchment. "Over that way." He gestured in Emmy's general direction, and Joy wandered off amongst the bookshelves. His face burst into a grin, and he glanced over in the girls' direction. They were out of sight. "I've got it!" he called softly, getting to his feet – the chair scraped against the wooden floorboards – and hurrying over. Emmy had an armful of newspapers, and Joy had the first page of the records out. They shared a bewildered look for a moment, and then Emmy grinned.

"Awesome. Let's see." Edgar waved them back towards the table, and he pointed at his handiwork. Emmy set the newspapers down with a soft thump – the pieces of parchment threatened to blow out of place – and she leant over the poetry book, pushing her glasses up her nose. Joy sat down in the chair opposite, leaning back so it was on its back legs, her eyes scanning the dense text. Emmy started to read under her breath.

"Ah, I distinctly remember it was in the bleak December;

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

Eagerly I wished the morrow; – vainly I had sought to borrow

From my books surcease of sorrow – sorrow for the lost Lenore –

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore –

Nameless here for evermore..."

She glanced up at Edgar, looking confused. "Okay, so we've got the poem. But that has less to do with killing fairies than I'd hoped. What on Earth could it mean?" She turned to Joy, who set the notes down, looking equally confused. "Obviously it means something to the killer, but..." She shook her head, her ponytail brushing her shoulders.

Joy pulled a particular piece of paper out of the thin paper folder. "For what it's worth, Lesley has noted the similarities between these killings and those Valentine Hesperchild committed in New York ages ago. Remember, we did it in M&L? He went around killing paranormals, and they were drained of blood and killed by demonhunters." She pointed to a particular line in Lesley's notes – Emmy and Edgar leant forward, their shoulders brushing.

The fact that rogue demonhunters appear to be connected to these killings, as evidenced by the use of the seraph blade to kill every victim, suggests that there may be a connection with the activities of Valentine Hesperchild. It is my opinion that this is an attempt to raise the Sphere, and a grossly macabre one at that.

"The Sphere?" said Edgar, leaning back in his chair like Joy and furrowing his brow. "As in the lot who wanted demonhunter supremacy? That was years ago, wasn't it? But then I s'pose there are still humdrums who are for the whole neo-Nazi thing, aren't there?"

Emmy nodded. "We've got to tell the others. Reckon we can pull them out of P.T.?" They all shared a glance – there was no hope of getting Lee and Noah out of the clutches of Appleweather, the P.T. instructor. "Let's just tell 'em at lunch, then," she said with a sigh. "Joy, let's match up some dates and stuff – there's got to be something in these newspapers." She patted the large pile beside her, looking less than thrilled. Joy pulled a notebook out of her bag, flipping past pages covered in scrawls and sketches and poetry to a fresh, blank page only marred by the printed lines. The two girls turned to Edgar.

He raised a sarcastic eyebrow. "What? I've done my job. I was going to head off to the music rooms..." He raised his other eyebrow at Emmy's harsh gaze. "What? You two are busy."

Emmy just stared at him. "How about you get some books on the Sphere for us?" she said as she opened the first newspaper up – dated the Monday before, the headline shouted at them all in block caps below a gaudy red banner: BRIT PAEDO KEEPS CHILDREN IN GREEK VILLA PAID FOR BY BENEFITS. Edgar rolled his eyes, and he obligingly got to his feet. What was a two-minute detour, after all?

He sidled off between the bookcases to the very back of the library, in the little corner where the Sphere books were hidden – they'd found them all back in Fourth Year, but none of them had ever even taken them off the shelf, let alone opened one of them. Kneeling down in front of them, he started to yank the largest volume – The Sphere: Defying the Synod – out of the bookcase. A familiar voice filtered through from the next row of shelves, and he froze, sharpening his focus.

"...I heard that the fey had the Chalice," Giles was drawling. "Which is why they deserve all those killings the Demonologie department are investigating. Honestly, keeping things from demonhunters...there should be laws allowing us to use Verity's Blade on them. Nothing more than glorified insects..." His footsteps carried on along the row of bookshelves, and Edgar yanked the book from the case. Of course – Giles, hater of all other paranormals, who would just love to frame the fairies for something as serious as the theft of the Chalice; Giles, who had been in London...

"Eavesdropping, are we, Kelpheart?"

Edgar jumped, pushing himself to his feet with the book in hand. He found himself face to face – well, rather face to chest – with Giles himself. He took a hasty step back; Giles must have heard him wrestling with the bookshelf, and come to look for the source of the noise. "It's not good form to eavesdrop, is it?" Giles' eyes were narrowed, but he didn't seem otherwise bothered. Edgar raised an eyebrow, but Giles had noticed the book in his hand. "Oh, tut, tut, Kelpheart. The Sphere? Even I wouldn't read too far into their philosophies. Too much fraternisation with demons, if you ask me –"

"Oh, pull your head out of your arse," snapped Edgar, and he dodged around Giles. "Not everybody waits with bated breath for your opinion, and certainly not everybody worships the ground you walk on." He strode off down the row of bookshelves, leaving Giles shrugging lightly and heading off in the opposite direction. He dumped the book on Emmy and Joy's desk with a thunk – the girls looked up, and Emmy raised her eyebrows in an unimpressed sort of way. "Giles is in here," he muttered darkly, and their looks of confusion melted into understanding before he stalked off towards the ornately carved wooden doors, three Gileses tall, that marked the library's entrance.