“Come on,” Baz says. “I’ll show you to your room.” My room turns out to be the creepiest one yet: There’s a dragon painted on the archway around the door, and its face is charmed to glow and follow you in the dark. Plus there’s something under the bed. I don’t know exactly what, but it moans and clicks and makes the bedposts shake. I end up at Baz’s door, telling him I’m going back to Watford. “What?” He’s half asleep when he comes to the door. And flushed—he must have gone hunting after I went to bed. Or maybe they keep kennels for him on the grounds. “I’m leaving,” I say. “That room is
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