Hex Crimes

by Dorie, Sarina

  I stared at him in shock. “Elric said he’d let you go after the jorogumo venom wore off.”

  “He did let me go, but not after the venom wore off. He released me after he’d dosed me three more times with venom and he tired of . . . toying with me.” His face flushed pink, and each word dripped out like poison. “Do you have any idea what it is like being intoxicated with jorogumo venom? To be exposed to a powerful aphrodisiac like that and chained up without any antidote or opportunity for sexual release is enough to drive one mad. Once is torment enough, but four . . . times. . . .”

  A chill crept over me. Elric hadn’t told me he’d done that. He had promised me he would release Thatch as soon as I’d left. I had been too angry with Elric to want to stay, and too angry with Thatch to care about his fate at the time.

  Only now did I consider how my anger toward them both had resulted in such unnecessary cruelty. Unless Thatch was just making this up to try to get me to feel greater sympathy toward him. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d told me a tall tale.

  I lifted my chin. “I’m sorry if I neglected you and put you in harm’s way.” If I had, I was sorry. But I doubted I had.

  For one thing, he didn’t look like he’d suffered a whole lot. His hair was still perfect. He looked unscathed by the incident. He was as snooty and overbearing as ever.

  With visible effort, Thatch forced himself to calm. He waved a hand down the stairs. “If you would accompany me to the dungeon.”

  I continued down the stairs to the main level. “I don’t want to be alone with you. I’m not going to let you use my magic against me ever again.”

  Thatch clenched his fists at his sides, the only sign of his anger. “You will accompany me to the dungeon so we can speak in private. If you do not, I will hex your feet into walking there.”

  Loathing boiled inside me. I was about to shout what I would do to him if he took away my free will.

  Khaba’s cool voice came from the stairs below. “There will be no hexing of anyone on my watch.”

  He marched up the stairs, glaring daggers at Thatch.

  Thatch cleared his throat. “Miss Lawrence is being stubborn. She needs a healing tonic, and she refuses.”

  That jerk. He was always trying to spin things to his advantage.

  I held myself taller. “No. I refuse to go down to the dungeon and be alone with you.”

  Khaba looked from me to Thatch. “Leave the tonic in my box. I’ll make sure it gets to Miss Lawrence, and she drinks it . . . if it’s in her best interest.” His distrust of Thatch’s intentions were evident from those words.

  Thatch’s voice remained a cool monotone. “Very well, then. I shall put a note in your box with the tonic and instructions.” He turned away and stormed off in the other direction.

  If only that was the last of Felix Thatch.

  Khaba turned to me. “Do you mind telling me what that was about?”

  Even in the privacy of Khaba’s office, my hand still shook from a combination of pent-up anger and adrenaline. If only I could tell Khaba all that had happened in his absence at the school, but that would require him understanding my affinity and the heartache it had caused me.

  He set a cup of lavender-and-chamomile tea in front of me and placed his choice of drink, Bombay Sapphire gin, next to mine. It had been trained into me to test all food with a spell for poisons and curses. I couldn’t do that if I was feigning a lack in magic. Khaba was my friend and coworker. I had known him long enough to trust him, but I hesitated before taking a sip.

  Khaba scooted his wooden chair beside mine. “Why was Felix Thatch really threatening you?”

  “He wasn’t threatening me.” I couldn’t meet his dark brown eyes. The concern was too much. The only thing worse than a cruel Fae who wanted to use my affinity against me was a kind Fae friend who tempted me to tell him everything.

  “Hexing someone’s feet without their consent is illegal. I’m going to write up a formal reprimand and—”

  “Please don’t. I’m sure he wasn’t really going to do that.” I wasn’t actually certain, but I didn’t want to draw more attention to Thatch or me.

  Khaba eyed me skeptically. “I don’t trust him. I never have. I tried to make it a condition of my rehiring that Jeb would fire Felix Thatch, but he wouldn’t hear of it. The principal thinks my accusations are unjust. I have no evidence that he’s a deceitful, murderous spy. If you know something I don’t, you should share it with me.”

  I knew exactly what this was about. “Thatch doesn’t work for the Raven Court, and he didn’t kill Brogan. It was Derrick.”

  Khaba’s lips pressed into a line. “I wasn’t talking about . . . Brogan. I was talking about you.” He slouched into his chair. The pain of his lover’s death weighed on his frame.

  I rubbed Khaba’s shoulder, trying to console him. I wondered where his lamp tattoo had wandered on his body and if he needed for someone to make his wishes come true.

  He lifted his glass from the table, but he didn’t drink it. “You don’t know Derrick killed Brogan. He didn’t tell you that. Thatch did.”

  “The marks on Sebastian Reade matched the ones on Brogan. They matched the ones on me. When the Raven Queen captured Derrick, she taught him how to drain people. I saw it in his dreams.”

  “Who else worked for the Raven Queen? Who else might have learned how to kill from her?” Khaba asked. “Derrick didn’t tell you he drained anyone. He wouldn’t have killed Brogan. He’d met him. They were friends. If I could find Derrick, I would ask him, and he would tell us it wasn’t him. It was Thatch.”

  Prince Elric of the Silver Court had said he’d “taken care of Derrick.” He’d promised me he hadn’t imprisoned him, and that Derrick was somewhere far away. I didn’t know if it was true—I didn’t believe anything Elric said after he’d lied to me about so many things—but if Elric had hidden Derrick, it would make sense why Khaba couldn’t find him. I could have asked Elric to reveal Derrick’s whereabouts to Khaba and given him the solace he needed, but I didn’t know if it would help Khaba. Nor did I wish to owe Elric another boon for the favor—or worse yet—to put one of my friends in Elric’s debt.

  I touched the green stones of the amulet around my neck, a reminder of bargains I’d made in the past. Wearing it was a like a noose of impending doom. Try as I might, I couldn’t take it off. Magic hadn’t removed it either.

  “If I could find Derrick, he could clarify everything for us. I would help return his heart, and you could be reunited with him,” Khaba said.

  I remembered how sweet Derrick had always been, whether it had been him teaching me to juggle and feeding me the last bite of his bacon when I’d been fifteen, or the way he’d tried to show me he wasn’t going to take advantage of me physically just because my affinity turned me into a drooling idiot, willing to do anything for touch. He had loved me once. I didn’t think it had only been my affinity that made us love each other.

  “Would you be able to cure Derrick?” I asked.

  Khaba bit his lip. “I could.” There was hesitation in his voice.

  Elric had said what the Raven Queen had done to him was impossible to remedy. Doubt tainted each promise Elric had made and every statement he had uttered. I didn’t know whether anything he’d told me about Derrick was true or he’d said it to persuade me to love him.

  Khaba was a free djinn. His powers were limitless. Even if Elric had been speaking the truth, it didn’t mean a being more powerful than himself couldn’t have cured Derrick.

  “If I rubbed your lamp, would you grant me a wish?” I asked.

  “When you freed me, it destroyed my lamp. I can’t grant wishes like I used to. In order to rein myself in and control the turbulence inside me, I have to sacrifice a great deal of magic.” He closed his eyes, the crinkle in his forehead speaking of his anguish. “I’m free of the lamp, but my magic isn’t much stronger than a sasquatch’s. Pinky’s wards are better than mine these day
s.”

  I stared at him in shock. I knew he’d needed to control his magic somehow, but he hadn’t shared the details with me until now.

  Khaba held himself taller. “If I relinquished control of my magic, I’m certain I could find Derrick. I would be strong enough to save him.” One side of his mouth lifted into a sardonic smile. “The problem is, I don’t know if I would want to. I’m a different person when I’m under the influence of that much magic. It’s not an unusual symptom. Alouette Loraline lost her humanity when she grew too powerful.”

  I suspected I’d had a taste for what too much magic did as well. Each time I’d been overwhelmed by magic, I’d savored the intensity of it, wanting more. I could see how my biological mother would have succumbed to that temptation.

  A plan to save Derrick was pointless. Perhaps it had always been.

  “I don’t want to see Derrick again,” I said honestly. “I want to let go of him and move on.”

  The magic around Khaba crackled. “And I suppose you think I should do the same? I should move on. Date other men. Forgive and forget.”

  I drew my hand back from him, his magic intense to the point of being uncomfortable. It was like a shield shoving me back.

  “I’m not telling you to do anything,” I said. “I’d be a hypocrite if I did. I can’t even give myself love advice that I can follow.”

  “Do you know why I accepted Jeb’s offer to come back?” Khaba asked.

  I forced a smile. “Because you love working with at-risk Witchkin youth and want to make the world a better place.”

  He frowned. “Besides that.”

  I shrugged, not knowing what else there was.

  “Revenge.” His expression darkened. “I will expose Felix Thatch for being the scoundrel he is. I will humiliate him and destroy everything he loves and ensure the entire world knows of his treachery. I don’t need magic to prove what a worm he is. All I need are facts.”

  Thatch was many things, but he wasn’t the tyrant Khaba thought he was. He didn’t work for the Raven Queen, nor had he killed the man Khaba had loved.

  Now I knew I had to tell Khaba why Thatch had threatened to hex me. Or at least enough of it to clarify our relationship—or lack of. “Can I tell you a secret? Something you won’t repeat? I don’t want everyone else to know.”

  “Is it against school rules?”

  Here he was being a stickler for rules again. Those Fae and their contracts. Technically, Thatch hadn’t broken any school rules. He hadn’t been dating a subordinate, nor had I truly been employed at the school during summer vacation. Jeb had even known about Thatch’s contract, though he might not have been aware of all the details.

  “You know I was dating Elric?” I asked.

  He smirked. “Josie may have informed me.”

  Ah yes. Josie knew everything about everyone.

  “I didn’t tell her all the reasons why I broke up with him.” I fidgeted with my striped leggings.

  “It wasn’t because he was already married and he lied to you? It didn’t have anything to do with his mercurial Fae nature, how out of touch he is with humanity, and the way he treats people? Once your bargain was complete, I imagine you were out of there faster than a djinn breaking free from his enslavement.”

  It appeared Josie had informed him of quite a few details. “Um. . . . Okay, there was that. But part of it had to do with Thatch. Elric and Thatch made a bargain that they neglected to tell me about. If Thatch could make me fall in love with him, but remain indifferent to feelings of love himself, he would free me from my contract to fall in love with Elric.” I tried to swallow the lump forming in my throat, but the hurt of what he’d done still remained. It was bad enough all the times he had rejected me, but to let me believe he loved me. “I wasn’t able to prove to the Silver Court that I loved Elric, so Elric had to use his backup plan.”

  There were many things I didn’t like about Elric, but the fact that he had agreed to this bargain with Thatch told me Elric must have cared about me. If he couldn’t prove I loved him, he’d been willing to let Thatch humiliate him in front of his family and the entire Silver Court to ensure my freedom. It made me despise him a little less.

  Khaba’s brow crinkled up. “No. You couldn’t have fallen in love with Thatch. After the way he lied to us about Derrick? Hon, I need details.”

  “He risked his soul to ensure my freedom.” Tears filled my eyes. “I wanted to believe that meant he might love me. But he proved to the Fae he didn’t. He tried to drain me.” I left out the bit about the pain magic and my affinity. This was enough information for him to get the picture.

  Thatch had saved my soul. I appreciated that. I just hated he was incapable of feeling remorse for how he’d done so. I hated that he’d promised he would never use my affinity against me and he had. He’d known I was attracted to him and made me fall in love with him. More than anything, I despised myself for allowing myself to love a man incapable of loving me in return.

  The expression on my face must have given away my self-loathing. The prickle of magic around Khaba softened.

  “Oh honey. Come here.” He stood and drew me into his arms.

  “That’s probably why Thatch wanted me to come to the dungeon. I haven’t spoken with him since the ball. I can’t stand to look at him.” Tears filled my eyes, but I told myself I wouldn’t cry. I was done feeling sorry for myself. I was over Felix Thatch. “And that’s why I didn’t want to go with him.” Part of it anyway. Khaba didn’t need to know about my affinity lessons and my difficulty deciphering the difference between reality and what my subconscious dreamed up. He didn’t need to know about Elric accusing Thatch of molesting me—I still didn’t know whether it was true—nor was it wise to explain how Thatch had used my affinity to make me want him.

  Khaba hugged me to his chest, stroking my hair and rubbing my shoulders as if I were a kid sister he wanted to console.

  “If you want me to give up my plan to wait until the right moment to humiliate and ruin Felix Thatch, I will,” Khaba said. “If you need me to go down to the dungeon, I’ll let myself explode into a berserker djinn rage and murder him for you. No questions asked.”

  I laughed and shook my head. He didn’t laugh. I suspected he was being serious.

  He kissed the top of my head. His fingers kneaded into my muscles. He sighed. “This is nice. It’s been a long time since I’ve hugged anyone.”

  Khaba and I both had experienced love and loss. We both had suffered from people touching us in order to try to make their wishes come true. I only wished I could tell him that.

  The contentment his consoling touch brought me shifted to something else. The slow swell of my affinity slipped by unnoticed until the throbbing in my pelvis started up. My magic stretched into my limbs, reaching out hungrily. Khaba hugged me tighter. When I lifted my chin to stare up into his eyes, I recognized the desire painted across his face.

  My affinity was at work. Once again it had betrayed me. I jerked back before we both did something we regretted.

  Khaba blinked and shook himself, his brow crinkling in confusion.

  “I think I should be going,” I said.

  If only Khaba was the kind of genie who could still grant wishes. It would have been obvious what my wish would have been. I wanted to be released from the imprisonment of my own magic. The elixir Thatch had made me to temporarily free me from the clouded judgment brought on by my own magic had been fleeting.

  All my life I’d wanted magic. Now I realized the true cost. I would have given anything to be normal. Even when I’d been drained, I couldn’t get rid of the effects of my affinity. I would never be able to love again. I couldn’t trust anyone, not even my friends. I couldn’t trust myself.

  How would I survive?

  CHAPTER FOUR

  All in a Day’s Spell Work

  Pro Ro approached me in my classroom during fourth period on Monday, tugging on his thick beard nervously. Maybe h
e was afraid I would tear off his turban again as I had my first year of teaching at Womby’s. He’d never entered my classroom voluntarily before. I knew something had to be up with him.

  I smiled. “Anything I can help you with?”

  He coughed. “Ahem, well, perhaps.”

  I was used to other teachers asking me—or in the case of Vega—commanding me, to make signs, posters, or props for them. Students looked up from their work, waving at him.

  “Is something wrong?” I asked.

  “No, nothing at all.” He set a leather-bound book on my desk. “I borrowed a book and wondered if you could return it for me.”

  That was an odd request. “To the library?”

  “No, ahem. The thing is. . . .” He lowered his voice. “It’s Mr. Thatch’s.”

  He backed away.

  “Okay. So why don’t you just return it?”

  His gaze darted to the students, the gesture nervous. “I can’t. I’m busy.”

  He tried to dart out the door, but I grabbed the book and raced after him. He might have been bigger, but I was faster. I caught up with him outside and grabbed his sleeve. “Why aren’t you returning the book to him yourself?”

  “He’s out recruiting.”

  “So?”

  “I, um. . . .” He straightened. “I’ll divine anything you want if you return the book on my behalf and put in a good word for me.”

  I flipped through the pages. I could see what the problem was. The paper was warped and stained. Some of the ink had bled.

  “Oh,” I said. No wonder he didn’t want to give it back.

  “I’ve seen how he looks at you. He won’t be angry with you if you . . . soften him up for me.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re friends, aren’t you?” He waggled his eyebrows.

  “No!” It sounded like he was implying special friends or friends with benefits. “We’re just coworkers. He isn’t even my friend.” Not anymore. “I’d rather poke myself in the eye than talk to him.”