I wondered about the students unable to participate back at the school. It seemed like they had been majorly cheated this year. Only forty students participating felt unfair. The other students’ skills weren’t being acknowledged. It seemed like we should have had our regular festival, and this should have been a supplemental show later in the year.
Then again, the students who stayed back got a pizza party and ice cream to celebrate All Hallows’ Eve. There would still be dancing and music, though it would be less performance based.
After the Morris dancing there was acrobatics with music, showing off Amni Plandai magic with plant and animal transformations. A group of singers performed several songs, spell work of various tricks planted into the lyrics.
It was the Celestor magic that I was the most nervous about. Celestor dancers became the cosmos in their performance. I was afraid how Imani might react to others. Whether it was through luck, or Thatch had persuaded Coach Kutchi, Imani had a solo. She wouldn’t be touching anyone during the show.
Even so, I knew from personal experience nervous energy combined with one’s affinity sometimes resulted in unexpected consequences.
In rehearsal, students were supposed to use a fraction of the magic they intended to use in the actual show. Most of it was a walk-through. But Imani was incandescent as she danced, even without touching anyone.
I hoped she would be able to control herself. If she didn’t, it wouldn’t just be other students and teachers who saw what she was, it would be parents and Fae. I couldn’t help wondering if this was a set-up. If Imani was separated from the others, it would be obvious any display of magic came from her, not them. Witchkin would see she was a Red and shun her. Fae would want to use her if they understood her potential.
I excused myself from monitoring the students, leaving them with Josie. I didn’t know whom to talk to about my concern.
Actually, I did. There was only one person I could talk to about this. I found Thatch in the lobby, patrolling with the enthusiasm of Oscar the Grouch.
Thatch halted his pacing upon seeing me. “Why aren’t you with your group of students?”
“They’re backstage with Josie. I need to talk to you.” I glanced at Elric’s servants in their livery, standing around at intervals. “In private.”
“No.” Thatch stuck his nose up in the air. “I’m not putting myself in a position for people to talk about what I may have done to you while we were alone.”
“This is important.” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “How did Imani get a solo?”
“I should think from hard work and crafting her skill.” He nodded at a shabby-looking couple entering the auditorium, momentarily plastering a smile on his face as they made eye contact with him.
They looked like parents.
“You’re here three hours early,” one of the servants said. “Perhaps it would be best if you came back closer to the time of the show.”
“We came in from out of town. We’ll wait,” the woman said.
I leaned in closer to Thatch. “Did you recommend Imani for the solo? So she wouldn’t be touching others?” I wouldn’t worry half as much if he had. Then I would at least know she hadn’t been set up by someone else.
Thatch sighed in exasperation. “No, though her solo is the only reason I didn’t veto her from participating.” He deigned to look at me, even if it was only for a moment. “If you must know, I told Coach Kutchi that Imani Washington had other things to focus on this semester. I hardly thought dancing enough to merit her attention. But Jeb insisted the best performers were selected to showcase the school’s talent. There were three students he thought should have solos. Imani one of them. Melissa Huggins was another.”
Ah yes, Missy, the student who had puked earlier.
“Do you really think it’s a good idea for Imani to be dancing in front of all these . . . people?” I didn’t dare say the word “Fae.” A man and woman dressed in finery made from snake scales passed by. They were so beautiful it hurt to look at them.
“I don’t have time to pander to your worries. And neither do you. Go back to your post.” He stepped toward the couple. He bowed his head and used a placatingly polite tone, though he didn’t smile. “Pardon me, but the event isn’t starting for several more hours. May I help you find what you’re looking for?”
The man grinned so wide it revealed multiple rows of sharp teeth. “We won’t be able to stay for the event, but we wanted to have a look at the art show and auction.”
His skin looked as though it were made of gold. The woman openly stared at me.
I returned to the auditorium. Maybe Thatch was right. I was worrying for no reason. A solo was safe. He would be there in case anything went wrong. Only, I still couldn’t shake the feeling that something would go wrong this evening.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Fae Work in Mysterious Ways
As an amateur stage magician, I had been part of a few collaborative shows. Usually the show started late, people were panicking backstage, there was always some issue with the sound system or microphones—usually unrelated to me and my magic. Lots of minor catastrophes happened behind the scenes.
Vega, our backstage manager, assured us this wouldn’t be the case. She pointed to the group of students who had gathered behind the drawn curtain for a pep talk. “There will be no more puking or panicking from this point on. Am I clear?”
Students nodded.
“You are representing your school, your families, and your teams. If you misbehave backstage or play pranks, you will be reaffirming everything Fae think of you as a lowly, juvenile delinquent Witchkin. You will put your best effort into this show. You will smile and pretend you are enjoying yourselves. If you do not, I will make your life a living hell in detention every day until you graduate. Is that clear?”
No pressure.
Students stared at Vega with wide eyes.
“Am I clear?” she repeated more forcefully.
Students nodded. I found myself nodding along with them.
She started to turn away from the half circle of silent students, but turned back, a smile on her face. “Oh, and I nearly forgot. Have fun.”
I was assigned to the girls’ green room with Josie. Considering there were never more than ten girls in there at a time, it seemed like overkill to have two of us, but it was always different students. Josie escorted them through the back wing to the stage while I stayed in the green room. Many of the students were in multiple performances, and I was in charge of helping students with costume changes.
Imani was only in one performance. She dressed and then was done getting ready well before everyone else. She pulled her hair into a tight bun like a flamenco dancer and wore a red silk rose in her hair. I considered seeing if I could find a pink rose or a yellow one, but changing her costume might raise more questions than wearing a red flower would.
Other girls bustled around the green room, spending the majority of the time primping between sets. Imani probably would have been bored if she had been the kind of student who sat in the corner impatiently waiting for her turn.
Instead, she helped me clean up the mess vacating students made, folding or hanging discarded costumes, helping me set out the next set of costumes, and assisting students with their hair between sets. I could tell she wanted to help, and I didn’t want to isolate her from her peers or make her feel like a freak, but I also knew that the less she touched others the better it was for her. I tried to redirect her away from the Elementia she might accidentally bring a storm out of. Especially Missy who Vega had previously mentioned had a minor lightning affinity.
I ushered Imani to do other jobs rather than assisting an Amni Plandai tree nymph with her makeup.
There was no safe task for Imani to perform that didn’t involve interacting with her peers, which might draw out their magic. I wanted to remind her not to touch people, but I couldn’t do that while we were surrounded by students who c
ouldn’t learn of her secret.
As we drew closer to Imani’s performance, I finally found one viable excuse. “You’re going to be up pretty soon. Why don’t you go over to the corner and stretch? We don’t want you to get muscle cramps.”
She smiled and hugged me. “Miss Lawrence, you’re always looking out for me. I don’t know what I’d do without you!”
I patted her shoulder. Her words should have made me feel happy. Instead, guilt gnawed at my insides. I felt like I had failed her, but I didn’t know why. Nothing had happened.
Yet.
She stretched quietly in the corner.
Josie came in with a group of girls who had just finished singing. She sighed. “Whew! We’re almost halfway there. Imani Washington, you’re up next. Coach Kutchi wants you backstage ready to go on before the current performer is done.”
Imani leapt to her feet with the grace of a cat. “How does my hair look? Are there any lumps?”
“Are you nervous? You really have no reason to be nervous,” I said, my own anxiety percolating through my veins. “You’ll do great.”
Imani rushed over and hugged me. “Wish me luck, Miss Lawrence.” She ran off, Josie following.
“Good luck!” I said as they exited.
“Ugh! Miss L, that is so uncool,” Tiffany, one of the seniors, said. “You’re supposed to say break a leg. Wishing someone good luck is bad luck.”
Oh no! She was right. I had forgotten about that. I tried to wave off the worry. “That’s just a superstition.”
Or was it? Everything in the Unseen Realm was magic. Words carried power here. I wished more than ever I was in the wings watching Imani. If something went wrong, I wanted to know.
A couple of minutes later, Josie returned with students who had just finished. She called out the names of the next batch of students to go up.
“Hey, um, Josie,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Do you mind if I take this group of students? I want to watch Imani’s performance.”
Josie pursed her lips. “You don’t know where you’re supposed to wait.”
“In the wings where Jackie Frost is waiting for this group. Students practiced this earlier today.” My heart thudded harder in my chest as I tried to think of a plausible lie. “It would mean a lot to me if I could see this.”
Josie bit her lip. “Coach Kutchi doesn’t want you backstage. She’s afraid you’ll trip over a box and everyone will hear.”
“Please, I need to go see this.” I tried not to let the desperation leak into my voice.
“Okay, fine, but don’t do anything that will get me in trouble.”
I rushed toward the door, but Josie grabbed my arm. “Don’t forget the students.”
I escorted three girls to the wing.
Imani was in the middle of her performance, elegantly leaping across invisible platforms above the stage. She glowed, becoming more starlike as she danced. Her white ballet costume shifted in hue, reminding me of tie-dye as she glided around. Soon she became a vibrant light, glittering yellow and then silver and then violet. It looked like Celestor magic.
It was only when the colors transitioned to orange and blue and green that I started to worry. There was one color she hadn’t changed to yet. That was where the problems had begun the last time she’d danced at the All Hallows’ Eve Open House.
Just as I feared, Imani changed to red.
That in itself might not have caused alarm. It was just another color of the rainbow. The more significant detail was that the stars around her shifted to red. She glowed brighter. The air tasted like cherries and fire, hot lava, and piano music. My senses grew confused. I could only picture red things like red cardinals, the burning hues of a sunset, and the ripe red raspberries of summer.
It wasn’t so much that Imani had shifted to a red star, but the red glow encompassed the stage. Her light penetrated the curtains, a subtle vibration that soaked into my bones. I felt my own magic stirring in response, wanting to rise out of me. But it wasn’t just me. The three girls behind me who waited for their turn brimmed with plant magic.
Unwittingly, Imani was using her passive magic to draw out the magic of others.
I couldn’t see Jackie Frost in the shadows of the wing, but I felt her Elementia nature rise with cold. The entire auditorium grew to an unbearable stench of magic, too many perfumes dizzying my senses.
Imani was doing what Reds were meant to do; she was increasing the magic of others around her. Her secret would be revealed—if people hadn’t figured it out already. I needed to stop her, but I didn’t know what to do.
I turned to one of the girls. “How do I close the curtain?”
She stared in wonder at Imani, her eyes drunk with magic. “Huh?”
I repeated myself. She shook her head.
I needed Imani to stop. Where was Thatch? Why wasn’t he doing anything?
Imani landed on the stage again, still glowing. I waved my arms at her, trying to get her attention, but she didn’t see me. She burned like a flame as she danced. Fortunately, she didn’t catch the stage on fire.
I needed to get her off the stage, pronto. I rushed forward, but Coach Kutchi caught my arm. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Imani,” I said, waving my hand at my student. I didn’t know what else to say.
“You are supposed to be in the green room. Where is Josephine Kimura?” Coach Kutchi asked.
Imani’s light faded away. She bowed.
Thank goodness! It was over.
A few people clapped, only for the applause to die away into an uncomfortable silence. Imani exited into the opposite wing.
Jeb stepped out onto the stage. “Ahem. Well, wasn’t that . . . interesting.”
Something about the way he enunciated that last word seemed off. Not just that ‘interesting’ was an understatement, but I noticed he’d lost some of the cowboy twang. He had to be seriously stressed.
The hush of the audience unnerved me. Perhaps the Fae were all gossiping in their private boxes.
Coach Kutchi shook me, her voice a quiet hiss. “What do you think you were doing? You were about to ruin the show.”
“Um. . . .” That was what she cared about? “Aren’t you worried about what people will think? What they’re going to do now?”
“Haven’t you ever heard the saying: ‘the show must go on’? I don’t care if one student played a prank or is messing with forbidden magic. We can worry about detentions later.”
“A detention?” Seriously? That was her answer to this problem. Maybe she wasn’t familiar with the Red affinity. Not everyone was.
I spotted Imani in the opposite wing. Vega’s long, lean frame bent in half to stoop to Imani’s level as she quietly spoke with her.
Jeb coughed. “Every All Hallows’ Eve we manage to put on a big ol’ scary show of magic. That’s an example of scary, ain’t it?”
A few uncomfortable laughs erupted in the audience.
“That’s the same girl who turned red last year!” someone shouted from out of the darkness of the auditorium.
Oh God, here it was. Everyone would know what she was.
Jeb tugged at the curl of his mustache. It sprung back into place the moment he released it. He looked to Coach Kutchi helplessly. He was out of his depths here. Why couldn’t he have stayed at the school? Khaba would have been here to smooth things over if he had been in charge.
I had to do something. Maybe I could claim responsibility. People already suspected I was like my mother. Those who didn’t know for certain what she was knew she had been dabbling in forbidden magic. I could say I’d had another one of my accidents. I tried to step forward again.
“Don’t,” Coach Kutchi said.
On stage, Jeb bumbled over his words, stammering an explanation about students and pranks, and kids not understanding what they were doing when they were first learning magic.
I tried to wrench free of the coach’s
grip. “You don’t understand. I have to do this.”
“No, you don’t! You don’t understand what you’re up against.” She whispered, getting right up in my face. “There are Fae in there. They’ll skin you alive.”
“I know. That’s why I have to try to fix this. I don’t want anyone to hurt my students.”
Coach Kutchi was head of athletics and had some serious biceps for being a woman in her fifties. Or at least a woman who looked like she was in her fifties. Not to mention she could use magic. She could have easily held me back.
Instead, she released me, shaking her head, sorrow in her eyes. “Do what you have to.”
I backed away, heading onto the stage. The moment I stepped out of the shadows, the lights blinded me. The magic spotlights were as powerful as electric lights.
Jeb’s eyes widened as he spotted me. He shook his head and gestured for me to get backstage.
“Hi,” I said, waving at the audience. My voice was amplified as though I spoke into a microphone. “My name is Clarissa Lawrence. My biological mother was Alouette Loraline. I guess most of you already know that. You’ve probably also guessed I’m a lot like her.”
A strained smile stretched over Jeb’s face. “Now is not the time for this. Please wait for me backstage.”
I continued toward the center of the stage, blundering on, trying to make this right. I babbled, trying to think and talk at the same time. “You’re probably all wondering what that last act was about? Why would our school allow a student to perform such an edgy act? Such a dangerous act? Why would we allow students to do something like that?” I was delaying, trying to think of an excuse: we wanted to do a piece on a taboo topic to push the boundaries of art and tradition—which is what art is meant to do; we were exploring the color wheel in my art class and noticed that we have a full spectrum of color in paint but for some reason, not in magic, so we thought we should point out how ridiculous and unbalanced this is; or this was an interpretive dance using the color red to represent the past suppression of Witchkin minorities.
Hex Crimes Page 22
