Hex Crimes

by Dorie, Sarina

  His gaze drifted away from the book. “If I did it right.”

  The writing in the book reminded me of calligraphy. It was handwritten on yellowing parchment. “Is that Sanskrit?”

  “Indeed.” He placed an arm around my shoulder. His lips grazed my forehead. He inhaled and let out a satisfied sigh into my hair. “Shall I keep reading?”

  “I’d like that.” I closed my eyes and listened to the poetry of his voice. He read so beautifully. I wondered how many students over the years had secret crushes on him when he’d read lists of ingredients. Perhaps he gave enough detentions to squash those thoughts from anyone’s minds.

  He paused, turning a page.

  “How is it that your students don’t fall in love with you when you read to them in class?” I asked.

  He chuckled. “I don’t read to students. I make them read to me.” He nuzzled his nose into my hair. “Nor would I ever read to them from the Kama Sutra.”

  I laughed. “Are you serious? You’re reading from the world’s oldest sex book?”

  “As a matter of fact, I am.” He lifted his nose in the air, trying to look superior, but that ghost of a smile gave his mischief away. “Though, I will have you know, only twenty percent of the book actually gives instructions on sexual positions.”

  “Right. And I suppose you’re going to tell me you were reading the section on esoteric matters.” I poked him in the ribs. “Are you going to translate the section you were reading?”

  “No. It’s unlikely you’d be . . . interested in my . . . favorite section.”

  I knew what he was doing. He intended to lead me down a path to play some kind of joke on me. I humored him.

  “All right, then. What’s your favorite section?”

  “It’s advice on the most . . . stimulating chapter. It touches on the fantasies of school teachers everywhere.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Money.”

  I rolled away, laughing. “Yeah, sure it is.”

  “I’m telling the truth. A school teacher at a school for at-risk youth earns so little of it.”

  “Was that really what you were reading? Or are you pulling my leg?”

  “Me? Joke? When am I not serious?” He leaned toward me and planted a peck on the top of my head. I tilted my chin up and kissed his lips.

  He twirled the pink strands of my hair around his finger and tickled my cheek with it. “Is this less intimidating? More . . . normal?”

  “Yes. Thank you.” I waited for him to correct me for thanking him, but he didn’t.

  “Have you decided if you’ll let me . . . kiss you?” His mouth said “kiss,” his eyes said something else entirely.

  My gaze flickered to his full lips. At rest like this, not flattened into a line in irritation, he was beautiful.

  I swallowed. “I’m pretty sure once you start kissing me, I’m not going to be able to stop.”

  “In that case, we’d better make sure you’re certain, then.” He leaned closer, his breath brushing against my cheek. “You haven’t decided I’m too dark and demonic?” His lips twisted into a smile as he said it.

  “Not too dark and demonic. The perfect amount of dark and demonic.” I lifted my lips to meet his, but he pulled just out of reach.

  “Are you sure you’re sure? That isn’t the Kama Sutra talking? Or your affinity or—”

  “You, shush.” I grabbed his face and kissed him.

  He brushed my hair back, stroking my scalp before skimming across the naked flesh of my neck and arms.

  As I slid my hand along his ribs and down his leg, I realized he wasn’t wearing any shorts. I lifted my T-shirt, savoring the way he admired my body when I took it off.

  “You are lovely,” he said.

  I blushed. “Thanks.”

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  A little thrill passed through me. I hesitated. That alone told me I was in control, which reassured me. “Do you have any condoms?”

  He laughed. “I had a feeling you would ask.” He stretched across the bed to the nightstand, slid a drawer open, and withdrew a flat, foil wrapper.

  “That won’t, um, burn you, will it?” I asked.

  “No. I’m not Fae. And many Red affinities handle Morty-made substances reasonably well. I imagine you aren’t like an Amni Plandai with allergies to plastic or processed foods.” He handed the condom package to me. “Perhaps you would care to do the honors. You so creatively taught that sexual education lesson in the Morty Realm. I’m not a banana, but I should think I’ll do.”

  I opened the wrapper, surprised to find it was empty. “Um. . . .”

  “Abracadabra.” He waggled his eyebrows. He lifted the sheet from his lap and waved a hand over his erection. Bright blue latex sheathed him. Apparently he had magically covered himself when I’d been preoccupied with other matters.

  I laughed. “I bet you think you’re hilarious.”

  “Of course I do.” He nibbled at my neck, the gesture unexpectedly playful. “Are you ready to have your every fantasy fulfilled?”

  He made love to me slowly and tenderly. It wasn’t boring or unimaginative in my book. He fulfilled my every fantasy and more.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Vega Bloodmire, Evil Roommate Extraordinaire

  The sound of voices filtered through my dreams. I woke warm and cozy in a bed far softer and bigger than my own. A disconcerting moment of not knowing where I was pressed in on me. Light flickered through red walls.

  No, not walls, curtains. The fabric gathered at the corners of the canopy bed had been unbound, enclosing the carved frame in dark red velvet. I was alone in Felix Thatch’s bed.

  His murmur came again, more clearly as the cobwebs of sleep lifted from my brain. He spoke too quietly for me to make out his words.

  The woman’s voice came loud and clear. “Don’t think I’m doing this for free. I have my price.” From the snotty tone, I knew it was Vega. “I have better things to do than wait around for little miss sunshine.”

  Vega was referring to me. I shrank back from the curtain, afraid she would sense my presence. I wondered what she would do if she found out I was here. Blackmail me?

  Thatch responded with a cool monotone of indifference. “By ‘better things to do,’ I assume you mean go to sleep and catch up on your beauty rest. As I’m certain you’re aware, Mr. Khaba won’t stand for you sneaking out of the school to go dancing at a club.”

  Vega’s voice rose. “That rule is meant for Witchkin with inferior abilities, unable to protect themselves against Fae. It doesn’t apply to a powerful Celestor such as myself.”

  I scarcely dared to breathe. She obviously didn’t know I was just beyond the curtain. I wanted to keep it that way.

  Thatch sighed overdramatically. “That’s what they all say. Everyone always thinks the rules aren’t meant for them.”

  Vega’s voice was loud enough she could have been just on the other side of the curtain. At the same time, it echoed like she was far away. “I’m not going to sit up all night waiting for Clarissa. I have a date.”

  I seriously doubted that. No man in his right mind would date the wickedest roommate in all the land.

  Venom laced her every word. “And don’t tell me to go look for her. I’m not her keeper.”

  “Go to bed or do as you like,” Thatch said. “I’ll find her and deposit her in your room.”

  A sliver of curtain close to the mattress revealed a gap to the scene beyond. It called to me to peek out.

  Vega droned on, “Like I said, I’m not going to keep babysitting for you out of the kindness of my heart. I expect to be paid in full for reporting to you.”

  Slowly and quietly I squirmed my way lower on the bed so that I could see out the gap.

  Thatch lounged in a chair across from a full-length mirror. He was clad in a white T-shirt and a pair of loose slacks. Instead of his reflection, the mirror showed Vega in one of her fringed flapper dresses. A sparkly headban
d held her black bob back from her face. She managed to exude cultured elegance and disdain at the entire world around her. The mirror, mirror, on the wall revealed the fairest—and grumpiest—of them all.

  I wished I knew how to use mirrors as though they were a Facetime app.

  “We can discuss business in the morning.” Thatch waved a hand airily. “Presently, I need to find Miss Lawrence before she releases a monster from the depths under the school or some such thing as she’s wont to do.”

  I tried not to laugh. He was such a convincing liar.

  He snapped his fingers at the mirror. Purple light shimmered from his fingertips, and the image of Vega disappeared. He strode to the bed and drew the curtains back. I blinked at the intensity of the light.

  He sat beside me, the mattress sinking under his weight. “It’s time to get up. Ms. Bloodmire has noticed your absence.”

  I yawned. “How long was I asleep?”

  “Probably an hour.” He leaned down and kissed the back of my neck. “Do you want to shower before I escort you upstairs?”

  “You don’t have to escort me.”

  “Yes, I do.” He murmured into my hair. “You might fall into a pit of demons and release them, or accidentally turn your friends into monsters. It would be a pity to lose Mr. Khaba again after his sabbatical.”

  Had I been more awake, I might have felt a pang of guilt that I was the one who had freed Khaba from the safety—and prison—of his lamp, causing him to go on an evil bender. But all I could think about was how languid and relaxed I felt. I smiled at the sensation of Thatch’s lips on my skin. I turned to hug him.

  He pulled away. “Don’t even think about it. I’m not letting your arms bewitch me.”

  I stretched, the blankets falling away from my naked body. “What are you paying Vega to babysit me?”

  “It isn’t babysitting. You aren’t a baby.” He crossed his arms and looked away, but he watched me out of the corner of his eye.

  It probably didn’t have anything to do with the fact that I wasn’t wearing any clothes and my breasts were exposed just above the edge of the blankets.

  He went on, “Any other person would ask ‘why’ I ask Vega to look after you. But not you. You ask, ‘how much?’”

  “I don’t have to ask why. I already know. It’s because you love me.”

  He jerked the blankets off me and poked me in the ribs. “Something like that.” He tickled me. “No more lounging. It’s time to get up. If I don’t get you back soon, I’ll never hear the end of it from Vega.”

  And if Vega suspected I’d spent time with Thatch in bed, she’d probably tell Elric so she could extort a diamond-studded coffin from him. I could only imagine how news of me being in a relationship with his enemy would hurt him.

  Now that I had formally allied myself with Elric and the Silver Court, and I had agreed to give him an heir, he might insist I break up with Thatch. Vega had served as my first test subject to determine if I could turn someone into a Red affinity—and I could—but I didn’t know if that actually got me off the hook with Elric. Vega seemed to think the wording of the contract was sound enough that I could turn any Witchkin into a Red affinity to serve the purpose of giving Elric a child.

  As if this bargain looming over my head wasn’t enough to worry about, I now had to consider what Elric might do with Thatch. There would be no end to the war between them if Elric found out I had chosen Thatch over him as a boyfriend.

  I squirmed back from Thatch’s tickles. “I’m up. No need to resort to torture.”

  “Do I need an excuse to resort to torture?” He grinned. He was beautiful when he was happy. It was amazing what sex did for people.

  I pushed myself out of bed. “Am I showering solo, or are you joining me?”

  “I took the liberty of showering while you were asleep. I can tell you would be the sort to hog up all the hot water and not give me a turn.”

  I rolled my eyes at him.

  It was just as well. Vega was waiting, and we would take far too long if the two of us showered together.

  The passage was dark on the way up to main floor from the dungeon, but sconces flared to life as we passed them. Thatch was dressed in his work clothes of a tweed jacket and matching trousers, though he’d left off the cravat for once. He didn’t even have to raise a hand or mutter an incantation to make the sconces burst to light and illuminate the hall. The light welcomed him like a familiar friend.

  There was so much magic to learn. I wanted to be able to do the kinds of things he could do.

  We passed the portrait of my mother outside the stairwell. When I took in her witch hat and the green snakes coiled around her arms, she remained still. But out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement. Her black eyes followed us as we passed, a knowing smirk on her lips. Her hair, now more black than auburn in the dim lighting, drifted in the wind. The green snakes slithered around her.

  When I dreamed, sometimes I was enough in control of myself that I could leave my subconscious and drift across a barren landscape and find a door to another dreamer’s mind. It had been an accident at first, but in that moment as I used my peripheral vision to examine Alouette Loraline’s painting, a sense of déjà vu swept over me. I felt as if I were leaving my own body and being drawn into someone else’s.

  The presence was strong, reeking of power and magic. For a moment I thought it was my mother, alive in that portrait and seeping through the layers of oil paint. But my mother’s smile was sneaky, cunning perhaps, not sinister. I could feel the rage boiling in this body, every muscle shaking with loathing. It was so powerful, I stumbled on the steps.

  The vision—if that’s what one would call it—faded. It reminded me of that alien presence I’d sensed earlier. I had at first feared the Raven Queen had been present. When Thatch had removed my blindfold, I had realized no one was there. I had chalked it up to my overactive imagination and my panic attack.

  Now I wondered otherwise.

  Instinctively, I reached out for Thatch’s hand, my fingers brushing his. I intended to remark on the painting and the strange feeling that had washed over me, but he drew his hand back from mine sharply. The relaxed expression on his face soured. Even without uttering a word, he managed to make me feel like a chastised child.

  The immediacy of his judgmental gaze cut all other thoughts away, visions included.

  I hugged my arms around myself. “What was that dirty look for?”

  He waved his wand through the air, creating a shimmering blue bubble around us that resembled the surface of water. I recognized the soundproof spell from when he’d used it before.

  “We are taking a turn about school after hours. There’s no telling whom we might run into—staff or delinquent students.” He raised an imperious eyebrow. “I would remind you to show some discretion. That includes while you are in Miss Bloodmire’s presence.”

  “We could do this phenomenal thing called ‘telling the truth,’” I said. As much as I didn’t want Elric to know, if our relationship wasn’t a secret, no one could hold it over us. “It isn’t like it’s going to be a surprise to Vega. She walked in on us when you were, you know, after Josie turned our room into a spider den.” I had talked to Josie once about the incident, but once wasn’t enough.

  It was going to take a while to make things right between us again.

  Thatch’s voice was a low rumble. “Miss Bloodmire believes I was seducing you and breaking your heart, or something to that effect. I have no doubt that in her mind such deeds are completely understandable and unreproachable. A relationship with you, on the other hand, would be against school rules—which she would take morbid delight in, so that she could report my conduct to Khaba in the hope of getting me sacked. This would enable her to become Celestor team department head, and she would bully the other staff members. The least she would do is blackmail you, making your life miserable in the process.”

  Did he truly believe that about Vega
? Then again, she had tried to get rid of me so she could have the room to herself our first year as roommates. More recently she had tried to drop a sheet of icicles on Thatch and me. Thatch hadn’t exactly been on her favorite-person list since he’d made her share a dorm with me.

  “As of this moment, Miss Bloodmire has no suspicion I would ever touch you again. If she did, she wouldn’t have used her mirror to scry my mirror to contact me about your absence.”

  Scrying. Another magic skill I lacked. “That was a pretty cool trick.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You are missing the point, as usual. It’s time for you to go back to your room. You will not breathe a word of what transpired tonight to anyone. Am I clear?”

  When I didn’t answer, he nudged me. “Promise me.” The ice in his tone could have frozen hell.

  “What happened to the Felix Thatch who was done bossing me around?”

  He cleared his throat. “Would you please consider not telling Vega or anyone else about us?”

  I supposed him asking nicely was a compromise, but I wasn’t very happy about his supposed request. “Fine. I won’t tell anyone. Happy?”

  My afterglow melted away and was replaced by a crabbiness that matched Thatch’s. Moments ago I had wanted to tell him about the feelings radiating from the painting, but now I was too annoyed to even want to talk to him.

  I trudged across the hall and up the stairs, Thatch following a few steps behind me. I tried to keep in mind he knew Vega better than I did. He knew the school rules and was aware of how Khaba wanted to fire him. It wasn’t Thatch’s fault I had an evil roommate. He was smart to be cautious.

  I just wished he didn’t always have to be so practical.

  On the floor to the women’s dormitories, he shadowed me, so close the tweed of his jacket whispered against my arm. As I reached for the door to my room, his arm stretched past me and rapped on it loudly. He grabbed me by the elbow, not roughly, but unnecessarily firmly, like I was going to bolt.

  The door swung open.

  Vega sat on the bed, dressed in a sequined flapper dress. She showed off a scandalous amount of leg for a school teacher. Then again, the dress rested just above her knees, which wasn’t actually that high. She was just tall and resembled a fashion model with a tremendous amount of leg.