by Sarina Dorie
I graded a jillion pieces of art during finals week and managed to turn in my grades on time. Every day I practiced developing my magical abilities. I wasn’t able to make plants swell and blossom with my touch like an Amni Plandai, but I increased my knowledge of herbs and learned the medicinal properties of viper venom and hydra blood when added to various remedies.
Josie tutored me after school, and I endured Vega making snide remarks as I observed her classes. She was my temporary mentor until Pro Ro decided he had less to do—or didn’t hate me. I meditated, using the lucid-dreaming techniques Thatch had taught me, in an attempt to control my subconscious mind and my affinity.
All my life I had wanted magic, now every spare moment was filled with it. I studied like there was no tomorrow, and considering my history with the Fae, maybe there wasn’t.
I would have liked to study advanced magic, not make samples of art for student projects, but there was always something else to do that interfered with my goal to find out about curses—and how to cure them. My time was divided between my lessons and preparing the art lessons I taught.
Planning for classes didn’t go very well considering I’d already spent my twenty-five-dollar budget for the year four months before.
I decided to take inventory to see how long the supplies would last. I made a list of supplies on a paper so I could easily check off what I had, how much of it was left, and what I didn’t have. Having a premade list meant I could avoid spending any more time in the closet than I needed to.
Imani and Grogda—or Greenie as she insisted on being called—worked in my classroom after school, quietly practicing a cleaning charm from Vega Bloodmire’s lessons. It was one of the spells I could do thanks to Josie, so I had tutored them on a few techniques I thought might help them. Now they had surpassed my skill and practiced on the mold around the windows in my room.
“I wish we could be on the same school team,” Imani whispered to Greenie as she swiped her hand above a windowpane. “We hardly have any classes together.”
“I want to switch teams,” Greenie said. “I’d give up Amni Plandai for Celestor any day.”
Imani giggled. “You want to join that group of snobs? Seriously?”
“If I could.”
Imani stood on a chair to reach a higher section of window. “Mr. Thatch said only one student changed her affinity to Celestor in the last hundred years. It’s pretty rare and takes a lot of work.”
As the two girls cleaned and chattered away, I finished up my list of items I suspected I was low on. I made my way around the horseshoe-shaped arrangement of tables to the back stairwell that led to the dungeon. The paltry Elementia fire charm blazing in my hand did little to penetrate the yawning mouth of the passage.
I nodded to the girls. “You two keep imagining the taste of lemon zest and building up that golden light in your core. I’m going to take care of a few things in the closet.”
I hesitated a moment longer, taking a deep breath to calm my nerves before I went in. There was nothing wrong with the closet, I told myself. Or the passage to get there. All the blood was gone. No trace of bad magic remained.
Only when the door creaked closed behind me did I untuck my cell phone from my pocket and turn it on to use my flashlight app. The weapon of electronics made me feel safer. I’d learned last semester that electronics didn’t make Red Affinities weaker like it did for the other affinities.
The electricity in my palm tingled, tasting sweet and delicious against the flesh of my fingers. I could give my phone power if it ran out, or if Thatch decided to steal the new battery like he had with the last one, but I preferred to charge it in Lachlan Falls and benefit from the small doses of electrical energy when I used it.
I descended the stairs, holding the cell phone out in front of me to reveal anyone who might be lurking in the shadows. My heart sped up as I passed the charred steps where Julian had died. I wasn’t going to think about that. I had a job to do right now, and I didn’t have time to dwell on that sneaky son of a Fae.
I rushed into a walk-in closet that might have been impressive if the shelves had been full. I had more than enough brushes, but no paint. Khaba had scrounged up supplies for me in the first quarter as a wish when I’d rubbed his lamp, but most of that paper was gone, save for a box of recycled paper. The pencils that weren’t upstairs were broken or nubs. Students had stolen the nice ones. Two Tupperware tubs of crayons and color pencils weren’t enough to supply classes with thirty-two students in them. Actually, I had closer to thirty-eight now that Julian’s class had been divided up and given to the other teachers for second semester. Numbers would be down again after Jeb found a replacement for History of Magic. Talk about a class that wasn’t going to prepare students for survival after high school.
I set down my cell phone on a shelf to angle the light so I could see what I was doing as I counted sheets of construction paper. One of the stairs outside the closet creaked. I poked my head out, making sure none of the students had followed me down. I didn’t think Imani or Greenie would tattle on me for having a phone, but someone else might.
The stairwell was empty.
I resumed my inventory. Twenty quills remained after what the students had done to them. I’d collected feathers from the pegasus stable and washed the manure off them so we could use them as quills. Early on, I’d gotten students to make their own inks out of ash, plants and berries, but there was only so much pen and ink I could teach. I wanted them to paint color wheels, draw with pastels, and make collages.
More than that, I wanted art to count for something in this ecosystem of magic. I didn’t want to teach the “easy class” meant for students that the administrators didn’t know what else to do with. How could I make my class meaningful? I wanted to help enhance their magical skills.
It was hard to do that when I barely knew how to use magic myself and I only had a week’s worth of paper left. As I stood there, surveying the desolate expanse of shelves, I knew I was going to need to do something drastic.
Another creak on the steps drew my attention. My heart thrummed in my chest. I checked again, but no one was there. Reluctantly, I resumed taking inventory.
Khaba said he couldn’t grant me more wishes—not without really rubbing his lamp—which he had implied might entail more than I was willing to do. I needed to go to the Morty Realm where I could get a good deal on supplies. There was an art-supply thrift shop back home in Eugene I liked to go to called MECCA: the Materials Exchange Center for Community Arts. The place was an art teacher’s wet dream.
But it was at least twelve hours away from the bus stop outside of that podunk town in the Olympic Peninsula to Eugene, Oregon. Even if I coordinated to have someone chaperone me through the forest to the bus stop in the Morty Realm, take the bus to Seattle, and Seattle to Eugene, Oregon, and have my mom pick me up, I would have to carry all those supplies back. Not that I was keen on making that trip after my last encounter being followed by the Raven Court.
My other option was to ask Thatch. He was more than capable of traveling long distances using magic. That was probably why he was the school’s recruiting agent. He’d made me watch his homeroom twice in the last week and cover an afterschool detention duty for him. I’d missed a lesson on remedial charms with Josie so he could observe students in the Morty Realm. He’d even brought a freshman boy to our school as a result of one of these excursions. Maybe those favors would give me some leverage.
As I considered this in my desolate storage closet, I became aware of breathing behind me. That was how I had known Julian had been there before. I hadn’t heard him walk down the stairs. I’d detected the shallow breath in the stillness of the closet.
I froze, trying to convince myself no one was there. The hairs on the back of my arms prickled. A breeze rustled my ponytail. Suddenly I felt cold.
I focused on my affinity, increasing the red energy spiraling inside. Fear made it churn and fluctuate unevenly. When I thought I had increase
d my power and was ready to defend myself, I spun.
No one was there. I sighed in relief.
I reached for my phone. My hand encountered solid flesh. I shrieked and drew my hand back. My gut reacted automatically, without thought to the consequence of who might see. Electricity sparked from my fingers. The apparition of a man’s hand momentarily flashed in the blue arcs of light before disappearing. A man grunted. Feet scuffed on the stone floor, and the stairs creaked in front of me, but I couldn’t see anyone.
I snatched up my phone and ran out of the closet, my heart hammering in my chest. I took the stairs two at a time, no easy feat for someone with legs as short as mine. I slammed the closet door behind me and sagged against it.
Imani and Greenie looked up from cleaning tables. Too late I realized I had left my list in the closet. I didn’t want to go back down there for it.
“Are you okay, Miss Lawrence?” Imani asked. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”
I had seen a ghost—or felt one. Even in death, Julian still haunted me.
CHAPTER THREE
Sweet Dreams
I knew I was dreaming because I was in my childhood bedroom once again, orange Halloween lights from outside flashing through the curtains into my otherwise dark bedroom. The room was unabashedly uncool and nerdy, just as it had been when I’d been fifteen. A herd of My Little Ponies stood watch from on top of my armoire, and fantasy novels lined the shelves. Potted plants decorated the windowsill, and the Barbie fairy castle my dad had built for me dominated one corner of the room. I lay under the Tinker Bell bedspread, already dreading where this dream would go.
It was the night of homecoming my sophomore year.
Whenever my life soured into stressful times, this reoccurring dream returned. From the lucid-dreaming exercises that Thatch asked me to practice daily, I could at least tell the difference between reality and nightmares now. Once or twice, the exercises for coming up with settings I wanted to dream about had even worked. At the same time, I hadn’t learned how to control my dreams or stop this reoccurring nightmare.
I wasn’t alone in this dream.
Derrick snuggled closer to me. This was always the nice part of the dream. It never lasted.
“I really should get going. If your parents catch me here, they’ll think I was trying to take advantage of you,” Derrick said.
I recited my line. “Just cuddle with me for five seconds longer.” No matter how I tried to break out of the pattern, my words were always fixed. The past remained unchangeable.
Derrick always stayed. Just as we had in real life, we would kiss, and our magics would react like matter and antimatter in the U.S.S. Enterprise’s warp core converter. The tornado always came for him. Already my muscles cramped with anxiety. I didn’t want him to get stolen away.
Unlike the night of homecoming, I was now naked under the comforter. Derrick kissed my temple and down my cheek and neck. I closed my eyes, leaning closer into him. This hadn’t happened before. That night, Derrick had only kissed me once.
I pushed against the walls of the dream with my will, trying to break the cycle. A little more of my present self leaked through. “I’m going to try to help you,” I said. “I’m going to break your curse.”
“Mmm,” he said.
“I’m going to get my magic under control so we can be together.”
“Indeed. Splendid.” His voice sounded British, less Derrick.
The last time I’d had this nightmare, I’d somehow pulled Thatch into the dream. He’d been livid. But this wasn’t Thatch’s cool monotone.
My heart thrummed wildly. I didn’t want to turn to see who it was. I already knew. I wanted to close my eyes and push it all away. I tried to wake myself up, but I couldn’t do it. The dream took its course, using me like a marionette.
My subconscious told me it was time to turn. My dream body obeyed and looked at him. Julian lay beside me, his head propped up on one hand. Blinking orange lights from outside flickered across his face. He was human-looking and whole, his skin smooth and unblemished. Leaves clung to his hair.
His smile was confident, not in the least bit alarmed. “Did you miss me, darling?”
I tried to squirm back, but vines crept up the blankets and wove around me. They yanked me closer to him.
He chuckled, “You didn’t think you were going to be able to get away from me that easily, did you?”
“I’m warning you,” I said. “Leave me alone, or I’ll kill you.”
“Precious, why would you do that? I love you. And you love me. Don’t you?” His eyes were concerned. They were vividly blue, more like Derrick’s than Julian’s. The change threw me off, and I hesitated, trying to figure out who he was.
Vines caressed me, sending shivers down my spine. My breath came faster, fear spiking through me. A leaf nudged its way between my breasts, a spiraling tendril circling my nipple. I gasped in pleasure.
No, I didn’t want this. I remembered who he was. I tore the plant off me. Another vine snaked up my arm, and I batted it away.
“Stop,” I said. “I don’t want you. I’m in control. This is just a dream.”
“I thought you wanted this,” he cooed. His face looked younger, more like Derrick’s. His sandy hair changed to a vibrant azure that matched his eyes.
I couldn’t tell who he was, Derrick or Julian. Vines twisted around his limbs, covering him in woven garments made of plants. Moss sprouted across his naked chest. Ferns grew from his hair. He was half Julian and half Derrick now.
“Tell me how you’re going to save me,” Derrick said, his voice his own. “Tell me you’ll break my curse, and we’ll be together forever.”
He stroked my waist, his hand smoothing down my hip and over my leg. The gesture made my worries melt away. With his every caress, I sank into complacency. I tried to fight against my affinity before it made me forget what a villain he was.
“Would you do anything to break my curse?” he asked. “I don’t need much. All I need is my true love’s kiss.”
I would do anything to save him. But I remembered enough of myself to know the kiss would cause the tornado. This dream felt like a trap.
“No,” I said. “Kissing won’t cure you. It will only make everything worse.”
“I’ll show you how it will make everything better.” He leaned in.
I tried to pull back. Bark flickered over his face, and then a patch of leaves sprouted from his hair. Like a hologram overlaid on top of reality, his face shifted from Derrick to a green man made of plants, bone, and bark. His hair and eyes transitioned from blue to vividly green. A root wiggled out of his nose and wormed across his cheek.
I tried not to let the panic overwhelm me. I had seen Julian Thistledown’s true self once before, and I had lived through it. The only difference was that this was Derrick, not Julian. This was the face of someone I had loved and hurt accidentally, not the man I had killed on purpose.
The vines circled more tightly around me, refusing to let go. The green-man version of Derrick pressed the rough bark of his mouth against mine. His erection poked against my stomach, hard and sharp like a sword. Had the tornado come, I would have welcomed it. But the wind and storm didn’t seize him.
His hot breath tickled my ear. “I love you. I want you. This is everything I’ve ever dreamed of. I know you want it, even if you’re afraid to say it.”
I tried to fight the vines, tried to resist the affinity in me swelling up to the size of a balloon. I didn’t know what would happen when I let it take control. Would the storm start and tear Derrick away, or would I be lulled into a thrall of seduction with Julian, a man I hated? Thatch didn’t believe I was being haunted, but if he were here, he’d know it was true. He would be able to see and feel Julian.
My options were limited. I had tried to wake myself up in the past, but that had never worked. I couldn’t change the dream, aside from minor details such as what I said. The only diversion from this nightmare I had ever successfully accomp
lished had been accidental—the time I had called Thatch into this dream.
I didn’t know how I had done it.
“Thatch!” I called, hoping he might hear me in his sleep. “Please, help me.”
Julian/Derrick continued to kiss me. I tried to squirm away. I imagined a part of myself leaving my body and slipping across a ghostly world of wispy dreamland made of shadows and into Thatch’s head.
“Thatch,” I called again, slipping my fingers around something insubstantial and intangible that felt like his essence and yanking it toward my body. I wasn’t sure what I was doing. It just seemed like the correct thing to do.
Like a hook on the end of a line, I felt myself drawing back across a desolate borderland that resembled a moonlit desert. I whipped into my own body with such jarring force that it left me dizzy. Hands roughly pushed me away. The sensation was so real I thought I had woken, but no.
I was still locked in that same horrible dream.
Thatch lay next to me in the bed, naked. He looked around, confused. He frowned at me.
“Merlin’s balls,” Thatch said. “I told you to stay out of my head.”
It had worked! My nightmare was over. Only, from the way Thatch scowled at me, I knew I was about to experience a new nightmare.
CHAPTER FOUR
Lessons During the Witching Hour
Thatch shook his head at me. “Wake up and get dressed.” He snapped his fingers.
The dream immediately ended.
I blinked my eyes open. My dormitory room was cloaked in darkness. Vega’s shallow breath made a rhythm in the bed next to mine. Slowly I sat up, groggy and confused. I reached for my dream journal in the drawer of the nightstand to record my dream out of habit, then stopped myself.
Had I truly pulled Thatch into my dream? Or had it been a trick of my mind, and I’d found a new way of making myself believe I had control over my subconscious. I sat in bed, too sleepy and befuddled to know.
