The Fairer Hex

by Lidiya Foxglove

  Then again, I already felt older myself, wearing a uniform. Maybe there’s something to this ‘wearing real clothes’ thing.

  “I’m not so sure we should be greeting her,” the first guy said. “This is obviously part of some sort of a plot. Where did you come from?” He came right up to me before Firian put himself between the two of us.

  “Of course,” the guy said. “You brought your familiar with you. What are you, a five year old?”

  “No. I don’t know what’s going on,” I said. “I didn’t even know I was a witch until a couple of weeks ago, and I don’t know if I want to be here either. I came from Georgia. Since you asked.”

  “Oh, you’re hiding something all right,” he said. “And I’m going to find out what it is.”

  “But…I’m not, though.”

  “There has never been a witch at a warlock school,” the guy said. “We practice the masculine arcane arts. You have your own things to do. And your very presence here, your energy, is going to disrupt our studies. I will be filing a complaint with the council, and unlike your family, my family has not been tainted by any Sinistral blood. So you’d better be careful around here and if you do anything to hurt Alec, you’re going to hear from me.”

  “I’m not—“ I tried to defend myself, but having said his piece, he was already leaving.

  “Is he friends with Alec?” I asked the other guy, who was still standing there.

  “Yes. Alec is our friend,” the guy said. “But I’m sorry Harris was kind of a dick.” He offered a hand. “I’m Montague Xarra. You’ll see us around. We’re in the same dorm.”

  I offered up my hand and was met with a strong grip. “Montague Xarra. That’s quite a name.”

  “Well, I’m quite a guy.” He flashed me a smile. He had very white, very sharp teeth. Like, very sharp. “I’d better go after him, but, I’ll see you. By the way—“ He turned at the door before shutting it. “—you wear the uniform very well.”

  “I’d stay away from him,” Firian said.

  “Why? He seemed nice.”

  “He seemed aggressive.”

  “You’re not jealous, are you?” I teased.

  “Pfffh.” He made a face of disdain. “I’m just protecting you. How are we paying for this?”

  “You have a clothing allowance,” Benton said. “Which you’re well under.”

  “Okay. I guess I’m good for now. Let’s look at the room.”

  Chapter Seven

  Charlotte

  The dorm was a four-story house with a big porch and a tower, painted a dramatic dark red color with blue trim. Since it was still early in the fall, all the windows were open downstairs, where a guy was in the common room, reading. He glanced at me and then did a double-take.

  “Hey there,” I said.

  “Whu—huh—it’s true,” he gasped.

  “Yes. I’m a girl. Hello. I think my room is upstairs?”

  He was just staring.

  “This is deeply weird,” I whispered to Firian.

  We went up the creaky old stairs. The whole place felt very old-fashioned and it took me a second to realize why. There was almost no electricity. A few lights on the walls, yes, but I didn’t see any televisions, computers, charging phones, heaters, or anything.

  My room turned out to be on the top floor, up in the converted attic space. There was just one room here, with a low slanted ceiling and a small bathroom tucked in the corner.

  “So…it’s you…” A low, sexy voice emerged from behind an easel in one of the dim corners.

  “Oh—you must be Alec.”

  Alec stood up, crouching a little as he made his way over, or else he would knock his head on the roof. Most guys wouldn’t, but Alec was particularly tall, and his shoulders strained his white shirt. His necktie was hanging undone around his neck. His clothes were wrinkled. He was reading a book called “The World Between”, and wearing glasses with dark frames that made him look perfectly collegiate chic. He had black hair, eyes that were slightly reddish and predatory, and light brown, warmly toned skin. A line of symbols was tattooed down one of his arms from wrist to…well, wherever it ended, while the other arm had Celtic knots ringing his wrist. And his trim fitting black pants had a—um—bulge.

  This is my roommate? Holy birth control. I felt like I might conceive just from looking at him.

  “That’s my name,” he said, taking a few more steps closer to me, and then giving Firian a look. “You must be Charlotte. And this is…your familiar?”

  “Yes,” Firian said.

  They locked eyes and Firian bristled.

  “Does your familiar always follow you around?” Alec asked.

  “For now,” I said. “He’s my friend and protector.”

  “Protector? Yes. You will need it.”

  This was ridiculously awkward, but I figured the best way to diffuse that was just to act normal. “So, I’m guessing this is my side of the room?” One side was obviously less lived in. The walls were bare and the bed was made with a plain blue blanket. Alec’s side had all kinds of weird art covering the walls, paintings that seemed to portray magical creatures.

  “So, you paint?” I asked, as I started unpacking my bag.

  “Yes,” he said. “I paint the other realm.”

  “They’re very nice,” I said.

  He gave me a somewhat bemused look.

  My skin was tingling all over. Even when I tried to focus on unpacking, my eyes kept gravitating to him like a magnet. My breath grew a little more shallow, and heat coiled inside my core.

  He’s so sexy. This should be a crime. Still, I should be able to get ahold of myself. Am I sweating? Ugh. I wiped my forehead. It is a little hot up here in the attic. Look, he’s sweating too. It’s not just me.

  “Can I open the windows?”

  “Of course.” Alec went back to his painting. His hand moved. Sexy hand. Grasping brush. Red paint. I was mesmerized, my brain turning to mush, tracking the strokes.

  Windows, I reminded myself.

  I staggered over to one of them and struggled to wrench it open. It was a big, old, heavy wooden frame and the sash cords were broken.

  “Do you need help with that?” Alec easily lifted it and propped it up with a stick. “These attic windows are shit.”

  “Thanks…”

  Firian opened the other windows before Alec could get to them. They looked at each other again, tension crackling. Alec dragged a hand through his hair, looking a bit pained. “This isn’t your world,” he said to Firian.

  “I know that. But I can’t leave yet.”

  Firian sat down on a chair now, watching me unpack my laptop, phone, and cords. I found one outlet. “Hmm…I guess we’ll charge your laptop when my phone is done charging,” I told Firian. Alec kept staring at me as I plugged things in.

  “Your phone won’t work here,” he said.

  I checked. “Aw…crap. How am I supposed to call my dad?”

  “On the house phone.”

  “The house phone?”

  “You didn’t read the school rules at all, huh?”

  “I didn’t really…intend to come here.”

  “We are each allowed one electrical outlet for our use,” he said. “Cell phones don’t work at all. Electricity weakens our magic, so I would rather not use anything at all. I would request that if you’re going to use your computer, you do it when I’m not here, or in the common room or library.” Then he looked at Firian. “Him, too. How do you have a laptop, man?”

  “Everyone here has such an attitude,” I said, but even then I ended up saying it in this weirdly sexy voice.

  “Stop,” Firian said, waving his arms. “What are you doing to her?”

  “I’m not trying to do anything.”

  “But you are doing something.”

  “I’m an incubus,” Alec said.

  “I knew it,” Firian said. “He’s seeping out magic to attract you, Charlotte. You can’t have him as a roommate. Sleeping in the same room as
him!?”

  “Dean Blair said they were giving him some kind of spell,” I said.

  “Yes,” Alec said. “Don’t worry. I can’t touch you. He said it would be a good control exercise. And if I want to be a warlock of note, I need to be a master of control. I’m glad you’re here. This is…excellent practice for me.” His voice sounded the way chocolate melting on a Lindt commercial looks.

  “So his father must have been an incubus,” Firian said.

  “Actually, my mother was a succubus,” Alec said. “But my dad raised me.”

  “Me too!” I said. I didn’t meet people who were raised by their dads very often.

  “I don’t trust women very much,” Alec said. “But I can’t help being drawn to them. And they can’t help being drawn to me. So…you will be attracted to me constantly. It’ll be a nuisance to both of us.”

  “We’ll see about that,” I said. Who was I kidding, but I said it anyway, just to assert myself.

  “It’s just the way it is. You can’t fight magic. Everyone in this dorm is…”

  “What?”

  “At risk,” he said. “For turning to the sinistral realm for our magic.”

  “And that’s the dark side?”

  Firian nodded. “It’s not evil, but it’s darker. And there are evil things there.”

  “Lots of kids flirt with becoming a sinistral,” Alec said. “Villains are cool. But the reality of it is, my mom used my dad. She seduced him, sucked his energy, and then dumped me off on him when I was four years old after determining I wasn’t ruthless enough to be a part of her world. Villains aren’t cool at all, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

  “Noted. At least you’re an honorable incubus, I guess.” I smiled at him. He gave me a look back like, oh, you little fool, cursed to gaze upon my beauty for the next year or four…

  Well, now that I knew what was going on, I could resist the urgent pull in my loins. Surely.

  I wondered if Firian…like…could see me when I was sleeping and knew when I was awake, and knew if I was bad or good, so…

  I might not be as popular here as I thought. So far I had a preppy jerk who hated me and an incubus who didn’t trust women. I took a few beloved possessions from my bag to spruce up my room: plushie kitty, plushie llama, plushie cloud with a face. A photo of me and Dad. A little framed painting of an octopus floating underwater; I found it meditative, and I’d also brought my yoga mat. Some incense.

  “Are you a hippie girl?” Alec asked.

  “No. Not really, but I try to stay in tune with, you know, the spiritual side I guess.”

  “That’s good,” he said. “That’s what being a powerful witch is all about.”

  “But I’m more of a gamer if I’m going to label myself.”

  “What game?”

  “Fortune’s Fate.”

  He shrugged. “On the computer?”

  “Yes. Firian plays with me.”

  “Your familiar plays computer games?”

  “He has a name. You don’t have to keep saying ‘your familiar blah blah’.”

  Firian grabbed my arm and shook his head like I shouldn’t bother defending him. “Just follow the rules, Charlotte. They’re already going to eat you alive as it is.”

  “No one’s going to eat me alive.” But I glanced back at Alec anyway. He gave me a secretive smile past his easel, his dangerous eyes lighting up a little, like he was imagining doing something to me. I guess that was how incubi lured in their prey.

  Chapter Eight

  Charlotte

  Before long, it was time for dinner. Alec pointed me to the dining hall. All the guys gathered from the various dorms to eat.

  “This seems more like boarding school than university,” I muttered. “Could I leave through those iron gates even if I wanted to?”

  “Of course, the magical world had to be secret. Obviously. You couldn’t just put a Starbucks on campus,” Firian said. He had put on a jacket for dinner, and also some glasses.

  “What’s with those? Are you trying to compete with Alec?”

  “No. I look more studious, don’t I?”

  Maybe a little more like how I imagined my gaming partner to look on the other end of the internet in my wildest dreams, like a geek wearing glasses, but a sexy one. “Will glasses help? Everyone talks to me like you don’t exist.”

  “It is poor etiquette to address a witch’s familiar directly,” Firian said. “It is exactly like I don’t exist. Familars only talk to their witch or warlock. Normally. Of course, you’re not normal…” After a minute, he sighed and snapped his fingers. The glasses disappeared.

  “I didn’t say they were bad,” I said.

  “It wasn’t working,” he said decisively.

  We walked into the dining hall. Well, I expected a hall, with a big long table and perhaps with Ignatius Blair presiding over everything.

  Instead, we walked inside of what seemed like a fine dining restaurant. “Good evening.” A young man greeted us with a simpering smile. “Do you have a table reserved this evening?”

  “I didn’t know I was supposed to reserve a table.”

  “It’s only if you have friends you want to dine with,” he said. “It’s not necessary. I will give you a private table.” He picked up a menu and showed me to a small table in the corner, after we had walked past larger tables of warlocks eating together, talking loudly, drinking. He was talking to me in a snobbish tone about the resident chef here at the college.

  “What about Firian?”

  “Your familiar is not on the dining plan.”

  “I’ll taste yours,” Firian said, sitting down across from me.

  “But—this seems really unfair.”

  “I’ll eat in Etherium. But…can I have a glass of wine? Maybe a merlot? I have money.”

  The young guy’s smile faltered for a moment. “Of course.”

  The sound of soft music and louder conversation filled the room. Candlelight flickered on Firian’s face. “I’m just here until you make some friends,” he said.

  “Friends?” I scoffed. “They’re not very welcoming. I’ve never seen college age boys so resistant to having a girl around…

  Firian looked at me. “Were you bullied that much in middle school?”

  The question caught me off guard. “Uh…let’s not talk about that.”

  “That bad?”

  “No, I just…”

  Firian glared at the wall as he unfolded a napkin and put it on his lap. “Is that what you were crying about in the backyard that one day?”

  “When?”

  “It was six or seven years ago. I was tempted to talk to you, but your dad really didn’t want that to happen. Of course, he was right. I couldn’t help you hex your classmates. And it would have just added to your angst, I’m sure.”

  “If only I could bring a therapy animal to school.” I laughed drily. “I probably would have been more popular if I had a pet fox.”

  The waiter brought the merlot and a coke for me.

  “So are we just not having a drinking age now?” I asked.

  “I don’t count,” Firian said. “Familiars are much more mature at birth. Witches and warlocks tend to be more mature as a result. You didn’t have that benefit, though. But culturally, this isn’t your world.”

  “That explains a lot, although not why everyone is a perfect specimen of manhood. I need to get me some of that glamour magic.” I paused. “So does that mean that if you take the magic away, everyone is dumpy and boring? Oh my god. It’s like living in a dating profile, where everyone posts the best picture ever taken of them from ten years ago. Is that it?”

  “Benton wasn’t hot,” Firian said. “You need something to work with in the first place. Harris looked weird, right?”

  “Um…I don’t know…he wasn’t ugly.”

  “You’re hopeless,” Firian said.

  “Why are we even talking about this? Everyone keeps looking at us.” Plus, the room was full of laughte
r and conversation. Every guy here seemed to be in a group with friends. It was somehow even worse than being the weird kid at a normal high school.

  “Good merlot, at least. You should order.”

  I looked at the specials of the day. The menu was very meaty. Good thing I didn’t have the eating habits of a girly girl. It was not vegetarian friendly at all and there was only one salad. “Beef and barley sausage with house pickled beet root and herb dumpling,” I said, looking at the menu. “I’m not sure I want this to be my only source of food.”

  “Witch cuisine,” he said. “Upscale witch cuisine. It’s very ‘old world’. More witches live in weird places, like Eastern Europe or Finland or Mongolia. And they keep to themselves, traditionally. So you get a lot of, you know, pickled things. It’s very on trend, Charlotte.”

  “Yeah, yeah, well, when you’re raised by a single dad, no one is making a crock of house pickled beet root. It was a real surprise whenever dad broke out of the pizza, hamburger, spaghetti, grilled steak loop.”

  “His carbonara is good,” Firian said. “With the parmesan cheese out of the shaker and all.” Then he glanced up and gave me a look sharp sort of face.

  I turned. Montague was coming my way. Harris was glaring at him from behind. Montague looked like he was going to mess with me. He also had a short cloak tossed around his shoulders. No kidding. This was happening. Men with capes was happening.

  He spread one hand on the table and leaned in to me, ignoring Firian. His sleeves were rolled up now, revealing very nice forearms with an old-fashioned gold watch around one wrist. I was inexplicably kind of intrigued by this cape and watch statement. I couldn’t believe Benton ran the clothing shop. “Do you have any questions with the menu?” he asked, with a faint smile.

  I bristled. “No.”

  “I hear the chicken liver is delicious.”

  I laughed. But no. He was right. There was chicken liver on the menu. “I’m good, thanks. I don’t think Harris likes you talking to me.”

  “As if I give a damn. I just saw you sitting here alone and nothing seems more unfortunate than the sight of a young woman dining alone.”