by Sarina Dorie
“Was my biological mother . . . was she cruel to you when she taught you to control your affinity?” I turned my head over my shoulder to take in his expression.
His eyes were full of pain. “Alouette? No, she was very kind to me.” He shifted uncomfortably before his face settled into a mask that gave away no indication he was human, much less that he was capable of feeling. “She was gentle with my sisters, who needed someone nurturing after all they’d been through with our mother and the Raven Queen.” He cleared his throat. “That’s why I . . . well—”
“Fell in love with her?”
He was silent for a long moment. I feared he would affirm my fears, to admit that he had loved her once. More than that, I feared he still felt that way, but he wouldn’t admit it. I turned away again, not expecting him to answer.
“I was going to say why I respected her.” He poked me in the ribs, a playful gesture that didn’t match the somberness in his voice. “You’ll be a good teacher, like her, once you master your powers. I can already see how you’ve helped Imani. When I’m gone, there will be someone else to help the students who are Red affinities.”
That was the second time he’d said when he was gone or after he died.
I yawned. “Is this . . . a prophecy? Something you’ve seen in your crystal ball or something?” I closed my eyes, unable to fight the heaviness of my lids.
“When you draw, you see the present. You see inside people. I see the future with my art.”
He never wanted to share his sketchbook. Perhaps this was why. I remembered his beautiful painting of Gertrude Periwinkle. I’d always assumed it had been her past. He’d given it to her when she looked old. But it had turned out to be her future. She’d become young again.
The sound of him swallowing was audible, a clunk in his throat just behind my ear. “I’ve seen my death. Perhaps it’s preventable. Fate can be fluid and flexible.” He stroked my hair. “I don’t want you to hate me in the time we have left together.”
His words sank into my chest, the claws of despair suffocating me.
“How much time do you have?” I asked.
“I don’t know. You’ll be there when it happens.”
This was the worst date I’d ever been on. Tears filled my eyes, and I leaned back against him.
I fell asleep with him spooned behind me. I woke up to a dark room, momentarily thrown off by the rise and fall of my pillow. My head rested on Thatch’s chest. I sat up. His arm snagged around my waist and drew me in closer.
I wrestled the pillows for a comfortable position before flopping down and sleeping again. The next time I opened my eyes, dawn peeked through the curtains. I lay on my back, Thatch’s face nuzzled into the crook of my neck. One of his arms rested across my hips. He had said he would only cuddle with me until I fell asleep, but he had given me more than I’d asked for.
The third time I woke up to kisses on my forehead. I stretched and groaned. “You cuddled with me all night. You didn’t have to do that.” I blinked the sleep away from my eyes. Sunlight danced through the open curtain.
He planted kisses across my cheek and down my jaw. “I wanted to. It’s one of the few times we won’t be at work and we could spend the entire night together.”
It had been nice. I could get spoiled by cuddling with him.
If he was around to give me cuddles in the future.
I freshened up in the bathroom, thinking about the night before. The day was bright and sunny, and I wanted to bask in that warmth. I didn’t want the weight of Thatch’s words to press in on me from the night before. I didn’t want to think about him dying.
When I came out of the bathroom, I asked, “What’s on the agenda for today?”
He remained seated in bed. “Agenda?”
“Yeah, don’t act like you don’t make lists for everything.” I imitated his stuffy accent as I sat beside him. “‘At seven o’clock, we’ll have your first lesson. At seven thirty, you’ll finish your first lesson and read chapter fifteen for half an hour. At eight, you may go up for breakfast—if you’re done with your other tasks.’”
“I don’t talk like that.” He snorted. “Do you want me to imitate your American accent?”
“Sure, go ahead.” I leaned against him and buried my face against his chest.
He massaged his fingers against my scalp. “Are you still mad at me?”
“It depends. If I say I am, will that make you nicer to me?”
“You have three hours of ‘nice’ Felix Thatch. It’s up to you how you want to use that time.”
“What happens after that? Do you turn into a pumpkin?” After I said it, I wished I hadn’t. This came too close to joking about his impending death.
Thatch didn’t notice. “No, I’ll simply be back to my usual toady self. We’ll return to Womby’s in three hours.” He sat up and stretched a lanky arm across the short gap between the bed and the desk. He grabbed the bag he’d brought the night before and set it between us. “Since you are so fond of schedules, I shall give you one. At eight fifteen to eight forty-five, you will get ready for the beach.”
“I don’t have a swim suit.”
“At eight forty-five to nine o’clock we will walk to the beach. From nine to ten we will go swimming or tanning or whatever it is you think would be so enjoyable out in the sunshine.” He said the word with a grimace. “From ten to ten fifteen—”
I cracked up laughing. “Seriously? I have to follow this schedule?”
“I’ll leave that up to you. In case you’re wondering, I did stop at the store.” He pulled out a matching yellow polka-dot bikini set. Just like the song my mom used to sing, it was teenie weenie.
I laughed. “When did you get this?”
“Last night.” He handed me a pair of flip-flops next.
I’d spent that hour trying to stimulate my affinity while my legs had been in pain, and I’d been angry with him. He’d gone shopping and bought me something to try to make me happy. It was hard to say who’d been more tortured.
“I’m surprised any store was even open at that hour,” I said.
“It wasn’t. I helped myself. Magic has its advantages.”
I smacked him on the shoulder playfully. “That’s stealing, you know. You aren’t any better than a Fae.”
I expected him to shove me back, but he didn’t.
“I did pay, and not with Fae gold, so I would say it’s a jot better. It just happened to be inconvenient they were closed.” He pulled a bottle out of the bag. It looked like sunblock.
I peeked in the bag and pulled out another bottle. “What’s this?”
“It’s Morty medicine.”
There was a can of some kind of spray and a few tubes of things labeled in Spanish. Either I wasn’t as good at reading Spanish as speaking it, or my powers of language proficiency had worn off with Thatch’s supplement.
He gave a little cough and looked away. “I hadn’t taught you enough healing spells, nor would you be able to use anything based on nature and earth energies that Grandmother Bluehorse or Miss Kimura might have taught you since there aren’t any herbs or Amni Plandai magic to absorb. That meant if I couldn’t convince you to let me use my pain affinity—and I doubted you were going to want to use your affinity, seeing how vexed you were—I would have to resort to other means.” He held up one of the tubes. “After I left, it gave me a chance to cool off, and I thought of the next most pragmatic solution if you didn’t allow me to help you heal yourself. Morty medicine was the logical compromise.”
I dropped one of the tubes back into the bag. “You mean, all that time I was stuck here, mad at you for being cruel and taking pleasure in my pain, you were actually buying me medicine to feel better?”
“You say it like you think I want you to get hurt so I can steal your magic.”
I had thought that. I felt guiltier than ever. I circled my arms around his waist. “I’m sorry. That isn’t what I meant.”
“You turn into a different person after you use pain magic.” It was a side of him that scared me. The Mr. Hyde to his otherwise gentle Dr. Jekyll.
His smile faded. “I know. It’s why I abstain from using my affinity unless other sources of energy aren’t available.” His eyes reflected the gloom that weighed heavy on his soul. “Do you forgive me?”
I nodded. I understood why he’d used pain magic on me. He’d told me the night before. It had been the quickest solution. I circled an arm around his neck and drew him closer to kiss him.
He pulled me onto his lap. His fingers smoothed over my hips and under the edge of the shirt. “Am I allowed to touch you now that you’re done being mad at me?”
“Yes.”
“Correct that schedule. From eight thirty to ten, we will be staying in the hotel room. The beach can wait.”
The beach was lovely. I purchased a sundress that I wore back to school along with my new flip-flops. Thatch lent me his jacket as I walked in the woods because it was far too cold to go without a coat. I hugged the fabric to myself, wishing it were his arms embracing me instead. He was quiet as we walked, lost in his thoughts. I wondered if he was pondering his death.
I was.
Thatch escorted me from Lachlan Falls back to the school, all the way up to my room. As I opened the door and entered the room, he stood outside. Vega sat at the desk, an open book before her as she copied information into a notebook.
Thatch cleared his throat. “Miss Bloodmire, might I have a word with you?”
“About what?” she asked a little too sweetly. She continued writing.
I looked from one to the other. Already I could tell this wasn’t going to go well. Thatch would want to know who had soaked my dress in formaldehyde. Vega would want to keep her soul safe and wasn’t likely to divulge information about who had coerced her.
“Pray, why were Miss Lawrence’s shoes in your wardrobe?” Thatch asked.
She looked me up and down before resuming her writing. “Her shoes are no longer in my wardrobe anymore, so I assume she found them, and her snazzy outfit wasn’t ruined by wearing bunny slippers. I don’t see what the big deal is.”
Thatch crossed his arms. “Might I have a word with you in private?”
“No,” I said. “This concerns me. I don’t want to be excluded from the conversation.”
Vega waved me toward the door. “You can go, Clarissa. I don’t particularly find the idea of you witnessing Felix Thatch torturing me appealing.”
“When have I tortured you?” Thatch strode across the threshold, entering the forbidden territory of a woman’s dorm room.
If the principal found out, he’d be livid.
“Plenty of times,” Vega said. “Remember that week you gave me after-school duty for no good reason?”
Thatch’s voice remained flat and indifferent. “I equally assign all teachers in my department duties. You are no exception. I hardly think that qualifies as torture.”
Vega nodded to me. “Josephine Kimura came around looking for you. I told her you had gone off somewhere with Thatch and you were probably dead.”
Great.
I found Josie in her classroom prepping materials. Books floated around her, pages turning in them. She glanced at one and wrote something down.
“Hi, I’m back from my mom’s.” I waved to her. “I hope Vega didn’t worry you. She told me she told you I was probably dead. I never can tell if she’s joking or not.”
“Hey, girl.” Josie slid a folder into a file cabinet. “Get any good art supplies at that discount store?”
“What art supplies?” My eyes went wide at my slipup. “Oh, you mean yesterday? Yeah, a few good things. Nothing big.”
Her eyes narrowed. “How was your visit with your mother?”
“My fairy godmother,” I corrected. “Great. Yeah. It’s always fun to see family.”
Her gaze raked over my windblown hair, flip-flops, and sundress, out of season for anywhere in the Pacific Northwest, including a drafty boarding school. She waited a beat too long, her lips pressed into a line. I knew she knew I was lying.
“Clarissa,” she said slowly. “I called Mrs. Lawrence yesterday to make sure you arrived safely with Professor Douchebag. Can you guess what she told me?”
Craptacular. I had just been caught.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The Bounds of Friendship
I had known sooner or later Josie would find out I was seeing Thatch and it would be a disaster.
“I can explain,” I said.
“No, you don’t need to. It’s none of my business. I was just trying to make sure you were safe. You are.” She crossed her arms. From the way she glared at me, I could tell it wasn’t okay. “You might want to call your mom and let her know you’re back from the Raven Court or wherever Thatch took you.”
Now my fairy godmother would be worried about me too. “Thatch didn’t take me to the Raven Court.”
A levitating book nudged Josie’s shoulder. She shoved it away. “But he didn’t take you to your mom’s or the art supply store either.”
I considered lying and saying we arrived at my mom’s house later—after Josie had called, but Josie might have called her at midnight. Instead I decided to tell the truth. Or half the truth.
“We went to Lachlan Falls, but the Raven Court was there. We tried to outrun them. You know how Thatch uses that transportation spell? After a couple of jumps or space shifts or whatever it is he does, we ended up in Cuba. He was completely out of magic and had to rest.” My voice rose in agitation as I recounted the tale about my cursed attire. “Then the shoes I was wearing turned out to be hexed. The dress was soaked in formaldehyde and caught on fire. I was covered in burns, and Thatch had to heal me. All this depleted his magic, and he made me promise I wouldn’t tell a soul that a Merlin-class Celestor like himself might run out of magic. We ended up in a hotel infested with cockroaches so I could recover from my burns and he could recuperate.”
She tilted her head to the side. “Why were you wearing that fancy outfit in the first place? And don’t tell me it was for a special occasion with your mom.”
“If I tell you, will you promise not to tell anyone?” As much as I wanted to, I knew I couldn’t tell her. Josie was a blabbermouth. But I had to give her something. It was dirty, but I was going to have to play by the rules of this realm. “If I answer your question, you will stop asking any more questions?”
She adjusted the black-rimmed glasses on her nose. “Yeah.”
“Promise?”
“Yes! Just tell me. The suspense is killing me.” The levitating book nudged her again. She aimed her wand at it, and the tome drifted onto her desk.
“I had planned on going on a nice, normal date. Obviously, it didn’t work out.”
Her eyes went wide, a spark of interest lighting her face. “With whom?”
“I answered your question. You promised not to ask any more questions.”
“You can’t drop a bomb like that on me without giving me all the details. What is up with all the secrecy?” She talked with her hands, gesturing with enough force to knock her lacy witch hat off her head.
I lifted my chin. “Some people wouldn’t approve of my choice of dating material, so I’m not going to share with anyone.”
“It’s Elric, isn’t it? I’m not going to tell anyone if you’re dating him. Not even Khaba. I promise. But if you are dating Elric, you should tell Khaba so he can figure out what to do about him sneaking in to see you. He probably keeps breaking the wards.” She drummed her fingers against her desk. “And why are you using Vega as a diversion for all this?”
I shook my head at her, trying to slide a teasing tone into my voice. “Sorry. You used up your quota of questions.”
She shoved
me playfully. “You’re as funny as Pinky.”
“I should get going. I need to go to Lachlan Falls to use the Internet café to call my mom,” I said. “I have to find a Merlin-class Celestor to escort me.”
“You should swing by Khaba’s office. See if he’ll chaperone you. I bet he will if you do a favor for him. I heard from Mrs. Keahi that he wants to make sure there aren’t any traces of memory-altering spells on you.”
There she was gossiping with the secretary again. “Why would Khaba think someone would alter my memories? Who would do that?”
She grimaced. “Oh, I don’t know. Someone who thinks it would be a good idea to kidnap you and take you to the Raven Court.”
I didn’t want to have to deal with Khaba and his suspicions, or the principal and his excessive number of rules, so I avoided the admin wing. When I returned to my room to see if Vega would take me, Thatch was still interrogating her. They sent me away—even after I tried to explain why I needed to go to Lachlan Falls.
That meant I had to rely on Khaba for chaperoning me. I found him in his office. His eyes lit up when he saw me, and he gave me a big bear hug. “I’m so pleased to see you in one piece. Did Josie send you?”
“Yeah, sort of. I need to get to Lachlan Falls to call my mom. I need a chaperone to escort me there.”
Khaba asked a million questions, sometimes the same question in a different way—probably to see if I would slip up. I told him the same basic story I had told Josie. He performed several magical tests on me, none showing him the results he wanted.
“Can we get going?” I asked. “I want to talk to my mom before she worries herself to death.”
Khaba rubbed at his bald head. “Has Mr. Thatch used pain magic on you?”
My eyes went wide. “What? Why would you think he’d be into something like that?”
