Hex and the City

by Sarina Dorie

  “You can use my phone, but the text won’t go through until I go to Lachlan Falls where I have Internet service,” she said. “First, you’re going to tell me everything that happened.”

  Fifteen minutes later, I sat on a couch in Principal Dean’s office, sandwiched between Khaba and Josie. My face was freshly washed, my hair brushed, and I wore one of Josie’s dresses and oversized sweaters. I had gotten away with telling Josie the bare minimum of what had happened. When I had mentioned the Raven Queen had forced us to have sex together for her own amusement—I left out the part about wanting to see my magic. Josie had hugged me and stopped asking questions then.

  Principal Dean sat behind his desk, a mountain of papers between us. Two crystal balls and a plate of unfinished food that he appeared to be using as a paperweight sat on top of messy stacks of files. He was dressed in his metal suit, his eyes weary. He leaned his chin against his knuckles.

  Thatch stood at the fireplace, stooped and gazing into the flames. Two clocks in the room ticked away the seconds, one slower than the other, the soft percussion jarring my nerves. Both clocks read three thirty-one.

  Principal Dean rubbed at his cropped silver hair. “Let me see if I got this down. The Raven Queen abducted you, Felix, while in transit back to the school. But they abducted Miss Lawrence from her fairy godmother’s house?”

  “Yes,” we said simultaneously.

  “Crikey! How exactly did they know where she’d be?” Chuck Dean asked.

  “How would I know?” Thatch snapped.

  “And how did they get past our wards?” Khaba asked.

  “Obviously,” Thatch said with his characteristic condescension, “they found a weakness.” His gaze raked over Khaba as if this were his fault. “If the Silver Court can get in, if mysterious Fae can sneak about the school making threats and getting away with havoc, it was only a matter of time before the Raven Court noticed they could get in as well.”

  Khaba stiffened. “I set those wards in place myself. I even had assistance checking my magic for flaws from Mr. Pinky.”

  “Indeed.” Thatch stared up at the paintings of cowboys wrangling dragons on the wall above the fireplace. “You assured me I would be able to come and go from the supply closet in the dungeon so that I could continue to efficiently examine magical occurrences in the Morty Realm to bring underaged children to this school. Not only was I intercepted along the way from this point, but I also was able to break through to get in at another point.”

  Khaba stiffened beside me. “Are you accusing me of negligence?”

  Thatch shrugged nonchalantly. “Either we blame incompetence, or someone at the school is purposefully sabotaging these wards.” From the way he raised an eyebrow at Khaba, I took it to mean he thought Khaba was at fault one way or the other.

  I didn’t think Thatch’s distrust or snooty attitude was warranted. It wasn’t Khaba’s fault. He wasn’t in cahoots with the Raven Queen. If he knew Khaba like I did—if he knew his capacity for love and heartache—he would have seen Khaba wasn’t out to get me. Maybe Thatch didn’t think Khaba felt any loyalty to me for helping set him free in a way that gave him control over his powers.

  Khaba leapt up from the couch. “I will have you know, I used layer upon layer of warding. My spells have been checked and double checked. No external entity could have weakened my protections, especially not some second-rate harpy magic.” His voice rose. “More likely, a trained Witchkin within the school has been tampering with my spells. It is highly probable it is someone already connected with the Raven Court. Like you, Mr. Thatch.”

  “Whoa, hold onto your dingos, mates.” Dean raised his hands in a placating gesture. “No one is blaming you for second-rate wards, Mr. Khaba. I checked those wards myself.”

  As if that was going to make any of us feel better after his previous casting of wards.

  Principal Dean smiled pleasantly at Thatch. “And we aren’t about to accuse anyone of working in collusion with the Raven Court. That said, mistakes can be made. We can check over the wards shortly and see if there are any other areas damaged by curses or enchantments.”

  Khaba nodded. “I concur with that plan. I would like Mr. Pinky’s and Miss Bloodmire’s assistance in this matter.”

  Dean went on. “There are other details I would like to clear up first, the Raven Queen’s motivations in particular. Why would the Raven Queen have such a special interest in Miss Lawrence?”

  Khaba shifted, impatience building in his body. Probably he wanted to take care of the wards first. My awareness was drifting outside my body, I realized. I forced myself to rein myself in. I didn’t want to invade his privacy.

  “Hmm. Mayhap it has something to do with Clarissa Lawrence’s . . . mother,” Thatch said. “Her presence warrants Fae attention. We’re fortunate that Fae prince decided she wasn’t worthy of his time, at least.”

  I ignored the jab. He was just doing this because he didn’t want anyone to know we were dating.

  “And why you?” Josie’s gaze raked over Thatch. “Why does the Raven Queen have such an interest in you?” She didn’t add her usual titles for Thatch like Professor Jerkface or Mr. Asshole, but she might as well have.

  Thatch raised his chin. “I was once employed in service to the queen. She still calls upon me for . . . odd jobs. Most of these I refuse. However, when the need arises, I perform these duties to demonstrate loyalty. As a result, I learn valuable information when I am in her confidence. Occasionally she has permitted me to bring captured children to our school from the dungeon.”

  I stared at him in wonder. I knew he had saved Derrick from her dungeon, but I hadn’t known about other children. Later I would ask him if this was true.

  “But you’re with us these days?” Dean asked. “You’ve renounced your wicked ways and now serve the interests of our school and the good of all Witchkin?” He didn’t sound certain.

  Thatch shrugged noncommittally. I wondered if anyone else knew the Raven Queen still possessed a piece of his soul. I burned to speak with Thatch in private, without anyone else around, but I doubted he would be any more forthcoming.

  “Let’s get back to the detail about the Raven Queen ‘forcing’ Thatch to torture Clarissa for her amusement,” Josie said. “What kind of twisted jerk would do that? Is that supposed to be one of your odd jobs?”

  Dean ran a hand over his salt-and-pepper stubble. “Miss Kimura, I know your heart is in the right place, but I trust Mr. Thatch did as he saw fit in the moment in order to preserve the Raven Queen’s trust in him.”

  Josie squeezed my hand and looked to me. “But that isn’t all he did to her, was it?”

  I shook my head at her. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

  She went on, glaring at Thatch. “I saw you in the hallway with her.”

  Thatch went back to staring into the fire. “I did what I had to in order to preserve our lives.”

  Khaba looked from Josie to him. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not talking about you and the Raven Queen. I’m talking about you and Clarissa in the hallway. I saw you touch her. You raped her, didn’t you?” Josie asked.

  “No,” I said. “That isn’t what happened.”

  She squeezed my hand so tightly it hurt. I tapped her hand, trying to signal she was crushing my bones.

  Thatch didn’t answer. His shoulders were hunched. He looked like a guilty puppy.

  Khaba strode closer. “Mr. Thatch, is this accusation correct?”

  “No,” I said. “I’m not accusing him of anything. Why doesn’t someone ask me what happened?”

  The principal sat back in his chair. “Well, this puts a very dark spin on the situation. Miss Lawrence, would you mind telling us exactly what happened? From the beginning? This time, without leaving out the details. Start at the moment you were abducted and end at the moment Miss Kimura found you.”

  I hugged Josie’s sweater around myself more tightly. “I don�
�t want to talk about it.” I glanced at Thatch. If only he’d be willing to tell everyone we were already in a relationship. This wouldn’t look half as bad.

  Josie jerked her chin at Thatch. “Maybe Clarissa would be more comfortable if he left.”

  “No,” I said. “I just don’t want to talk about it. Period. I’m tired. I’m upset. I just want to be alone and go to bed.”

  Josie continued glaring at Thatch. He crossed his arms and turned away. Her gaze must have felt like daggers.

  Khaba sat down on the arm of the couch. “You’re right. It is late, honey.” He placed a hand on Josie’s, and her fingers loosened from around mine. His eyes were full of pity. “I’ll walk you back to your room. Then I have some work to do inspecting wards. I don’t want the Raven Court to attack while the school is vulnerable.”

  Dean looked from Thatch to me. “I suppose we can talk about this tomorrow. When you’re ready.”

  “Look, I appreciate your concern,” I said. “But there’s nothing to talk about. What happened at the Raven Court was humiliating and horrible, but it was consensual. It’s none of your business what happened between Mr. Thatch and me.”

  “What he did to you,” Josie said, her voice mechanical.

  Khaba nudged her leg with his foot. “Clarissa said she doesn’t want to talk about it. Perhaps we should leave it at that.”

  It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate Josie’s loyalty, and it wasn’t that I wasn’t grateful for Khaba trying to be sensitive and attempt to tone her down, but they were treating me as though I were a child. I didn’t need to be handled with kid gloves.

  Josie opened her mouth, about to object.

  “Both of you, stop,” I said. More than ever I wanted to explain what had happened. I wanted to confess we loved each other, and we were in a relationship. I didn’t want them to think the worst of Thatch. “It wasn’t like that.”

  “What was it like?” Thatch snapped. I wasn’t sure if that blaze in his eyes was from anger at her or for me being on the verge of telling them the truth. “Have you considered at all how I might feel about this matter?” His face was red with rage. A vein throbbed in his temple. This wasn’t acting. “Miss Lawrence wasn’t the only one coerced against her will. Have you ever considered what it might be like to be forced to have sex with her?” He pointed at me. “Do you honestly think I wanted that? You all look at me like I’ve just confirmed I’m the monster you’ve always known I was.”

  The room was silent, save for the mismatched ticking of the clocks. Even if they didn’t understand, I knew how traumatic the experience must have been for him. It would have been like reliving the nightmares of his youth that he thought he’d left behind.

  “I don’t think you’re a monster,” I said quietly.

  He waved a hand at me dismissively. “Yes, but you’re naively optimistic about the entire human race. You’re the one person in this room who should hate me.”

  He stormed out. The door slammed behind him.

  That had gone well.

  Khaba sat on Vega’s empty bed across from me. I was hungry and exhausted. It was four in the morning. I didn’t expect I would be able to sleep for two hours before I had to get up for classes.

  “I’ll figure out who can cover for you first period so you can get some rest,” Khaba offered.

  “You don’t have to. Really, it’s not like I’ll be able to sleep.” He had enough to do figuring out the school’s wards. I didn’t like that he’d left the matter to the principal to wake Pinky to get started without him. I was afraid Principal Dean would wreck the wards like last time. Maybe his shoddy work was the reason Thatch had been abducted midtransit.

  “Do you want me to stay here with you? I can sit and read while you sleep. You don’t have to be alone.”

  “No, I’m fine.” I tried to smile, but my face hurt. Every muscle in my body hurt. I started to thank him but stopped myself. “But it’s kind of you to offer.”

  “I can sit outside your door if it makes you more comfortable. I can make sure no one disturbs you.” His large brown eyes were so sad. I didn’t know how Thatch could think he would have purposefully sabotaged our wards.

  “You go to bed,” I said.

  “I can’t. I need to figure out the problem with my wards. No one should have been able to get in. Someone from the inside must have tampered with it. One of the kids or staff. I won’t rest until I find the culprit.”

  What he really meant was he wouldn’t rest until he figured out a way to blame Thatch. I had thought I had cured him of his bias against Thatch, but it appeared his suspicion was ingrained too deeply. Khaba removed a tissue from the breast pocket of his pajamas, as if thinking I might need it. My gaze fell on the letters scrawled across the pocket. Princess.

  “Are those women’s pajamas you’re wearing?” I asked. He would have loved to see Thatch in my princess sweat pants. If only I could have told him.

  Khaba shrugged. “It’s hard to find this shade in men’s clothes.” A smile tugged at his lips. “I’m fifty shades of hot pink. I don’t mind being a princess in order to get what I want.”

  I laughed at his twisted sense of humor. “Just as long as you aren’t the Princess of Lies and Truth.”

  His laugh faltered. “What?”

  We still hadn’t solved that mystery. A worm of suspicion burrowed out of my subconscious into my worries. What if Khaba was the princess? He was the one who had given me the note that had used that title in the first place. He had always resented my biological mother, so he could have had a motive to plot her demise. He had an irrational hate of my boyfriend—and if he knew Thatch was my boyfriend, he might hate me as well. Even after proving Thatch’s innocence of murdering anyone, it still hadn’t been enough.

  Khaba was Fae, and I had sensed Fae magic spying on Thatch and me multiple times. He could be damaging the wards—or perhaps there were no holes in the wards. He was already inside the school. Thatch didn’t trust him.

  “What’s wrong?” Khaba asked.

  “Nothing.” The idea that Khaba could be my secret enemy was more ridiculous than the idea of Loraline’s face being under Pro Ro’s turban. I laughed again. Khaba was my friend. He remembered me resurrecting Brogan for him, didn’t he? Khaba cared about me. I could trust him.

  Unless he didn’t remember any of what had happened. My wish had been worded “forgiven and forgotten.” I hoped he hadn’t forgotten everything. I wet my lips, trying to find the right words to ask without asking. I didn’t want to dig myself in deeper trouble.

  A knock sounded at the closed door. It obviously wasn’t Vega. She never knocked. Khaba rose.

  “Come in,” I said.

  The door swung open. Thatch held a tray in his hands. His footsteps faltered. He surveyed Khaba with tepid enthusiasm.

  “Good evening, Mr. Thatch.” Khaba crossed his arms. “You’re the last person I expected to see at this hour.”

  Thatch’s eyes were rimmed with dark circles, and his usually lustrous hair was limp and hung in clumps. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

  He stood just past the entryway, shuffling his feet and looking tragic. He was level-headed and calm in the presence of the evil Raven Queen, he battled Fae enemies on errands with confidence, and he dueled with my hex-boyfriends. But he was a clueless social moron when it came to dealing with nice people.

  It was hard to say whom this was more awkward for. I waved. “You’re not intruding. You can come in.”

  Thatch strode forward. “I was concerned you had missed dinner—time is unpredictable how it passes in the Unseen Realm. I thought you might be hungry.”

  Khaba stood next to me, eyeing Thatch warily. Thatch hesitated again just before me, turning first to Vega’s bed and then my nightstand for a space to place the tray. I held out my hands, and he set it on my lap. Swirls of vapor rose into the air, tickling my nose with the temptation of savory soup. Balanced on the other side of the tray was a mug of
tea. My stomach growled.

  “Thank you,” I said. I stirred the chicken and onions around in the bowl.

  Thatch backed away. Khaba leaned forward. He waved a hand over the bowl, his fingertips shimmering for the briefest moment. Probably he was checking the food for poison or potions.

  Thatch stood in the shadows between the two wardrobes, looking like he wanted to fade away. I felt so bad for him.

  “Cock-a-leekie? Really?” Khaba sat back on Vega’s bed, reclining comfortably as though he owned the room. “Your timing is impeccable for a euphemism.”

  Thatch’s face reddened. “Americans call it chicken noodle soup. I hear they find it therapeutic.”

  I swallowed a spoonful. “That was thoughtful.” I shot a warning glance at Khaba.

  Khaba scratched at his chin. “Indeed. Uncharacteristically thoughtful.”

  Thatch cleared his throat. “Miss Lawrence, I expect you’ll be . . . fatigued, and you might need to use the morning to rest.” He untucked a folded piece of paper from his breast pocket and handed it to me. “I hope you don’t mind. I took the liberty of scheduling other teachers to take your place this morning. I’ve assigned Vega Bloodmire to your third period. I was assuming she’d be here, and I could talk to her about it.”

  “Oh. Well, thanks. You didn’t have to do that.” Now that I’d started eating, I felt more ravenous than ever. I did my best not to slurp up the noodles.

  Khaba nudged me with an elbow. “Don’t thank Fae or Witchkin, hon. If you do, they might think you owe them a favor.”

  My relationship with Thatch wasn’t like that.

  Thatch’s gaze flickered to Khaba on Vega’s bed. “I take it Miss Bloodmire isn’t in.”

  Khaba’s brows furrowed. “No. Where is Miss Bloodmire?”

  I shrugged. “I am not my roommate’s keeper.”

  Thatch’s lips turned upward in a half smile at the inside joke. “If I can’t find her before third period, I shall fill in for her so you can rest. Ms. Frost is to substitute for your first period homeroom. Pinky can fill in your seventh period if you need it. I’ve decided to postpone any magic lessons before and after school.”