Witches Gone Wicked: A Cozy Witch Mystery (Womby's School for Wayward Witches Book 3)

by Sarina Dorie

  “Why would you step into the affinity fire?” Pro Ro asked.

  “I wanted to find out my affinity,” I said with a sheepish laugh.

  My humiliation was complete when I spied Thatch under an archway. He shook his head at me in disgust. He’d caught me half-naked, but at least he didn’t know my affinity.

  “Do you know what your affinity is now?” Julian asked.

  I hesitated. People hadn’t reacted positively when they’d suspected Imani’s affinity had been red. There was no way I could tell the truth.

  “I thought you were Amni Plandai, some kind of fertility sprite,” Pro Ro said. “Wasn’t that why Jeb prohibited dating amongst staff?”

  “Indeed, probably an Amni Plandai.” Thatch strode forward. “Isn’t it time everyone moved along? It’s past teacher curfew.”

  My stomach continued to churn. Thatch had been the one to tell me not to go into the fire in the first place. He knew what I was. Or he suspected. But he’d just covered for me.

  I intended to find out why.

  Vega’s cuckoo clock awakened me at the butt crack of dawn. Instead of a pleasant bird coming out and cuckooing six times, it screamed six times. I was so tired from my late-night excursion and shower, I probably wouldn’t have opened my eyes if it hadn’t been for the macabre alarm clock. As it was, I shot up and stared at the wall in horror as the clock finished its repetitions.

  So that was what Vega had meant about setting her alarm.

  Vega pushed herself out of bed. “I call dibs on the bathroom.”

  Her morning breath was like death as it rolled out of her mouth. Three feet between beds was not enough distance. I didn’t want to imagine what the stench would be like any closer to her. I flopped back into bed and turned toward the window. I slid my phone out from under my pillow and checked to see if it truly was six. It was. I shoved my phone back under. A few seconds later the shutters flew open and bright morning light filtered in.

  I wrote in my dream journal like I was supposed to and meditated on what I wanted to dream about next. I still didn’t have any more control over what I dreamed about than I had before trying the exercises in the book.

  Probably, I shouldn’t have meditated under the cozy warmth of the blankets because I fell back asleep. I might not have gotten up on time if it hadn’t been for Vega opening the door and slamming it.

  She waved at the air, making a face. “Fucking-A. It smells like death warmed over in here. Try a breath mint.”

  I arrived in my classroom forty-five minutes before first period. The other teachers in the school had homeroom first period, except for me—and three out of four department heads.

  Nervous energy percolated inside me. I didn’t feel like a real teacher. This would be my first time teaching in my own classroom without a supervising teacher—aside from those times during my internship I’d been left unattended as a student teacher. Each of those times something bad had happened. I prayed I wouldn’t accidentally turn the students into frogs.

  I wrote my name on the board and looked over my lesson plans for the day. The names on the list had changed since the last time I’d looked—Josie had assured me that was normal. My beginning class had thirty-five, mostly sophomores, but quite a few freshmen as well. The other classes were smaller. At least I could look forward to a fifth-period prep.

  Thoughts about my Red affinity kept storming through the fortress of my teacher zone. No one else had a Red affinity. Maybe that had something to do with the prophecy Josie had told me about. From the student and staff’s reactions toward Imani, I already knew being different wasn’t going to be an advantage.

  I should have spent the morning making a seating chart and readying additional supplies. Instead, I spent an hour and a half in the library trying to covertly research the Red affinity while evading Mrs. Periwinkle. I still hadn’t gotten a handle on the card catalogue, and I couldn’t find anything useful. Just before first period ended, I dashed up to my classroom to hurriedly staple my syllabi and sort papers I intended to hand out.

  I needed to figure out my affinity, learn how to use magic, spy on Thatch to see what he was hiding from me about my mother, learn where Derrick was, and teach art. I already felt frazzled trying to do everything.

  A chime went off at nine thirty when first-period homeroom ended. I didn’t know how students were going to make it to my room with a fifteen-minute passing time. I couldn’t get across the twisted maze of passages that fast, and some of them had classes outside in the greenhouses. Then again, some of the students might be able to use magic, whereas I couldn’t.

  Sleepy-eyed students trudged in around nine forty. I smiled and welcomed them. A few mumbled half-hearted greetings back. Students filled in the seats at the back of the horseshoe of tables first, then as more shuffled in, they took the seats closer to me. After half of them had come in, I remembered the seating chart, but looking at their sullen faces, I lost my nerve.

  The teenagers ranged in size, like in any class, but many were smaller than the average teenager. For the first time since teaching my practicum at the middle school, I wasn’t the shortest person in the room.

  On the opposite end of the spectrum, some were taller than professional basketball players, and as bulky as football players, with muscles that rolled like rocks under their skin. Yeah, I was a little intimidated.

  A boy with a pig snout instead of a nose came in telling a story to a student with fur sprouting out of his face. “And I was like, bro, that is fucking—”

  “Excuse me. This is a classroom,” I said. “Please refrain from profanity.”

  “Dude, are you the teacher?” the pig-snout boy asked. “I thought you were a student.”

  So much for thinking I resembled an adult. Already we were off to a rough start. I tried not to let my frustration show.

  A bell went off at nine forty-five.

  I called roll. I marked three students absent. By the time I reached the end of the list, two students strolled in. A short goblin-faced boy with dark hair took a seat in the back. He looked like the kid Thatch had hauled off the day before for making the farting noise during the assembly. A pretty girl with long brown hair walked up to an occupied seat beside her friend. I might have been wrong, but I suspected she had been behind the toilet-paper-fire incident.

  She leered at the student sitting beside her friend. “You’re in my seat.”

  The other teen quickly vacated it. Already I knew who I was going to have trouble with.

  “Balthasar Llewelyn?” I asked.

  “The one and the same,” the goblin-like student said.

  “Hailey Achilles?”

  The girl lifted her chin. I took that as a yes. She was more human in aspect than her friend, though her ears were long and pointed. Her eyes burned a fiery orange. I put stars next to their names on the list so I would remember to ask Josie about them later.

  I tried to squash my nervousness with a smile as I gazed out at the class. “My name is Miss Lawrence. I’m here to teach you art. Who likes art?”

  A few timid hands went up.

  “Great! I’m so excited to teach you drawing. I have a syllabus for you so you know the expectations and procedures.” I retrieved the stack from my desk and passed out the papers.

  “How tall are you?” one of the students asked.

  Not this again. I thought I would at least be spared this humiliation at such a diverse school with varied heights.

  “How old are you? You look like you could be a student,” someone else said.

  My forced smile hurt my cheeks. “Where I come from, those aren’t considered polite questions.” I finished passing out the syllabus.

  I went over the expectations and procedures on the paper. The two students who had come in late talked to each other, not listening to anything I said.

  I raised my voice to be heard. When that didn’t work, I said, “Excuse me. I need you to be quiet.”

&nb
sp; That worked for about thirty seconds before they continued, louder than before. Finally, I just stopped talking and stared at them.

  Balthasar laughed. “Last year we would soooo have gotten away with it if that stupid, fart-breath teacher hadn’t caught us.”

  “I literally could have busted a gut when I saw the expression on his face. Literally,” Hailey said.

  Students turned to look at her, annoyance crossing their faces.

  “Where do you think Bumble-ass is keeping the answer keys this year?” Balthasar asked.

  “Shut up!” someone in the class said.

  “What’s your problem?” Balthasar’s voice came out slithery and wet as he looked around. His eyes came to rest on me.

  Irritation swelled inside me, the pressure cooker of frustration threatening to explode. I crossed my arms. “It’s difficult to shout over you. Please refrain from talking while I’m talking.”

  Hailey lifted her chin. “What are you going to do about it?” A blaze of orange sparked in her eyes. More than ever I was certain she’d started that fire in the girl’s restroom.

  “What team are you?” I asked.

  “Can’t you tell?” Her nostrils flared.

  I couldn’t tell if she was sniffing the air or she was angry. Probably smelling my fear.

  She glanced away as if thinking. “Amni.”

  I knew a lie when I saw it. She wasn’t Amni Plandai. There was nothing plant-like or animal-like about her. I had a feeling she wasn’t Celestor either.

  I slowly said each word, watching her reaction. “Ten points … from … Elementia.”

  One of the kids in the class howled. “So not fair!”

  A few students snickered, their amusement cut short when Hailey turned to glare at them. “Like I care.”

  I continued reading the syllabus. I made it another half page before the whispering and giggling in the corner started. I looked up. “I will give you plenty of free time to talk as we do art, but right now I need you to listen and read along.”

  “Reading is stupid. This is boring,” one of the students shouted.

  “Why haven’t you just glued people’s mouths closed yet like Miss Bloodmire does?” one of the students asked.

  There was a spell for that? That did seem like something Vega would do.

  “Where’s your wand?” someone asked.

  I could have said my wand was up my sleeve, but I had short sleeves, so it was obvious it wasn’t. Plus, I didn’t have a wand to take out and threaten them with. I used the classic approach passed down from one teacher to the next since the beginning of time: avoidance. “Why do I have to use a wand? Professor Bluehorse uses a staff. So does the principal.”

  “They’re old school.”

  “Maybe she’s like the coach.” They gave each other knowing looks.

  Yes! Classic misdirection. Changing the subject was working.

  “What does that mean?” I asked. “What does the coach use?”

  A girl sitting at the front of the horseshoe raised her hand. “Coach Kutchi says wands are offensive phallic weapons from the old days of patriarchy. Plus, if you want to be good at sports, you need to keep your hands free of pointed objects that might accidentally stab you in the eye.”

  “That’s a pretty good point,” I said. “No pun intended.”

  “Do you play pegasus polo?” someone asked.

  “That’s not why she doesn’t have a wand,” said a soft, squeaky voice in the center of the class. “I heard she isn’t even Witchkin. She’s a Morty.” The student was huge, reminding me of a tree with the cracked bark of his skin.

  I lifted my chin and tried to say with confidence. “I am a witch.”

  “Prove it,” the pig-snout boy said.

  A bead of sweat rolled down my forehead.

  One of the kids in the front row opened a book and started reading.

  “Hey, put that away,” I said. “We’re still going over the syllabus.”

  One of the students in the back of the horseshoe carved his name into the desk with his wand.

  “Stop that!” I said.

  Hailey Achilles stood up. “If you’re a real witch, stop me.” She walked along the perimeter of the horseshoe toward the door.

  I thought she meant to leave. Maybe I was a bad teacher for thinking it, but I didn’t care if she left. One less troublemaker.

  My gaze fell on her moving lips. She said something I couldn’t hear. The air smelled like rotten eggs and cinnamon, a putrid mix. She held up her wand.

  “No,” I said firmly. “Ten points from—”

  Light exploded from her wand. I flew through the air, my back slamming into a wall and my head following. All the air whooshed out of me. Spots danced before my eyes. I couldn’t tell if the shimmer in the air was magic or a concussion.

  It was bad enough when public-school students cursed and called you all manner of rude names, but in a magical school, curses could be dangerous.

  “Recess!” one of the students yelled in triumph.

  “Class is out early. Woohoo!”

  I sucked in a breath. My classroom was upside down and everyone was on the ceiling. I blinked. The tables and chairs were twenty feet up, on the high ceiling of the room. Students ran out the door, their bodies defying gravity. One student sat in the front row reading his book.

  Another student cowered under his table. He peeked out at me. It was about then I realized I was the one who defied gravity, not them. I was stuck to the ceiling.

  I didn’t move a muscle, afraid any change would make me fall twenty feet to the floor and bust my neck.

  “Help,” I whispered.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Did You Rub My Lamp?

  I forced myself to remain calm. Panicking wasn’t going to get me down from the ceiling. I needed another teacher. Maybe Josie or Jeb could help me.

  “Hey!” I called out to the student reading his book, who had ignored the entire scene around him. He continued reading. I shouted louder. “Go get the principal. I need help.”

  Still no response. Maybe he was deaf.

  There was a child hiding underneath one of the tables. I tried to get him to run to another teacher, but he didn’t move. Since my students weren’t willing to assist me, I shouted for help until my throat was hoarse.

  It felt like I’d been glued to the ceiling forever, though the now functioning clock on the wall showed it had only been fifteen minutes.

  It was about then that Thatch marched through my door, wand in hand. “I demand to know why you released your class an hour early. Students are running wild on the school grounds.” He looked around the room.

  I should have been happy to see another teacher who could help get me down. But not Thatch. I considered my options and chose not to answer, because, let’s face it, Thatch was scary even when he wasn’t angry. Plus, he was armed with a wand.

  Thatch pointed to the student too absorbed in reading his book to notice someone had even entered the room. “You. Where is your teacher?”

  The kid didn’t look up. Thatch grabbed the kid’s book and snapped it closed. “Where is Miss Lawrence?”

  The kid glanced around the empty classroom. “Oh. Uh… ? Is it lunch time?”

  Thatch shoved the book at the student. He rounded on the child still under the desk. The boy was shaking. Poor little guy. I didn’t want Thatch to be a jerk to some innocent kid who hadn’t done anything to anyone.

  “Up here,” I whispered.

  Thatch whirled, looked to my desk, and then to the closet.

  I cleared my throat. The kid under the desk pointed to the ceiling.

  Hands on his hips, Thatch looked up. His eyes met mine. “What are you doing up there?”

  “Do you think I want to be up here? The students cursed me.”

  “That isn’t a curse. It isn’t even a minor hex. It’s a charm.”

  Like I cared what it was. “So … u
m,” I tried to find the words to ask him to help me down, but my pride tied my tongue into a pretzel.

  Any other decent human being would have offered to help me, but not Felix Thatch. He raised an eyebrow, as if waiting for me to grovel.

  I stomped down my ego, my words coming out in a rush. “Would you please get me down?”

  He muttered under his breath and circled his wand above his head. Purple light soaked into me, pelting my skin like rain. My legs and arms became unstuck from the ceiling first. It sounded like Velcro being torn away, but it didn’t hurt. The rest of my body ripped away all at once. I plummeted toward the floor. I screamed and covered my face with my arms. Abruptly, the freefall stopped short of the wooden boards.

  My heart thundered in my chest. I slowly pivoted in midair so that my body was upright. Thatch used his wand like a remote control, lowering me toward the floor. Dizziness washed over me, and I wobbled off balance. I tried to right myself, but my feet weren’t planted on the ground yet.

  “Stay still,” Thatch said through clenched teeth.

  I tried, but vertigo set in. I flailed out in an uncoordinated attempt not to fall over, but as my feet met the ground, I stumbled into a table, tripped, and fell flat on my face.

  As I pushed myself up, I found Thatch covering his eyes with his hand, groaning. Apparently, I didn’t need him or his magic to make me look like an idiot.

  “What happened here?” he demanded. If he were a doctor, his bedside manner would probably kill the patients. “Well?”

  Being snapped at after being attacked by my students was the last thing I needed. I couldn’t take any more stress. I shook so hard, I could barely fumble in my pocket for my key to the closet. He stalked after me as I rushed for the door and unlocked it.

  My voice came out in a croaking whisper. “Excuse me, I need a moment.” I darted through the door and slammed it closed before the waterworks started.

  Thatch said something from the other side of the door, but I couldn’t understand him. The stairs leading to the dungeon were dark and probably covered in a thousand years of rat droppings and spider carcasses, but I didn’t care. I plopped myself down in front of the open door to the supply closet and wept.