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

by Sarina Dorie

  It looked like there was a reason for all that salt on my prophecy chocolate bar.

  I hadn’t even made it through the first period of the day. My students thought I was a joke. The staff hated me. My affinity was red, and no one else was red. I was the worst teacher ever. I should never have come here. I hadn’t even learned how to use magic yet, and I didn’t know if I would at this rate.

  I hid and felt sorry for myself until no more tears came.

  When I emerged from the stairwell, I peeked into my classroom. It was empty. What a relief. I needed to move on from this bad start and make myself presentable for my next class. If this had been like a normal art room with a sink for clean up, I would have splashed water on my face to get rid of the crust of tears. I didn’t trust the bucket of water in the broken sink to be clean, so I slunk to the nearest girl’s bathroom, which was all the way down the tower on the main floor, and washed up there. I scraped the cobwebs out of my hair and made myself presentable again.

  I would master my magic, I promised myself. Next period would be better. I chanted mantras of optimism to myself all the way back to my room.

  I should have prepped for my next class, but I needed to learn how to use magic and pronto. I skipped lunch and read a book Julian had given me on Fae history. Red affinities were mentioned, but nothing useful, like: This is how you shoot lasers out of your eyes at bad students.

  There was an interesting chapter on a lost court that had been destroyed, but the text didn’t say if they were related to a specific affinity or not. As far as I could tell, a Witchkin’s affinity wasn’t necessarily related to specific Fae courts. The section of book I’d stolen from Thatch had also mentioned something my mother had been interested in called the Lost Court.

  A short while later, someone cleared his throat in the doorway. I glanced up.

  Khaba leaned there, looking elegant and sleek. His gold shirt was unbuttoned down to his navel, showing off his pectoral cleavage and the top of a six-pack. I didn’t know how he got away dressing like that on a school campus, but I wasn’t going to be the one to complain. He was so yummy I could see why Josie obsessed over him.

  He glided forward, as smooth as a jaguar. “The principal asked me to check on you.”

  I stood. “Right. Thanks.”

  He opened his arms and gestured for me to come closer. Tentatively I stepped forward, still not certain I trusted a Fae.

  He embraced me in a bear hug. “Oh honey, you poor thing! No one deserves to be attacked on her first day.”

  I relaxed into the comfort of his arms. A hug must have been the balm my soul needed. I leaned my cheek against his sculpted muscles and tried not to drool on him.

  He released me and patted my shoulder. “All things being considered, you got off easy. Pro Ro’s class broke all the crystal balls playing dodgeball in his classroom last period. What a mess that was for the brownies to clean up. He’s going to have to leave out something really nice for them.” He went on to tell me some of the other deeds students had done in their other classes, making me laugh at his animated retellings.

  “Let’s see your class lists,” he said.

  I handed them over.

  He scanned the first class. “Ah, I see you figured out who the biggest troublemakers are going to be.” He placed a star next to another name. “Watch out for this one. She’s a Celestor and very smart, but lacking in the ethics department, if you know what I mean.” He made notes on my other class lists. “Ben O’Sullivan is a transfer student. Already he’s gotten himself two detentions today. He’s in your seventh period.”

  I nodded, grateful he was willing to alert me.

  “Now here’s the thing about these students.” Khaba ran a hand over his bald head. “If you can connect with them and get them to like you or respect you, you can convince them to do just about anything. But a lot of them come from rough backgrounds. They’ve been abused, enslaved, or coerced into using magic for their guardians’ gain.”

  As much of a pain in the butt as these kids had been so far, I could see why they might not react well to a new teacher. From all the stories I had heard about Fae using Witchkin, I could only imagine how difficult these kids’ lives had been. I wish I knew how to be that cool teacher who knew how to relate to students. These students had no respect for me. I didn’t know how I was going to be able to face them again.

  Khaba sandwiched one of my hands between his own, earnestly gazing into my eyes as he spoke. “Trust doesn’t come naturally to them. The other half of the population are spoiled brats who have had everything handed to them on a silver platter—and I mean that literally. These are kids who need us to ground them in reality. That sense of entitlement isn’t going to get them far when dealing with Fae who would sooner drain them of their magic than be impressed with wealth.”

  I nodded with understanding. This wasn’t so different from what I’d learned student teaching. It was just that these students had weapons, and I didn’t. They had wands and magic.

  “Now, I don’t do this often, but … I’ll grant you a wish.” Khaba took a seat in my chair.

  Khaba wasn’t at all like what I’d first expected. He wasn’t an evil Fae with ulterior motives—at least not that I could see. Perhaps my mother had selected him for the position as dean because he was a valuable asset and he truly cared about the school. Then again, he was Fae. Julian’s words came back to me. This was the Unseen Realm. There were rules.

  “Is there a … price for this?” I asked.

  “Of course there is. If I’m going to do this, I need you to rub my lamp.” He removed his shirt and tossed it on my desk with the practiced manner of a male stripper. He was ripped like an Egyptian god. His eyebrows lifted expectantly.

  His words sank in. I was still having a hard time concentrating while gazing at his rock-hard biceps. “When you say, rub your lamp, um … is that a euphemism?” He was so hot, I wouldn’t have minded—except that I wasn’t supposed to risk exploding untamed sex magic on the school.

  He laughed. “Honey, I don’t swing that way. But I do need a good shoulder massage now and then.” He leaned back and kicked his feet onto my desk.

  Besides this looking unprofessional, I didn’t want anyone to assume I was pursuing a relationship with another staff member and risk my job. I glanced at the door. “What if someone comes in?”

  He snorted. “As if half the school hasn’t seen me without a shirt at one time or another.” He pointed to his back. “The sooner you get started, the sooner I can grant your wishes.”

  Wishes. As in plural. “I get more than one?”

  “Three small wishes.”

  I darted behind him. Between his shoulder blades he sported a tattoo of a golden lamp. I rubbed it.

  He giggled, “That tickles. Harder. Rub like you want those wishes. That’s it. A little to the left. Higher.”

  I wasn’t actually rubbing the lamp at all. I was giving him a shoulder massage. I tried not to think about how attractive he was. His skin shimmered like bronze. I forced myself to focus on kneading his muscles. His powerful, chiseled muscles. My stomach flip-flopped. Magic inside me fluttered. I pushed away thoughts of how hot he was. Sexy thoughts always got me in trouble. I did not want to electrocute someone trying to help me, nor did I wish to make another enemy.

  His muscles were as dense as boulders. My hands ached after only a minute. That helped ground me in reality.

  “What is your first wish?” Khaba’s voice came out a satisfied purr. “And don’t try to ask for something major like world peace. My limitations are within this school and confined to the short term.”

  Hope lifted my spirit. I could ask for information about my Red affinity. Whether I should, was another matter. Khaba seemed nice enough, but what if he saw me as bad because of it? What if he only offered to grant my wishes because he wanted to find out information about me? The kind of wish someone made revealed their darkest desires.

 
; “I wish for an easy first day of school.” Immediately I regretted my wish. “No, I mean, I want to be able to do magic.” That was more important.

  “Sorry, that isn’t the way it works. You’ve already stated the wish.”

  It was fine, I told myself. I still had two more wishes.

  He pointed to his back. “Your wish is my command … so long as you keep up that massage, honey.” He snapped his fingers. He gestured to his right pants pocket. “Ask me if that’s a jar of sweets in my pocket or I’m just happy to see you.”

  There was definitely a sizable bulge in his pocket I hadn’t noticed a moment before.

  “Um. I assume that’s a jar of candy,” I said.

  “Not candy. Sweets.” He pulled out a clear glass jar filled with multicolored candies. It started off as a reasonable quart size but expanded to a gallon jug. The glass thunked and candy rattled as he set it on the table. On the front was a label that said, “Sweets.”

  He tapped the lid. “Try one.”

  I popped the lid open and selected a yellow candy. The moment I set it on my tongue I tasted lemons and sunshine. Warmth and happiness radiated from my mouth and into my chest. The dark clouds of my day evaporated. I felt like a new person. I giggled and hugged the jar.

  “I’m going to leave this jar with you today and today only. If at any time you need this to recharge—or you have a student who needs a little pick-me-up—you can use the sweets to help you manage about an hour’s worth of time a little easier. Now, I want to point out a little goes a long way, and you can’t use this all the time or else you’re going to become dependent and go through withdrawals. Make sure you bring me the jar during the staff meeting after school.” He pointed to his back. “Over here if you want two more wishes.”

  I set down the jar and dug into the knots of his muscles with gusto. The lamp had migrated to the left. I focused my efforts onto that shoulder blade.

  “Wow, I feel great!” I said. My mood had improved one hundred percent. “This is better than coffee. Next wish. Okay, boy, let’s see… .” My mouth worked faster than my mind. “I want magic—and lots of it. I don’t want students to ever glue me to the ceiling again. I want to be a powerful witch—the most powerful witch ever. Like my mother—but not evil. Can you do that? Or is that too big?” So much for not revealing my deepest, darkest secrets. My mouth had run away from me.

  “Instant magic? That would take a lot of rubbing. No offense, honey, but I don’t want to take off all my clothes.” His smile was amused.

  Heat flushed my face.

  “In any case, that request isn’t officially school business. My wish granting is limited by the duties and boundaries of the school. Might I suggest something related to your classes or students?”

  My mind was already racing to my next problem. “What am I going to do tomorrow? How will I manage those kids? Rotating A/B schedule, right? Today one, three, five, and seven. Plus, homeroom—of course, I don’t have homeroom—but I’m just saying. Tomorrow two, four, six, and eight. Who do we appreciate? You!” I couldn’t stop talking and had to clamp my hands over my mouth to shut up.

  “I’ll stop in tomorrow morning with the jar again. That can be wish number two. But you have to say what you want in the form of a wish. And you need to keep rubbing.” He pointed to his back.

  I kneaded my thumbs into his shoulder boulders. The lamp had drifted downward when I hadn’t been looking.

  “I wish for tomorrow to be a happy, easy day. Yay!” My enthusiasm bubbled over, making me sound like a motivational speaker on crack. “Wish number three. I wish for art supplies for the students. A closet full of art supplies. Or the administration to give me money for art supplies. Or I’d settle for a superpower so I could steal art supplies.”

  He barked out a laugh. “That’s a pretty big wish. I’d have an easier time moving mountains than increasing your budget. And you’re going to have to work on your superpowers on your own. Dig a little deeper in my muscles, and I’ll see what I can come up with.”

  “Okay, new wish. Different wish. School business. Here it is: I want Thatch to be nice to me. I mean, I wish for Thatch to be nice to me.” Even for a day. I did have to see him in the dungeon later.

  Khaba was silent. I leaned over his shoulder to take in his grimace.

  “No matter how much you rub my lamp, that’s magically impossible. Let’s go back to art supplies. What exactly do you need?”

  Seventh period was a beginning-level class, mostly made up of freshmen. A few sophomores and juniors were mixed in. I didn’t know if I’d have enough sweets for all my classes, but this one was going to need it; I had numerous experiences dealing with ninth graders during student teaching to know what fourteen-year-old monsters were capable of. I greeted each student with a smile and a piece of candy as they entered the room.

  “Miss Lawrence!” one girl squealed. Imani ran up to me and threw her arms around me. “I’m so glad I have you as my teacher this year again.”

  I was so surprised by the hug, I nearly dropped the jar of candy.

  “Imani! I’m glad to see you too. I didn’t know you were Witchkin until, well, yesterday.” I patted her shoulder. She was one of my favorite students, and that wasn’t just the sweets talking. There was one familiar face I knew from my other life, and I was glad it was her.

  “I didn’t know I was a witch either,” she said. “And I didn’t know you were a witch. But there was that weird day in health class. You know, the day with the bananas.”

  She meant the day I’d been subbing for a sex-education class. I’d never taken sex ed in high school, but I was pretty sure it didn’t normally involve the bananas coming to life to sing and dance about reproduction as students tried to put condoms on them.

  She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Do you think that magic was mine or yours?”

  “I don’t know.” I held out the jar of candy. “Do you have Mr. Thatch’s class?”

  She giggled. “Yeah, first and fourth period. He’s scary, isn’t he?” She selected a pink candy.

  I lowered my voice. “I recommend you save that candy for his class period.”

  She eyed the candy and glanced back at the happy, complacent students who had come in before her. She nodded with understanding. “Got it.”

  She chose a seat in the front of the U of desks. “Miss Lawrence is my old art teacher,” she whispered to another student near her. “This is going to be my favorite class.”

  With the aid of Mr. Khaba’s sweets, the last class of the day went smoothly. I only needed the candy once during the period to recharge. I went over the syllabus, gave students an art pretest, and awarded points for good behavior. I wouldn’t see them again for two days. That meant I would have two days to figure out what to do with the third-period class from hell. I wasn’t going to have the jar of sweets with me then.

  On the other hand, Khaba hadn’t said I couldn’t keep a few sweets for emergency purposes. I wrapped a handful in a tissue and placed them in the top drawer of my desk.

  By the time school let out at three thirty, I was exhausted. I had an hour before the four thirty staff meeting.

  There was only so much time in a day. As much as I wanted to know about Derrick’s disappearance, my mother’s investigations into the Fae Fertility Paradox, and whether Thatch had murdered the former art teachers—for their positions or because they’d stumbled upon something he didn’t want them to know—I had more pressing matters to focus on.

  I needed to survive teaching. That meant I needed to learn magic.

  I went to the staff meeting after school in the conference room, scanning the faces of the old witches, wondering who might make a better teacher than Thatch. Grandmother Bluehorse was loved by the students and known for her wisdom, but the disdain on her face when she glanced at me wasn’t exactly welcoming. My own department wouldn’t even look at me. Already, teachers had made it clear they wanted nothing to do with me. I could
ask Josie, though she wasn’t considered a powerful witch.

  Julian’s sky-blue eyes met mine from across the table. He smiled. My heart fluttered. I could ask him.

  Waiting until after the meeting finished was torture. I followed Julian to the front courtyard where he had a shift watching students as one of his duties. I glanced around, making certain Thatch wasn’t around.

  Julian waved to me, joy brightening his face.

  I got to the point. “Can you teach me protection spells from students?”

  He nodded solemnly. “Tough first day?”

  “You could say that.”

  He wandered over to a bench and sat. “Wards are difficult to learn. They’re the hardest form of magic. Did you know Miss Bloodmire teaches the warding classes?”

  No wonder so many students disappeared with Vega as the teacher for their most important class.

  “If you want to learn magic, we should start with something simple and work our way up to wards,” he suggested.

  “Oh. Yeah, I guess that’s a good idea. I was just hoping to learn to protect myself sooner.” I tried not to let my disappointment show.

  “How about this? I’ll construct a few extra wards around you, just something small to bounce student curses off you. The problem with these kind of wards is they don’t last long. I’d have to renew it in a couple days.”

  “That sounds like a lot of work,” I said. “For you, I mean.”

  He winked. “I don’t mind if you’re willing to put up with spending time with me.”

  After his duty was over, he escorted me back to his classroom and performed a spell. It took half an hour of sitting still in a chair as he muttered incantations. At first, I didn’t feel any different, but slowly pressure built around me. Magic fluttered in my belly, nudging my abdomen like it wanted to escape. Even through my closed eyes I kept seeing red, and my mouth tasted like cherries and strawberries. I felt hungry and thirsty and full of yearning like I’d never experienced before. My arms and legs wanted to move, to run and do cartwheels, but I suspected I was supposed to sit still and meditate.