Witches Gone Wicked

by Sarina Dorie

The revelation solidified in my mind. I knew what I had to do to ground myself.

  “We could get tattoos.” Neurons flashed in my brain, dazzling me with my own brilliance. I could solve two problems at once. A tattoo would be painful. The needless pricked the skin and could draw the rune with a virgin’s blood—my blood.

  Josie frowned. “I don’t want a tattoo. They’re supposed to hurt like crazy.”

  I wasn’t ready to be dissuaded. “What if I get the rune tattooed on me? Wouldn’t it be more powerful if it was permanent?”

  A spider scuttled across the table, up Josie’s fingers tapping against the wood, and over her sleeve to the corner where it crawled up the wall.

  “It’s possible,” she said. “I’ve heard of people carving wards into their flesh, though I’ve never done it. Are you sure you want something that permanent?”

  “I can make it pretty. I’m an artist. I was sketching the other day, and I made a little doodle that I thought would be a good tattoo. I’ll blend them together.”

  She eyed me skeptically. “A spa would be more fun.”

  I tried another tactic. “Sometimes I hear about people getting tattoos as rites of passage: graduating college, having a child, or achieving some goal. I’ve never celebrated becoming a teacher. This would be perfect.”

  Josie scrunched up her face, still not convinced.

  “We can go to the movies afterward.”

  “Yeah, okay.” She drained the last of her wine. “Khaba can’t stay away from the school for more than a couple hours. I don’t know if he does movies or there’s too much technology and electronics. I’ll ask if he’ll come with us. The principal won’t mind.” She winked at me. “Khaba always manages to get Jeb behind his schemes.”

  I tried not to laugh, remembering the clandestine romance I’d stumbled upon. “I’ll bet he does.” He knew how to kiss up to the principal.

  Outside Happy Hal’s we found Khaba speaking with Julian and a red-haired man with elf ears. Julian’s eyes met mine, and his grin widened. It was hard to look at him without thinking about kissing his perfect lips.

  I waved, uncertain. He and I hadn’t spoken much since the unicorns, the one exception being the night the students had stolen the answer keys. I still didn’t know what had happened that night and how we’d gotten separated.

  On the way back to school, Khaba and Josie walked ahead of Julian and me. Our feet crunched over autumn leaves almost drowning out Khaba’s whispers to Josie.

  “I don’t understand it, but when I use my djinn magic to see the present, the truth is hazy. The future is uncertain. When I ask if the answer keys were stolen, the answer is ‘no.’ When I ask if the students have them, the answer is ‘no.’ Oddly, the signs keep pointing to Miss Lawrence, but what role she has in finding them is unclear. A strong magic is interfering with mine. Something Fae.”

  Josie glanced over her shoulder at me. “A curse? Like the one Pro Ro might have cast on her?”

  Julian leaned closer to me. “What are they talking about? Why would Pro Ro cast a spell on you?”

  “I don’t know.” I had a feeling that curse, the reason they couldn’t see the missing answer keys, and my affinity problems were all related.

  Julian linked his arm through mine. My belly cramped. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but I didn’t want to lead him on either. Until my magical maladies were solved, I wasn’t going to have a boyfriend. I pretended I had a rock in my shoe and drew my arm away from his. Separating myself from his warmth was torture.

  Sunlight peeked through the golden canopy and flickered onto his cheery face. He was more handsome than usual in this light, his features too smooth and perfect to be real. He reminded me of a Neo-classical painting.

  “I’ve been hoping I might catch you alone,” I said. “But there was so much chaos this week and everyone is still going on about the missing answer keys.”

  He stopped, and his eyebrows rose expectantly. “I’ve been hoping to speak with you as well. How did we get separated? One minute you were behind me, and then next you were gone.”

  “I was about to ask you the same question.” It appeared he didn’t have any more answers than I did. “What about the hallway of spy windows? Have you looked at me through the mirrors?”

  “What mirrors and windows do you mean?” His brow crinkled in confusion.

  “After we got separated, there was that hallway of mirrors.”

  He shook his head. “I didn’t see any hallway.”

  “What about that moment in the wardrobe?” I didn’t even know what I wanted to say or ask. “It was different. Nice. It wasn’t like the other times you’ve touched me that my magic wanted to overwhelm me.” If Pro Ro had cast a spell on me, theoretically he might be draining me, which would deplete my extra magic and change how my body reacted in relation to men. Or the adrenalin in that moment could have done something to my affinity.

  “The wardrobe?” he asked.

  “Yeah, when you saved me from falling into the portal and were hugging me to your chest.” I closed my eyes, remembering the comfort of his arms. It had been exactly what I’d needed. “I can’t stop thinking about it.” For the last three days I’d been fantasizing about that hug. Not in a sexual way. I simply found contentment in the way my affinity hadn’t gone all haywire for once.

  He stared in confusion. “Err… .”

  My confidence faltered. “That was you, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, of course, it was.” He smoothed a hand over my hair. “I just don’t know what it was that was any different.”

  I hesitated, wondering if I was moving into dangerous territory. “I’ll show you.” I glanced at Josie and Khaba making their way farther down the path. I tugged Julian behind a tree that would shield us from view.

  “Oh, um… .” he laughed, sounding nervous. He glanced around as if afraid of being caught.

  I pressed Julian up against a fir tree and folded his arms over me in an approximation of the way they’d held me that night. I pressed my body to his. I leaned my cheek against his vest and placed my hands on his chest. He stood still. It was nice, but not the same.

  For one thing, we weren’t coated in oil paint.

  “I think your spine might have been more rigid,” I said.

  He straightened. “Was this what I did?” He sounded eager, like a puppy who would do anything for a treat.

  It didn’t change. I squirmed a little more to the right. That still wasn’t it.

  “It’s close,” I said. All the mechanics were the same, but I didn’t feel the comfortable security he’d given me that night.

  He held me for a moment like that. His hand slid up my spine, and his fingers grazed my neck just above me collar. A spike of white-hot energy shot through my core, tearing through me, before subsiding. I gasped at the pain of it.

  “Clarissa!” Josie called. “Where are you?”

  I waved my hand from behind the tree. I drew away from Julian and stepped out.

  Khaba placed a hand on his hip and wagged a finger at me in mock scolding. “Hurry up, slow pokes.” From the way he winked, I wondered if that was a pun.

  I ran to catch up with my friends.

  Khaba raised his eyebrow. “Running errands of your own?”

  “Jolly good errands,” Julian said, out of breath.

  I doubted my ‘errand’ was anything near as wonderful as Khaba’s had been earlier. As we walked back, Khaba agreed to chaperone Josie and me into the Morty Realm—but he wouldn’t be able to stay on account of all the toxic substances that would drain his magic. My good mood was cut short when something purple flashed through the trees. Pro Ro skulked in the shadows, reminding me of Professor Quirrell from Harry Potter. He remained far enough back I almost didn’t see him.

  Suspicious much?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  The Master of Pain

  I could hardly contain my excitement for going out with Josie to g
et my protective ward. Early Sunday morning Josie and I sat on the steps out front of the school waiting for Khaba. He was five minutes late. Josie wore a loose bohemian dress that made her look like an earthy witch, even without her hat. I wore a lacy black skirt I’d bought at the thrift store years before and a vintage blouse with puff sleeves. I figured I’d be on some kind of massage table or special chair so I’d worn a pair of knee-length bloomers my mom had sewn for me. The pink bloomers matched my knee high, striped socks. I felt our ensembles were worthy of witches disguising themselves as Morty hipsters.

  “So let’s see it?” Josie asked.

  I showed her my sketch of five yellow stars outlined in purple, placed around a purple rune. I bit my lip, eager to see what she thought. She wound the lavender strand of hair around her finger, her head tilted to the side.

  “Well?” I asked.

  “What’s your affinity? You’ve never said. Are you Celestor?”

  “No. Why do you ask?” I said quickly. If there was anyone I felt like I could trust, it was her, but Thatch had told me not to talk about my affinity.

  “It looks a lot like the affinity symbol for Celestors. You know, the stars. And you included purple, which is also their team color.”

  “Is that bad?”

  “No, it’s just odd. I mean, if you’re Amni Plandai, it’s kind of weird you would want a tattoo that represents a different affinity. It would make more sense if you were getting a flower or a plant.”

  “Oh.” I didn’t think I’d ever told her I was Amni Plandai. I wondered why she assumed that. Maybe I just didn’t seem like an Elementia. Or maybe it was Jeb’s implication I couldn’t be around fertility magic and sex after my past magical catastrophes. There was no way to ask without revealing I wasn’t Amni Plandai.

  “Don’t get me wrong. It’s your body. Do what you want with it. I’m not judging you.”

  “I am,” said Thatch’s cool monotone from behind me.

  I jumped to my feet. I shoved my drawing into my purse. Thatch’s bird perched on his shoulder. Up close, I could see it was twice the size of a normal crow. My eyes flickered to the bird and back to Josie. Did she find it suspicious that Thatch happened to have a pet bird that was closely related to a raven, as in the Raven Court?

  “For once, Miss Kimura is right,” Thatch said. “That isn’t your affinity. Nor are you able to harness the power of the celestial bodies such as the sun, moon or stars as a secondary affinity because you haven’t learned how to do so. Celestors are naturally talented at wards, divination, and the higher arts. Like myself.”

  I liked my design, and I was even more determined to have it tattooed now that he’d disapproved. I crossed my arms, defiant as a teenager. “Maybe I intend to get flowers and snowflakes tattooed on me at a later date to represent the other teams.” What was it about him that brought out the obstinate nature in me?

  He snorted. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “You’ve never gotten a tattoo before. We’ll see if you’re up for that level of pain.” He lifted his bird from his shoulder and nudged it into the air. It took off, circling overhead. White bird poop splattered three inches to my right. Lovely. I dodged back.

  Josie crinkled up her nose in disgust. “Is there some reason you crawled out of your hole in the dungeon? Or was it just to harass us?”

  “Harass? You wound me, Miss Kimura.” He placed a hand over his heart, his eyes full of mock hurt. “Mr. Khaba is occupied with a student detention.” A wicked smile twitched his lips. “I volunteered to chaperone you in his stead.”

  I seriously doubted he would volunteer. Or if he did, he had a reason. Maybe it was just to annoy me. I considered not getting the rune at all.

  Josie shook her head. “We’ll see if someone else is available.”

  “Maybe Coach Kutchi,” Thatch said. “Oh, wait. She has practice with Womby’s promising equestrian athletes. Pity.”

  “Julian could escort us.” When I imagined his handsome face, a wistful smile tugged at my lips.

  “But he isn’t powerful enough to escort you and keep you safe from the Raven Court, is he?” Thatch stroked his chin. “In any case, he’s afraid of electricity and the Morty Realm.”

  My shoulders sagged in disappointment. I’d looked forward to getting this tattoo. Not only was it something I could do to protect myself from being cursed, but it truly represented my rite of passage into the world of magic. Josie patted my back consolingly.

  Thatch grinned. “Face it ladies, you are stuck with me.”

  Josie pointed a finger in his face. “You can’t bully us into agreeing to this. We’ll just stay here.”

  “It makes no different to me if you remain here,” he said. “I have papers to correct.”

  Thatch was a Celestor, which meant he was good at wards, and my tattoo was a ward meant to protect me. Even if he was Mr. Grumpy Face, he was the most obvious choice.

  “Will you help me activate the ward?” I asked.

  He ran a hand through his luscious locks of hair. His expression was pensive, cautious. Maybe it was the lighting, but he looked younger today. He was handsome when he wasn’t scowling.

  “I could,” he said at last.

  I looked to Josie imploringly. “I really want to get off the school grounds for a little while. Come on. It won’t be so bad. I’ll pay for lunch.”

  A devilish grin spread across Thatch’s lips. “How kind of you to offer, Miss Lawrence. I accept.”

  Thatch opened his arms around us in a move that must have come from Count Chocula. “Let us be on our way.”

  Inky swirls twisted around us, whipping my hair in my face and ruffling my clothes. I grabbed onto Josie and shrieked—or tried to anyway. The breath was sucked out of me. As suddenly as the cyclone of weirdness had come, it stopped.

  Thatch leaned against a concrete pillar covered in graffiti, watching us from a near distance. The white noise of traffic swished by above, blending in with the staccato of rain. We appeared to be under an overpass. It should have come as no surprise that a good hidey hole for someone to appear by magic would smell like urine and be littered with beer bottles.

  I skirted around metal cans. Skyscrapers rose beyond our refuge.

  Josie rubbed her arms as if she was wiping away slime. “Ugh! Why did you have to do that teleportation spell? We were going to walk through the forest and take the bus into Forks.”

  Now I would never get a chance to see a close-up of the Podunk town where Edward and Bella had lived in the Twilight novels. Thatch probably enjoyed thwarting our adventures.

  “Come now. Do you really think they have a tattoo parlor, let alone one open on a Sunday?” Thatch drawled. “Besides, Miss Kimura, I thought you used to like it when I used my transportation spell.” He said it in that cloying way of his that was pretend nice.

  Josie clenched her fists, glaring at him. “No, I never liked that spell.” She had to be over a foot shorter than him, but she was formidable.

  “I think the words you once used were, ‘It makes me tingle down to my toes.’” He raised an eyebrow.

  “Shut up.” Her face flushed redder.

  Jeb had said Josie and Thatch had once been friends—or at least Josie had tried to befriend him. Obviously, any amiability that once had blossomed between them had wilted.

  Thatch escorted us out of the refuge and into the rain. Water rolled right off his jacket. It didn’t touch his immaculate windswept hair. A lone black crow watched us from the overhang of a restaurant sign. I hoped it was a crow, not a raven and not his bird, but it was hard to tell. I ducked my chin down and hurried past.

  We followed Thatch along a strip of storefront shops mingled between coffeeshops on a busy street. From the steep hills, people dressed in alternative clothes, and the homeless man smoking weed on the corner, I suspected we were in Seattle. My suspicions were confirmed when I caught sight of the S
pace Needle beyond glass skyscrapers. I stepped under an awning to avoid the drizzle.

  “I know where we are,” Josie said. “I used to live close to here.”

  A neon sign of a tattoo parlor indicated they were open. Thatch pushed his way in, letting the door slam in our faces. He was as far from West Coast nice as one could be.

  I held the door open for Josie as we entered.

  Thatch spoke to the tattooed and pierced receptionist. “We would like to see Hammer.”

  The woman ran a hand across her silver-and-green striped mohawk. “He’s busy with a client. Sofia is available, and Tyrone can see you in half an hour.”

  “Tell Hammer that Felix Thatch is here for his … ” He lifted his sleeve and glanced at his bare wrist. “noon appointment. So sorry I’m running a few minutes late.” He grimaced and waved a hand at Josie and me. “It’s like herding cats.”

  I shook my head at him. He was unbelievable. Even when he was being halfway nice he was a jerk.

  The receptionist checked the calendar, and her eyes widened. “Oh, I’m sorry. You are on the calendar, but he’s seeing someone else. Let me go tell him.”

  “Yes, do that, and be sure to mention my name.”

  The last cases were filled with the most intricate designs. Some reminded me of Pacific island art, others reminded me of Indian henna. The level of artistry and the macabre element interwoven into each design suggested the same artist. Something about them reminded me of Thatch’s sketchbook.

  I was drawn to the swirling patterns of Celtic knotwork mixed with barbed wire. I wasn’t a barbed wire fan, but I could appreciate the detail.

  I pointed to a tattoo with symbols encased inside pentagrams. “Are these runes?”

  Josie came closer.

  “Yeah. It says, ‘I am … pain.’ Huh, weird. This one says, ‘I give you my pain.’ Here’s one that says, ‘I master my pain.’ This one is, ‘Pain is my master.’ The grammar is better than what you’d usually find for a dead language studied by Morties.” She glanced at Thatch who stood farther down the wall, examining a cartoon design of the Tasmanian Devil. “But if this is a shop frequented by Witchkin, it makes sense it would cater to our kind.”