by Sarina Dorie
“We talked about this. It isn’t going to help us if you make enemies,” Abigail said. “If you don’t behave, I’ll put a muzzle on you and keep you in the cat carrier.” It was an idle threat. She hadn’t brought either, but she would find a way to keep him from lashing out if he continued to misbehave.
Abigail crouched beside Sam. “Are you all right?”
He flinched back from her. She didn’t blame him. She was still holding Lucifer.
“I’m so sorry about this. My familiar has a difficult time with strangers. He’s overprotective.” Jealous, in this case, but she didn’t say that. “It looks like he’s scratched your face and hands.” She shifted Sam’s curly hair out of his eyes. Lucifer hadn’t scratched his eyes at least.
Lucifer batted her hand. No doubt he didn’t like her touching the other man.
Sam inched back. “I’m fine. I’ve got a few tree familiars. I know how protective familiars can be.” He laughed, but his eyes were wary now.
“I’ve got a bit of salve in my bag.” She stood.
“You don’t need to go to any trouble for me.” He wiped at the blood on his jaw. “I’m fine. Really. I get worse injuries weeding blackberries.”
“It isn’t any trouble.” She left him and went to her suitcase, which had fallen over. She found the ointment she’d made in the front pocket. She dug deeper in the bag, pulling out a tin of brownies. She’d specifically kept them separated from the ones in the airtight Tupperware and Ziplocs because she knew how sensitive some Fae and Witchkin were when it came to plastics, BHT, and Morty chemicals.
She set Lucifer down. “Stay here and guard my bags. You’re going to be a good boy for me, won’t you?”
He leapt up onto one of the suitcases and sprawled across it. She gave him a scritch behind the ears to show him she appreciated his efforts.
“I’m fine,” Sam said again, eyeing the jar and metal tin with suspicion.
Everyone could be bribed by a taste of heaven if one knew what tempted their hearts. Abigail hoped brownies were the temptation that would lull Sam into complacency. She opened the treasure box of goodies.
His eyes lit up, and he inhaled deeply. “Is that coconut and pecans?”
She handed him the box. He selected one. He moaned upon tasting her earthquake cake brownies. He ate as she applied a green smear of ointment to his injuries. A spoonful of sugar had distracted her two daughters when she’d treated their booboos as well.
Especially when it had contained a hint of magic to make them complacent.
“Your salve smells like lavender and honey,” Sam said.
“That’s to mask the garlic. I use that to prevent infection, though the honey has antibacterial properties as well.” She dabbed more salve onto the backs of his hands. “And the honey helps bind the herbs together.”
“I bet I’m going to look ridiculous returning to school with green smears all over me.” He laughed. He didn’t sound too broken up about it.
Abigail found herself smiling along with him. Now that she’d seen Sam’s vulnerable side, and witnessed he could be taken down by a cat, she could see he didn’t pose a threat. And anyone who fell under the spell of her brownies wasn’t likely to attack her—unless it was to obtain her recipe.
Lucifer butted his head up against her leg, nudging himself between her and Sam. He wasn’t going to aid her in gaining allies at her daughter’s school. Abigail hoped he wouldn’t cause more problems, but she knew him well enough to suspect he would.
CHAPTER FOUR
Something Fishy
The school was a strange mishmash of architecture, parts of it medieval, Gothic, and modern attesting to the stages that it had been built over time. The building looked like a sickly weed, each wing that stretched out from the center asymmetrical and unbalanced.
The principal and a man Abigail suspected must be the dean of discipline by his hot-pink shirt greeted her on the front steps of the school after she and Sam hauled her luggage through the woods, across a portal from the Morty Realm into the Unseen Realm, through more forest, and onto school property.
Teenagers in gray-and-black school uniforms walked by, eyeing Abigail with curiosity. The school looked like what she imagined a private school would look like, not that she’d ever been to one herself.
Abigail pushed Lucifer’s head down and zipped her purse up so he wouldn’t be able to leap out and claw the school’s administrative staff. She left a corner open so that Lucifer could poke his muzzle out to breathe.
The dean stared at her purse, his eyebrows knit together.
Her daughter had spoken highly of these men. Clarissa hadn’t mentioned that Mr. Khaba, the dean, was a pureblooded Fae. It was difficult to tell how much his hot-pink shirt glittered from magic and how much was because it was made with metallic threads. He was bald, his dark skin and accent placing his heritage somewhere in the Middle East, or somewhere equivalent in the Faerie Realm.
Principal Jedediah Ebenezer Bumblebub was just as Clarissa had described in her letters, a cowboy wizard. Even the brim of his pointed witch hat was shaped like a Stetson’s. A red bandana peeked out from under his snow-white beard, his mustache was curled at the ends like a cartoon villain’s, and he wore the largest belt buckle she’d ever seen, though his large belly hid most of it.
“It’s a delight to make your acquaintance,” Principal Bumblebub said in a Texan accent, shaking her hand.
Lucifer’s paw darted out of her purse, ready to slash at the man’s hand.
“It’s nice to meet you.” Abigail shifted her purse to her other shoulder and pushed his paw back inside. “How is my daughter? Is she all right?”
“She’s recoverin’ just fine,” the principal said. “I’ll escort you down to see her in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”
The principal introduced the dean. Mr. Khaba’s palm tingled against hers as he shook her hand, his Fae magic so powerful it made Abigail’s eyes water.
Lucifer hissed. Abigail yanked her hand back from Mr. Khaba, holding on to the cat to keep him in check. She couldn’t understand why an institution concerned about the welfare of children would hire a powerful Fae who might put those children in danger.
Mr. Khaba’s smile faltered as his gaze flickered to a black paw slashing at the air. “We don’t allow pets on the premises.”
“I traveled all day to get here. I don’t have anywhere else to keep my familiar.” Abigail glanced at the ominous stone structure of the school, feeling the weight of responsibilities pressing in on her.
Lucifer wasn’t a pet. He wasn’t even a true familiar, not that she trusted these men with that information. She was uncomfortably aware of the way Mr. Khaba eyed Lucifer. Perhaps it would have been safer if she had left Lucifer at home where he would be farther from the Fae who would harm him, but she suspected he would have tried to follow her.
The principal chuckled, his belly jiggling like a bowl of jelly under his brown flannel shirt. “Come now, partner. I reckon a witch needs her familiar.”
There was something odd about the principal—besides the fact that he was a cowboy wizard. His accent wasn’t quite right for being Texan. He was too much of a caricature, his cheerfulness forced.
Mr. Khaba eyed Lucifer with disdain. “It specifically says in the code of conduct, students and staff are not to keep pets on school grounds.”
He was going to be a stickler for rules. Abigail knew how Fae liked to use rules to their advantage. The wording of a bargain, wish, or rule would always be to their advantage.
Abigail lifted her chin. “I am not a staff member or student. I am a guest.”
The principal winked at her. “It don’t say nothin’ about guests of staff, does it?”
“No.” Mr. Khaba’s lips pressed into a line. “But I advise against it.”
She had gotten in on a loophole. If Mr. Khaba was anything like the vindictive Fae she had met in the past, he wouldn’t allow her to get away freely
.
“Don’t you worry, darlin’.” Principal Bumblebub winked at her and slapped the other man on the back. “He’s all cattle and no hat.”
Abigail stared at him, puzzled.
Khaba grimaced. “I believe the expression is ‘all hat and no cattle.’”
Abigail had worked hard to lose her accent and build a persona of normalcy when she’d journeyed to the Morty Realm so that she wouldn’t stand out. She knew how to spot a faker. She didn’t believe the principal’s dumb act for one minute. It was about as real as his accent, though she couldn’t imagine why he would want to adopt the persona of a fool.
“How about you let this business about pets slide, partner?” The principal elbowed Mr. Khaba. “Mrs. Lawrence has already got her familiar here with her. We’ll ask her to leave her cat home next time, eh?”
Mr. Khaba crossed his arms. “As you wish, sir.” The dean turned away.
The ink outline of a tattoo was visible on the back of his neck, just above the pink collar. It was an image that resembled Aladdin’s lamp.
This man was a djinn, the most powerful of the Fae. He granted wishes. Though from his stern expression and narrowed eyes, it was unlikely he would grant Abigail a wish.
Abigail glanced down at Lucifer. If she could ask for one thing in the world, there was one wish she would ask, not for herself, but for him. Being a stickler for rules, Mr. Khaba would ask for a price in exchange for granting a wish—if she convinced him to do so.
Most likely it would require a great sacrifice from her. As much as she wanted Lucifer to regain his human form, she also feared what kind of tithe Khaba would collect from her if she approached him about making such a wish.
CHAPTER FIVE
Scaredy-Cat
Abigail stifled a cry as she caught sight of her daughter’s appearance. Her hands were wrapped in bandages, and her lips were black with scabs. The distinct charred odor wafting from the bed suggested she’d been burned. Her pink hair spilled across the pillow, unusually tangled and frizzy.
Abigail stole forward, hardly daring to breathe.
Clarissa was asleep in a luxurious canopy bed that made her petite frame appear even smaller. As Abigail sat on the edge of the bed next to her, her daughter didn’t stir.
Lucifer leapt onto the foot of the bed, but he didn’t need to be told to stay back. He sat on the edge, his ears occasionally twitching as he eyed the room. He reminded Abigail of a guardian, tall and regal, a feral angel looking out for her daughter.
Whoever had tended to her daughter’s wounds had been competent in wrapping the wounds. Abigail picked up a jar of salve on the nightstand, inhaling the aroma of comfrey, calendula, and what she suspected was Hypericum perforatum. The medicinal blend confirmed her suspicions her daughter had been burned. Whoever had made the salve knew herbs as well as any hedge witch or healer.
It reassured her someone was taking care of her daughter.
Abigail unpacked, arranging therapeutic plants around the windowless room, setting out her daughter’s favorite art supplies, and tiptoeing to the bathroom to set out her toiletries. The mosaics in the water closet rivaled the craftsmanship and beauty of a Roman palace. She peeked at the attached personal spa room with a miniature waterfall, hot spring, and exotic collection of plants. Despite the lack of windows, the room emanated light from a magical source. True, the dungeon she’d walked through to get to Clarissa’s room was a bit moldy, but once she made it past the creepy museum of historic torture instruments—and the classroom full of desks and chairs that resembled modern torture devices—she found the living quarters spacious and the furnishings elegant. It wasn’t at all what she expected from a school with the severe budget cuts her daughter had spoken of.
As Abigail opened the bag of brownies, the heavenly aroma of chocolate filled the room. Clarissa stirred. Lucifer meowed, nodding toward her.
Abigail seated herself on the edge of the bed. Clarissa’s eyes fluttered open.
“How’s my baby?” Abigail asked.
Clarissa managed a weak smile. “Everything is perfect now that you’re here. How was the trip?”
Abigail considered telling her about her misadventure with Lucifer and the groundskeeper but decided to save that for another time. She smoothed her daughter’s pink hair out of her eyes and kissed her forehead. She wanted to sit Clarissa on her lap like she used to when she was a child and to make her promise to stay away from witches and bad people who used magic, but Clarissa was now grown up. She had chosen her path. A dangerous path.
Tears filled Abigail’s eyes. “I missed you, honey.”
“I missed you too, Mom.” Clarissa inhaled deeply. “You smell like chocolate.”
Abigail laughed. “I brought your favorite.” She set the brownies on a plate and brought them to her daughter.
Clarissa selected the largest one with her bandaged hand. “Thank you, Mom! You’re the best!”
“That nice professor asked me to bring you brownies when he called. I take it you shared a few with him from the way he raved about my baking.”
Clarissa choked. Abigail brought her a glass of water. Abigail fluffed her daughter’s pillows and rearranged her blankets, trying to make her more comfortable. Lucifer kept to the shadows. Slowly he stalked toward the plate of brownies.
“Chocolate isn’t good for cats,” Abigail said, shaking her head at him.
He meowed pitifully.
Clarissa flinched, seeing Lucifer for the first time. “Why did you bring Lucifer with you?”
“What do you mean? Why wouldn’t I bring him?”
Clarissa tried to cross her arms, but she winced and stopped. “Because he’s evil.”
Lucifer’s eyes narrowed.
Abigail picked him up. “Don’t say that about him. It hurts his feelings.” She petted his head before setting him on the floor. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” At least he had been once. These days, it was hard to say.
Clarissa rolled her eyes. “He’s probably going to rake his claws against my wounds in my sleep.”
“He will not!”
“Remember the time he gouged his claws into my hand when I was a teenager?”
Abigail offered Clarissa the plate of brownies, hoping her daughter would be soothed by the chocolate and kitchen magic she’d infused into them. “That was because you were reading those Lord of the Rings books after I told you not to. He was trying to protect you from obsessing over magic.”
Clarissa set her brownie down. “And the time he peed on Missy’s cheer bag?”
The mention of Abigail’s other adopted daughter made her heart ache. For all her interventions, she hadn’t been able to save Missy from going down the path of dark magic. “Missy had something in her bag she was using to hex someone. He was trying to prevent her from using magic.”
Abigail knew her familiar could be ornery, but usually he was trying to help. It was just hard to express oneself when claws and teeth were the easiest means of communication. If only Abigail could have been a powerful enough witch to turn him back to his true form.
“What about the time he scratched Dad in the face? Was he trying to hex someone?” Clarissa’s eyes were heavy with fatigue.
Abigail frowned down at him. Lucifer slouched, guilt in his frame. Whenever Adam had been the victim of an attack, Lucifer’s motivation had been out of jealousy. Her late husband had been a saint putting up with Lucifer. Abigail’s heart played a note of regret, thinking about him. He’d been a good husband and father. He hadn’t deserved Lucifer’s wrath.
When Abigail looked back at her daughter, she found her eyes were closed. She found a napkin and dabbed at the chocolate from the corner of her mouth and washed her sticky fingers just as she had when she’d been a child.
Lucifer butted his head against her leg.
She stroked him behind the ears. “You will be careful with Clarissa and her injuries, won’t you? I don’t need you trying to keep her fro
m using magic now that she’s learning how to control it.”
He purred against her. Now that Abigail had returned to this realm, she was surrounded by magic. Surely there had to be witches here who didn’t eat children and curse teenagers into the form of an animal as a punishment. Someone out there must know the remedy to his curse. But that meant she would have to reveal what he was to someone, why he’d been punished, and the reason Baba Nata wanted him so badly.
Abigail feared the danger of revealing his secrets to the wrong person.
CHAPTER SIX
What the Cat Dragged In
Abigail sat at her daughter’s bedside as Clarissa slept. Eventually Professor Felix Thatch came in, dressed in a gray tweed suit that made him appear more like a shadow than a man.
He closed the door quietly and stopped abruptly upon seeing her. “Mrs. Lawrence, I beg your pardon for not coming sooner. The principal hadn’t informed me of your arrival.” His accent was refined and British. He spoke formally, like someone trained to be proper in every way. Lucifer had spoken with a similar accent. They probably hailed from the same province in the Unseen Realm.
Abigail nodded, trying to think of something nice to say, but she couldn’t. Every muscle in her body tensed. She told herself this man wouldn’t have called her over the phone to inform her about her daughter’s condition if he hadn’t wanted her here, but her last encounter with him in the Morty Realm had been less than friendly.
From Mr. Thatch’s rigid posture to his immaculate suit, everything about him was precise—all save for his wild mane of dark hair that he’d tamed by cutting it shoulder length. He was young and beautiful in the otherworldly way many descended from Fae often were, though it was hard to say how much of his features were from a glamour and how much was natural.
Lucifer hissed. Abigail picked him up.
Felix Thatch’s gaze flickered to Lucifer and then the plants, his lips turning down. “I see you’ve brought your trusty familiar.” He set a glass jar full of amber fluid on the dresser next to the plate of brownies.
