Hex Appeal: A Hexy Witch Mystery (Womby's School for Wayward Witches Book 15)

by Sarina Dorie

  I shifted, the movement setting my arm on fire.

  He took in a sharp breath, no doubt drinking in my pain. “Do you know why I disapprove of what you’ve done with Vega?”

  For a moment, I feared he had found out about our plan to help Maddy conceive.

  He went on. “It’s bad enough you’ve turned Vega into a monstrosity to be used by Fae. But I cannot fathom why you allowed her to corrupt you and tempt you with wickedness. You will fall down the same path as your mother, and I don’t know how to stop it.”

  The words stung. Did he truly believe that about me? “I’m not wicked. I didn’t kill or hurt people.” I thought of that moment with Maddy when I had felt something inside me shift. I’d felt predatory and feral like someone about to pounce on prey.

  Thatch stared into my face, the gray of his eyes his normal gloomy self. “Alouette Loraline knew my magic better than anyone. I trusted her completely. Unquestioningly. I would have done anything for her. I let her use my pain magic when she asked. Why wouldn’t I? She had never allowed me to lose control. I’d never seen her lose control.

  “But that was it. I’d never learned the limitations of her magic. I didn’t know her weaknesses. Her experiments seemed harmless, an exploitation of electrical energy harnessed by several of us with Red affinities. She thought we could use our magic to help restore fertility to any Fae or Witchkin.”

  The light from the flames of the sconce flickered across his face, giving the illusion of expression, but there was none. “She was wrong. Her magic killed Fae and Witchkin alike. It turned her need for magic into an addiction. She became . . . cruel, like someone without a soul. She killed her subjects, torturing them and draining them of magic. I thought she spared me because she loved me, because she wanted me. She made me watch as she used my magic on them to harvest my affinity. I enjoyed their pain, even as I hated myself for it.” His face crumpled at this before smoothing again. “She fed me tainted magic because she knew my weakness. She controlled me with my own magic, and I made no effort to resist her. Even after everything I saw her do to others, I was blind to how she used me.”

  Alouette Loraline sounded like a drug dealer taking advantage of one of her client’s addictions to benefit herself. I loathed her more than ever.

  “It was my idea to take the blame for what had happened. Or that’s what I thought at the time. She convinced me that if I stalled so she could escape, they would arrest me, probably torture me—which would give me more power—and she would free me. We would be together then, just as I’d always yearned. I wanted love—her love and respect—more than life itself. More than other people’s lives.”

  He’d told me some of this before. I craved to understand him, but each time he told me about my biological mother, I feared he would tell me something worse. Not about the heinous deeds she had performed. My greatest anxiety always came back to the idea that he had been intimate with her and loved her more than he loved me. Yet each time, he denied both.

  I waited for him to continue. I waited for him to confirm my fears.

  His face was as stiff as a wooden mask. “I let the other teachers find me. I allowed the Witchkin Council to ferry me away. I waited for my interrogation. For my trial. They didn’t torture me. Nor did they even question me. They locked me in a cell made of iron far below the ground. Cold iron has never been my weakness as it is for many Witchkin, but it isn’t a strength either.

  “Alouette Loraline never came.

  “Jebediah Bumblebub was the one who came for me. He had been my teacher at Womby’s and my colleague during the time we’d both been employed as teachers. During those years, he had turned a blind eye to Loraline’s experiments. I thought his motive was because he wanted her to gain an upper hand over Fae oppressors. I didn’t count on him being in the debt of the Princess of Lies and Truth or working as her spy.”

  Yes, we’d only discovered that detail recently. It had changed my entire view of the eccentric cowboy wizard and former school principal.

  Thatch ran a hand through his ink-black locks. “I had never suspected anything was amiss with Jeb. He had acted as a caring and grandfatherly Witchkin would. He grew more apprehensive about Loraline’s experiments. By the time she turned, he had implemented safeguards, spies, and wards to warn him if harm came to anyone.

  “He replayed the images recorded from magic mirrors for the council. He interviewed students and teachers, advocating for me when no one else would. He didn’t believe I was capable of torturing all those people—even after I confessed what I was. Mr. Khaba would have spoken out more if it hadn’t been for Jeb.”

  When I’d first been hired, I had thought Jeb’s patience had been endless from the way he had humored Thatch. A thousand times, I’d seen him treat Thatch with such kindness and pity, more like a misunderstood student than a colleague. He had made great efforts to excuse Thatch as he had lashed out at me. Jeb had pushed Thatch to mentor me. Every effort had seemed to be out of kindness.

  When I’d found the note from the Princess of Lies and Truth, I thought it had shown the former principal had been toying with Felix Thatch, to reopen his old wounds. Now I could see his reasons had been more practical than that. Jeb had never gotten ahold of Alouette Loraline’s secrets. He’d hoped Thatch might confide in me or I might prove I could solve her mysteries.

  And I had. Vega was the living proof. I wasn’t certain Jeb had known about what she’d done or whether he’d thought he needed my body so that he could sire an army. I still didn’t know if this was Quenylda’s directive or his own. She might not have wanted her brother-husband to sire inferior half-Witchkin children, but it didn’t mean she wouldn’t exploit others if they had Red affinities.

  Elric had never updated me on the results of Quenylda’s trial and whether it had yet come to pass. Their father, King Viridios of the Silver Court, would be lenient on her if she had committed these crimes under his orders. If she had intended to create an army of her own and overthrow her parents, but he didn’t know, he also might be lenient out of ignorance.

  I touched the amulet, wishing I could call Elric and tell him what I suspected without losing my soul for summoning him in the process.

  “Jeb got the truth of it out of me, eventually,” Thatch said, staring into the shadows of the forgotten corridor. “Or enough of it that I admitted I hadn’t been behind Alouette Loraline’s experiments. The Witchkin Council only released me under the condition that Jeb keep an eye on me, which he did. They feared my ‘Celestor’ magic might have been poisoned by black magic. It was Jeb who ensured my freedom.”

  I hated to interrupt him, afraid he might not go on, but I had to correct any lingering loyalty he might still feel for Jeb. “The Princess of Lies and Truth ensured your freedom.” So that Thatch could lead her followers to my mother to kill her. “She did it to use you.”

  “You are starting to see how Witchkin are but pawns in this game played by the Fae.” A brief flicker of a smile touched his lips before fading away. “You do realize the Witchkin Council was right about me. I have had a taste of pain magic. I cannot be trusted. Can you imagine what our colleagues will say once they discover that I reverted to pain magic once again? Not only that I used it on you, but I couldn’t stop myself. I would have given you more than a hairline fracture if you hadn’t stopped me.”

  “I’m not going to tell anyone.”

  The gloom of the empty hall pressed in on me, or perhaps it was Thatch’s melancholy. I was too tired to decipher my feelings from his that I might be accidentally picking up.

  “You should,” he said.

  I didn’t want to think about the monster he became in those moments when he lost control. It reminded me too much of myself when I lost control. I shifted on the wooden bench, and pain stabbed again through my arm.

  He frowned, his gaze flickering to the spot where it hurt the most. “Give me your arm. I’ll heal you. Or more accurately, your energy will heal you. I know i
t’s difficult for you to stop pain once it’s begun.”

  He scooted closer. I forced myself not to flinch away. I tried not to think about his fingers digging into my flesh. That wasn’t him. It was the hunger for pain inside him that had done that. I hugged my good arm around myself.

  I could do this, I told myself. Still, I couldn’t make myself move.

  “Please,” he said. The hurt in his eyes was a bottomless pit. “Trust me.”

  Throbbing started up as I moved my arm onto his outstretched hands. Immediately the pain decreased the moment his flesh came in contact with me. I watched his expression, somber and calm. He didn’t look like he was in the midst of experiencing a pain-gasm.

  His fingers smoothed up and down my arm. “I’m going to remove your sleeve.”

  My muscles tensed, imagining he was about to rip my clothes off. Instead he pulled at a loose thread, and the entire sleeve of my fleece jacket dropped away from the shoulder. He slid it off my arm, revealing the purple blossoms of bruises on my freckled arm. He skimmed his fingers over my flesh, barely touching the skin. I hadn’t noticed the blood caked under his short fingernails earlier. Whether it was his own blood or mine, I couldn’t tell.

  “Breathe,” he said.

  I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath. I exhaled, and tension left my stomach. He cradled my arm across his chest, smoothing his hand against my arm. A jolt of sensation awakened inside me before subsiding. My arm tingled under his touch, but the hot-cold prickles faded before sliding up to my shoulder.

  “Your affinity is protecting you from me.” Thatch swallowed. “Can you open yourself to me?”

  Now that he mentioned it, I could feel the blockage in the current inside me. Magic was clotted at my shoulder and around my heart and other organs as if my subconscious had suspected an attack on vital organs and readied itself to prevent it. My fatigue made it hard to visualize what was happening inside me, and harder still to focus on relaxing the energies. I used my breath to vanquish the unconscious warding.

  He continued stroking my skin. The purple circles faded. He dipped his head down and kissed the inside of my elbow. Hot and cold waves danced over my skin. Goosebumps rose on my arm. His teeth grazed my wrist and his tongue raked upward. I leaned my head against his shoulder.

  His lips met mine. He tasted clean and smooth. Lemony fragrance washed over me. I would have used another cleaning spell on me too after close encounters with the septic tank monster and vomiting into my hair.

  I slid a hand over the stubble on his cheek, savoring the sensation. He circled his arms around me, drawing me closer. He scooped me up and set me on his lap. One of his thumbs hooked the edge of my sock and slid it down over my heel. He left it there as he cupped my ankle. I’d forgotten about spraining it.

  I bent my knee and set my foot on the bench. I didn’t want to fall under the seduction of my affinity, but even with training, I never seemed to be able to resist. I was just as much of a junkie as he was. How could I blame him when I had hurt people in the past because I hadn’t been able to stop myself from having sex? I’d been compelled to kiss men and yearned for touch—even after lightning had struck and storms had raged.

  I was the reason Derrick had been lost twice and finally died.

  I turned to face him, straddling his lap. “I can stop at any time,” I said into his mouth. I wanted it to be true, but that didn’t mean it was.

  “You can. And when you can’t, I will be here to help you set boundaries and control your powers.” He ground his erection up against me.

  So much for boundaries.

  He pulled away an inch to speak. “There’s a hundred reasons this is a bad idea.”

  “And one good one.”

  His face was somber. “Indeed. To refuel your affinity.”

  “I was going to say that we love each other.” I wished I had been better at showing him that for the last few weeks. So many times he’d wanted to express touch without it being a lesson. He’d wanted to be intimate and love me. I was the one who had been cold and distant.

  I would do anything to fix that now. I wanted to show him how much I loved him. How I trusted him. I kissed him again.

  His lips trailed across my jaw. “If you are going to survive this, we need to build your strength.”

  He lifted me off his lap and set me on the length of the bench. He must have used magic because I didn’t have to tug and shimmy out of my jeans. They came off easily. I slid my panties down my legs and deposited them on the floor. This wasn’t at all weird, I told myself. Lots of people were almost killed by giant poop snakes, had deep revelations about their relationships, and then had sex afterward.

  He slid an arm under my neck and pillowed my head from the hard wood of the bench. I stared into the gray of his eyes, no longer swallowed whole by pain magic. It brought me comfort knowing he was himself.

  He fed me measured rations of kisses. I wasn’t sure whether this was about him being practical, arousing me to bring out my magic to make me stronger so I could face the Raven Queen, or this moment was an expression of love.

  A last expression of love? I didn’t want to think about fate and prophecies right now.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him greedily, with the passion of someone knowing she might never see the love of her life again. He eased into me slowly, teasingly. I was wet with desire for him. A thrill surged through my core as he made his way deeper, filling me. Each thrust was deliberate and controlled, as gentle as our first time together, as if to make up for the earlier pain magic. He kissed my neck and face. His breath was warm against my flesh. Electric currents danced under my skin. My affinity roiled inside me as though a storm were brewing. Rainbows and sunshine collided with storm clouds. Matter and antimatter wrestled.

  This wasn’t my typical sexual response. Especially not after months of demonstrating control over my magic. The swelling sensations inside me were more like that time I’d been with Julian and killed him with a firebolt after he’d tried to assault me.

  It had to be a reaction to the earlier pain magic.

  “Lightning,” I panted.

  “I know,” he said. “It’s what I was counting on.”

  I would have pondered what he meant by that if I hadn’t been so distracted.

  Lightning flashed, blinding me. A surge of pleasure jolted through me. My back arched. I cried out in ecstasy. Thatch thrust deeper, and I clutched him to me, the orgasm deliriously delicious.

  Electrical magic crackled under my skin, cycling into him and back into me. It reminded me of a generator building up electricity. We were a closed circuit, a vehicle of magic, only the magic he fed back to me was altered. It was lighter, cleaner, and easier to process. I felt it flooding into my limbs and soothing the inflammation around my injuries.

  He kissed my temple and rested his face in my hair, his breath rushing against my cheek. His weight sank against me, pinning me underneath him. I could barely breathe, but I didn’t want him to move. This closeness felt too nice. His body convulsed against mine. I couldn’t tell whether he was having an orgasm or he was having a seizure from having a bolt of lightning shot at him.

  I patted his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  “Indeed.” He eased himself out of me and lifted a fraction of his weight off of me. He smoothed a hand up and down my arm. “How are you? Have you any remaining injuries?”

  I moved my arm. It didn’t hurt anymore. Neither did my ankle or anything else. He must have only anaesthetized it earlier. It had taken a larger dose of magic to do real healing.

  “I’m good,” I said.

  He sat up and readjusted his pants. “Our magical . . . outburst may have alerted the Raven Court of our presence. Are you still intent on rescuing your fairy godmother? It isn’t too late to leave the way we came.”

  “We need to find my mom and rescue her.” I scanned the floor for my panties, nestled on the floor among dust bunnies. I
shook them off and dressed. One of my sleeves was missing from when Thatch had removed it to numb my arm. I didn’t see it in the shadows.

  “Are you still willing to do anything to find Abigail Lawrence and see her to safety?” he asked.

  “Yes.” I felt for the lozenge in my jeans pocket under my lacy dress. It was still there. “I mean, almost anything. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you in the process.”

  “Indeed. We are both in agreement on that.” He stood, staring off toward the distance. “It appears it is time for plan B.”

  “We don’t have a plan B.”

  “We do now.”

  Magic condensed in the hallway, shimmering and swirling. I suspected he was right about them detecting us.

  He touched my chin, turning me away from the force in the hallway to look into his eyes. “Do you still hate me?”

  “No. I didn’t hate you before.” I’d been angry. That had been the pain talking. “I’m sorry about earlier. I know you were just being practical.”

  “Are you still afraid of me?” He untied his cravat from around his neck and hesitated, the length of fabric in his hands.

  “No.”

  It was an interesting moment to ask that question. I wondered if he intended to use the cravat as a restraint, then dismissed the idea. We’d discussed this in the past. I didn’t like being tied up.

  He raised an eyebrow as if doubtful. His voice was too loud for the emptiness of the hallway. “You still haven’t learned.”

  Those words struck me like a blow. He took my hands and tied them together.

  “What are you doing?” I tried to step back, but I found my feet rooted to the ground. My arms wouldn’t move.

  He spoke in an emotionless monotone, enunciating each word with crisp precision. “I am teaching you a lesson for being too trusting.”