A Handful of Hexes

by Sarina Dorie

  A Handful of

  Hexes

  WOMBY’S SCHOOL FOR WAYWARD WITCHES

  SARINA DORIE

  Copyright © 2018 Sarina Dorie

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 978-1717052346

  ISBN-13: 1717052347

  OTHER BOOKS IN THE womby’s school for wayward witches SERIES listed in order

  Tardy Bells and Witches’ Spells

  Hex-Ed

  Witches Gone Wicked

  A Handful of Hexes

  Hexes and Exes

  Reading, Writing and Necromancy

  Budget Cuts for the Dark Arts and Crafts

  Hex and the City

  Spell it Out for Me

  Hex Crimes

  My Crazy Hex Girlfriend

  All Hexed Up

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  OTHER BOOKS IN THE womby’s school for wayward witches SERIES listed in order

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Excerpt from the sequel,

  CHAPTER TWO

  in the Womby’s School for Wayward Witches Series

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I am fortunate to have so many supportive friends and family encouraging my endeavors. From an early age I had a mother who was my number one fan. I appreciated the early years of encouragement and the later years of brutal honesty. I am thankful I have a husband who enables my creative addiction. I wouldn’t be able to write if Charlie didn’t go in his man cave and entertain himself with World of Warcraft during the long hours it takes to produce a novel.

  Thank you Night Writers, Alpha Readers, Visionary Ink, Wordos, and Eugene Writers Anonymous for helping me make this series the best it can be. Justin Tindel and Daryll Lynne Evans, you gave me hope and a writing community at a time when both were lacking in my life. James S. Aaron, your suggestion that I’m writing a cozy witch mystery was brilliant.

  Eric Witchey, your classes always inspire me to write better craft. If only I had been born with a witchy last name like you were. But one can’t have everything.

  CHAPTER ONE

  The Sorcerer’s Apprentice

  There was one reason I was willing to visit Professor Felix Thatch and endure his snarky comments in the shadowy bowels of the school dungeon on a Saturday at seven a.m. I needed to learn to protect myself from being attacked again. I could only do that if I learned to conceal what I was.

  I walked through the dank, moldy dungeon and into the hallway outside Thatch’s office for my newest magic lesson, halting when I heard a woman speak. “I’m not going to do it. You’ve already ruined my existence enough by making me share a room with her. If you weren’t my supervisor, I would poison you.” The familiar voice made no attempt to mask the venom in her words.

  I hesitated outside the door, not particularly wanting to face Vega Bloodmire, roommate evil-ordinaire. How odd that she would be visiting Thatch early in the morning, especially after staying out late the night before.

  Thatch spoke slowly, enunciating each word with a crisp British accent. “You act as though a room by yourself in the tower is a right, not a privilege. It is a reward … you haven’t yet earned.”

  “How can you say that? I’ve spied for you. I’ve reported Clarissa’s behaviors and told you anytime she acted suspiciously. You said I could have my own room at the start of the new quarter. Now you’re reneging on the deal.”

  Dread settled in my gut as I realized they were talking about me. Thatch hadn’t forced me to share a room with Vega because he wanted to ruin my life; it was so someone could babysit me. I hated that he treated me like a little kid. I was a teacher.

  Thatch coughed. “No. I said I would consider it. I have. You are not getting the tower.”

  “What did Josephine Kimura ever do to deserve the tower besides sleep with you?”

  I gasped, clamping a hand over my mouth too late. What? My best friend had slept with the dungeon master? Josie hated Thatch. Then again, maybe this was why.

  Feathers rustled, and metal rattled. Thatch’s pet crow was in its cage inside his office no doubt.

  “As you are quite aware, Miss Bloodmire, I do not form relationships with my subordinates. It would be unprofessional.”

  She muttered, “Who said anything about forming a relationship?”

  I leaned against the wall in relief. I didn’t know why it unsettled me so greatly that Josie might have slept with Thatch. It wasn’t as if I liked him that way. It wasn’t like I had been thinking about when he’d almost kissed me—most certainly I was not thinking about it multiple times each hour of each day. Every time I closed my eyes and imagined that whisper across my lips, I wasn’t sure if it had been his magic that had brushed my skin or his mouth. Considering I was his subordinate and he was the aloof, professional professor, it was unlikely he had kissed me.

  The idea of Josie having a past with my attractive frenemy only complicated my feelings for him. One minute I’d suspected him of wanting to curse me to get rid of me, the next I discovered my ex-boyfriend was behind all those deaths—and Thatch had been trying to save me from the same fate all along.

  “Furthermore,” Thatch went on, his sexy British accent enticing me to keep listening. “I have reason to believe Miss Kimura would make an unsuitable roommate for Miss Lawrence.”

  Vega snorted. “An unsuitable roommate for anyone from my experience with her.”

  Ire shot through me on Josie’s behalf. She would make a way better roommate than Vega any day—and not just because she didn’t hog up all the shelf space and hang nooses over my bed.

  “I have need of you and your talents supervising Miss Lawrence a while longer,” Thatch said. “I have compensated you generously for your troubles thus far. I shall continue to do so for as long as this arrangement exists. Will that suffice?”

  He was paying her to babysit me? What was he paying her?

  “No. You’re expecting me to do even more work on your behalf now. It’s bad enough you took away my prep and gave me Julian Thistledown’s remedial History of Fae Studies. At least Jeb added a bonus to my monthly salary for that. Though, not enough for what I put up with. If you’re going to pile additional duties on my plate, I expect more in return.”

  His tone was even, each word spoken crisply and clearly. “What do you want?”

  “The price is four hours a week instead of two.”

  “Very well,” he said.

  “And I expect you to put in actual effort. You can’t just sit there and watch. I expect you to enjoy it.”

  I leaned closer, trying to figure out what they were talking about. Did this have something to do wit
h her staying out late? I wasn’t sure I remembered her sneaking in at all the night before, and her bed had been made when I’d woken. What were the two of them up to?

  “I never claimed I would enjoy myself, nor that you would find satisfaction in my company,” he said. “I will continue to bring my sketchpad with me and draw while you torture me with these hedonistic excursions. I make no more promises other than to accompany you.”

  Vega huffed in exasperation.

  Now I was really lost. What was he doing to pay her? Where were they going? Was she asking him to go to the graveyard with her or torture small animals? It had to be something morbid and magical, but I couldn’t imagine what.

  Thatch cleared his throat. “I have agreed to your terms. Additionally, if you do well, and you’re able to keep Miss Lawrence from harm or getting into trouble, I will speak to Jeb on your behalf at the end of the year and ask him to give you the tower.”

  “By myself,” she said. “I will have the tower by myself and not have to share with anyone.”

  “Indeed.” He raised his voice. “Miss Lawrence, would you stop skulking in the shadows, spying like a delinquent student? Come in here.”

  So much for being sneaky.

  I trudged into the room, trying to avoid Vega’s glare. She lounged in the chair across from Thatch’s desk, more at ease than anyone else in the world should be in a metal torture chair. She’d dressed in the equivalent of business casual for a flapper, the black cotton dress having a low waist that enhanced her slim figure. Upon first glance, it looked like she showed an indecent amount of leg, but the skirt was knee length. It just happened that Vega had outrageously long legs.

  Not that I was jealous. Much.

  Vega’s dark eyes narrowed to slits. “How long were you listening?”

  I shook my head. “A minute. Less than a minute. I wasn’t skulking. I just didn’t want to interrupt.”

  Thatch’s perfectly shaped lips pursed like an old woman’s. His severe features would have been beautiful if he had smiled, but he seldom did. I had a suspicion he knew I’d been there for more than a minute.

  Vega smoothed a hand over her already perfect hair, the sides of the black bob curling around her elegant cheekbones. She remained seated. Not that I wanted to sit in the torture chair, but it was über awkward just standing there.

  Thatch adjusted the white cravat around the high collar of his shirt. “Previously, Miss Lawrence, we discussed the need for you to expedite your learning so that you can gain control of your powers more quickly.”

  “Yes, I remember.” My eagerness to learn magic soured in the pit of my stomach as foreboding swept over me.

  There had to be a reason Vega hadn’t left yet. My intuition told me I wasn’t going to like the reason.

  He gestured toward my archrival. “Meet your new magic mentor.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Welcome to Hell

  “What?” My voice came out a squeak. “No!”

  This had to be a joke.

  Vega drummed her red lacquered nails on the chair’s armrest. “I’m going to be giving you magic lessons. Don’t get too excited. I know I’m not.”

  Thatch’s expressionless monotone gave away no sign of emotion, good or bad. “Jeb insists you learn to control your magic before you cause another accident. We can’t have more random teachers’ deaths.”

  Julian Thistledown’s death the week before had been no accident, and he knew it, but apparently Vega didn’t. I wondered what the rest of the staff thought of me—that I was a loose cannon?

  “I haven’t the time nor the patience to teach you magic.” His face remained a mask of calm that gave away no indication of what was true versus a lie. “I believe it would be in your best interest for a highly skilled teacher to take over your training since you are so … inept.”

  The salt of his words stung against my recent wounds. I didn’t know how much of that he meant and what was a façade to throw Vega off.

  I shook my head. “But what about my … affinity?” I thought that was the whole reason he didn’t want anyone else to train me. Julian Thistledown had probably figured out what I was through teaching me magic.

  Thatch gave me a sharp look. The black crow in its cage shifted and pecked at the bars. I flinched back.

  Thatch turned to his bird, probably welcoming the distraction. “Down, Priscilla. Good girl.” He removed a strip of meat from his jacket pocket and fed it to the bird.

  I crinkled up my nose up in disgust that he was carrying around raw meat in his pocket.

  “What is your affinity?” Vega asked a little too sweetly.

  I didn’t answer. Apparently, she didn’t know. And why would she? Thatch had said to keep my weird flavor of forbidden magic secret.

  “Um… .” I said with all the eloquence I could muster.

  Thatch didn’t miss a beat. He made eye contact with Vega, not me. “Miss Lawrence doesn’t know her affinity. She hasn’t been tested.”

  She smiled like a cat who had caught a mouse. “Why not build an affinity fire right now, then?”

  “I can forgive your ignorance in the matter since you’ve never been part of building an affinity fire.” Thatch stared imperiously down at Vega. “It takes all three houses to do so, and an immense amount of magic from each. I’m not going to ask Grandmother Bluehorse or Jackie Frost to waste their time or energy on this for one person. If you, however, would like to contribute your own magic to the endeavor to see if Miss Lawrence is Celestor, you are welcome to do so.”

  Vega grimaced. “I would rather not.”

  “As Miss Lawrence’s affinity remains untested, she will spend time with three teachers who make up the affinity trinity. Through learning all magical skills, she will find what best suits her. I have selected the most-skilled teachers on staff to aid in her education—myself excluded from that list.”

  Humble much?

  “As the head of the Elementia team, Jackie Frost is best suited to give Miss Lawrence lessons in elemental magic. These studies will occur during Miss Lawrence’s B-day preps. Professor Bluehorse is our most powerful Amni Plandai on staff and will permit Miss Lawrence to attend her classes twice a week during A-day preps. Miss Kimura will attempt to teach a few simple charms for cleaning and healing, but I have no great faith in her abilities to teach magic. You, Miss Bloodmire, are a talented Celestor. The few skills you didn’t naturally possess, you’ve worked hard to master, and you have an excellent track record for teaching students difficult subjects.”

  I didn’t know about that track record. Vega Bloodmire taught wards and protective magic. The true test for mastering these skills was not getting snatched by Fae. As I understood it, our students at Womby’s School for Wayward Witches had an abysmal survival rate after graduation. I had my doubts about her becoming my teacher.

  Whether Thatch’s statement was true or not, Vega leaned back in the chair, her eyes closed as she basked in the compliment.

  Thatch raised a thick black eyebrow, watching her. “You are more than competent enough to teach Miss Lawrence all the affinities, but that wouldn’t be fair to you or your time.”

  Not to mention it wouldn’t be fair to me to have to put up with her threats to murder me in the middle of the night—or other friendly behaviors—by forcing me to spend even more time in the same room with her.

  “You will oversee her foreign language studies, wards and protective spells, and tutor her in other subjects as needed. This will occur during homeroom since Miss Lawrence currently doesn’t have a homeroom.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “When am I supposed to prep for my actual classes if you’re taking away my preps?”

  “Duh. After school, weekends, or other times,” Vega said.

  The consternation must have shown on my face because Thatch offered me one of his sardonic smiles. “Unless you object, of course. If you do, you can study more theoretical magic from books in your free time and us
e your preps for preparing for your students.” He tossed back his shoulder-length hair, strands of glossy black flashing cobalt in the light. The body and waves of his hair had to have come from magic. There was no way it could be natural.

  In the silence of the dungeon, dripping water echoed behind me.

  I swallowed my frustration. “No, you’re right. This would be better. I want to learn magic.” I’d been denied that opportunity as a high school student in the normal world. I needed to make up for it. I had to learn magic, or I would never be able to protect myself—from students or Fae.

  Only, how were any of these lessons going to help me figure out how to conceal my affinity? I thought Thatch was going to be my mentor so no one would find out about my Red affinity and use me like Julian had. There wasn’t anyone more qualified to train me.

  “What about… ?” I didn’t know how to ask him about my affinity while Vega was there.

  He didn’t help me.

  Vega stood. “Are we done here? I have places to be, students to torture.”

  Thatch nodded to her. She sauntered off, her heels tapping on the floor like music. I didn’t have to turn to know how seductively she walked. It made me hate her even more. Did she have to be good at everything?

  Thatch removed a stack of essays from one side of his polished wood desk and placed them in front of himself. “You have an open house to prepare for, I believe.”

  “Can we talk for a minute?”

  He removed a watch on a silver chain from the breast pocket of his old-fashioned vest. He checked the time and frowned. “I’m very busy.”

  I sighed in exasperation. He was only pretending to be busy. Those essays in front of him already had red ink marks on them from when he’d graded them. He picked up the quill on his desk and dipped it in ink. It was obvious he wanted me to leave.

  I trudged toward the door, feeling like I’d failed even though my first lesson hadn’t started. Vega lingered in the museum of horror beyond, admiring a rack that had presumably been used to torture someone in the school’s distant past. Hopefully she wasn’t considering how she might use it on me, her newest pupil.