Cackles and Cauldrons

by Sarina Dorie

  Vega never had told me what she was doing behind curtain number one. For all I knew, she had been using the secret hallway to spy on Thatch and me. Either that or she’d used her powers of divination to find me at the right place at the right time because she’d wanted to talk to me about what I’d done to her. Somehow I had a feeling she might have been there for more reasons than that, but I doubted I was capable of getting any answers out of her.

  I peeked out from around the tapestry, darting back behind it when I saw students approaching. I waited for their footsteps to pass before pushing the fabric aside a sliver to try again. This time the hall was empty. I hurried out and traveled through the seventies wing of the school, painted in avocado green and mustard yellow, to get to the administration wing. As I headed up the stairs to Khaba’s office, I heard his voice murmuring from the counseling office.

  The lilting cadence of his accent, somewhere in between Middle Eastern and something I couldn’t place, drifted across the space like notes of faraway music. “I need you to get me his student record from when Felix Thatch was a student here.”

  That didn’t sound good. What was he trying to dig up now?

  “What do I look like? Your personal secretary? I have other things to do right now,” Puck said, his voice louder, carrying farther than Khaba’s quieter one. “Go ask Mrs. Keahi.”

  I poked my head into the office.

  Khaba stood in the hallway of staff mailboxes, peering into Puck’s office. “I already told you, she’s being difficult. And we both know why.”

  Puck laughed, the sound cruel and unyielding. “Because you didn’t grant her wishes?”

  “No. Because she favors him. She feels bad for—” Khaba stopped abruptly. “Ah, Miss Lawrence, might we have a word?”

  I smiled in relief. “That’s what I was hoping for.”

  He cast a dirty look over his shoulder at Puck and placed an arm around my shoulder. “How’s my favorite Witchkin teacher today? You survived the night without anyone trying to eat you or kill you?” He patted my arm with brotherly affection.

  I didn’t see how Thatch could suspect Khaba of wanting to kill anyone or be in league with any Fae courts. He was a genuinely nice guy, and he was one of my closest friends. If anyone would be able to keep the school safe from Fae threats, it was Khaba.

  We walked up to the next floor where his office was located.

  He gestured to the empty wood chair, painted bubblegum pink, and then sat in his own chair behind his fuchsia desk. The entire room was painted and decorated with various hues of pink. I’d always loved the rainbow unicorn magnets holding up schedules and notes on his file cabinets.

  I fidgeted with the hem of my skirt, gathering my thoughts. I didn’t know where to begin. He drew in a breath. We both began speaking at once.

  “We need to talk about Vega,” I said.

  “I wanted to talk to you about the . . . situation.”

  We both stopped, started again at the same time, and he held up a hand to stop me. “Have you noticed any unusual behaviors from our Professor Thatch?”

  His question took me so off guard, I only stared in confusion.

  “Perhaps I should say more unusual than usual.” He cracked a smile. “He isn’t exactly normal.”

  I laughed, wondering what he was getting at. “No. Not really.”

  “I suppose you wouldn’t. You only see him in a professional capacity—and probably as infrequently as you can manage.”

  I couldn’t tell whether he was trying to be coy and insinuate the opposite—a move out of Vega’s book—or he truly believed I tried to avoid Thatch.

  “Felix Thatch tutors me almost every day,” I said. “He isn’t horrible. Not like he used to be,” I said by way of trying to stick up for Thatch. I needed Khaba to see Thatch as I saw him. I needed for him to be on our side.

  “Hmm. So he’s been unusually nice. Yes, I’ve noticed a change in him as well. Just a slight . . . spark in his eyes. A spring in his step. He even smiled at me and greeted me politely this morning. That is suspicious. Perhaps you should postpone further lessons with him until I clear this matter up with all these trespassing Fae and the threats upon your life.”

  “Why? What does that have to do with anything?”

  He gestured a hand at the door. It creaked closed. “Honey, I don’t want to imply anything insensitive like you aren’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, but you have this tendency to be too trusting. You see the good in people, even when there’s none to be had. Like you did with Elric of the Silver Court.”

  I crossed my arms. “Elric is a nice person.”

  “Sure he is.” Khaba shrugged. “For a Fae.”

  “Stop saying that. You’re Fae too.”

  Khaba snorted. “By birth. Not by choice.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Now I need you to consider something that might not have occurred to you. Felix Thatch once worked for the Raven Court.”

  “Yes, I know. But he doesn’t anymore.”

  “Honey, once you join that flock, you’re one of them forever. The only reason the Raven Queen ‘released’ him was so that he could serve as her spy. It’s the only logical explanation.” Khaba gave me a pitying smile. “I’m sorry to pour salt on a wound, but we know for a fact that Thatch lured Derrick into the Raven Queen’s service.”

  “No,” I said slowly, trying not to let the old hurt of hearing Derrick’s name hook its barbs under my skin. “Thatch rescued Derrick and tried to save him.”

  “Who told you that? Thatch or Derrick?”

  I didn’t answer. Nothing Thatch had said to me could possibly convince Khaba.

  “Let me list my evidence, and then you can decide for yourself whether you think it’s wise to ignore it. First of all, that pet bird he claims is a crow is actually a raven.”

  I held my tongue. I didn’t know what Khaba would say if I told him his familiar was Thatch’s sister whom the Raven Queen had transformed to punish Alouette Loraline for not giving her court the answer to the Fae Fertility Paradox.

  “Second of all, Thatch comes and goes anytime he pleases under the guise of recruiting.”

  “He is recruiting. He’s even taken me with him!”

  “Yes, it is a likely excuse and a pragmatic way of disguising what he’s truly doing while he’s off campus. I would like you to refrain from going on any further excursions with him outside of school. From what Josie tells me, you were almost snatched by a Fae king the last time he kidnapped you from class. The King of the Pacific?”

  “That was my fault.” I shouldn’t have touched the pretty seashell.

  He held up a finger to indicate he wanted me to stop. “I know you want to believe Felix Thatch is your friend, but he isn’t. I have come to believe he dabbles in. . . .” He cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed. “Dark magic. Forbidden magic.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t want to say it out loud and pollute your mind with the horrors of my suspicions.”

  “Blood magic? Sex magic? Those rumors were completely unfounded.”

  Khaba closed his eyes and took in a breath. “Pain magic. Electricity.”

  I tried to compose my face into a mask of calm. “Why would you think that?”

  “Several times in the last couple years I’ve felt fluctuations and disturbances in my wards. Electricity has robbed my magic of its power. And I’m not talking about small disruptions of the contraband cell phones or music devices students bring onto the school grounds. I’m referring to him. He’s doing something in the dungeon. Recently I investigated a disruption in the wards in his private bedroom. If I can prove he’s behind letting emissaries of the Raven Court onto school grounds, then I will have grounds for firing him. The school board won’t be able to refuse.”

  “No!” I leapt to my feet, breaking my façade of disinterest in Thatch as anything more than an annoying mentor. “Thatch didn’t let the Fae onto the school grounds. He wou
ldn’t. He cares about the students and about me.”

  Khaba frowned and shook his head at me as though I were a dense child. “This is what I’m talking about. You’ve lost your ability to remain objective. You think he’s your friend. What you don’t realize is that Felix Thatch doesn’t make friends. He doesn’t want friends. I told Josie that when she first started. Did she listen? No. The only time Thatch is remotely kind to someone is when he wants something.”

  Thatch was right about Khaba wanting to get him fired, but not for the reason he’d suspected. It had nothing to do with him being an evil demon.

  I could now see how dangerous revealing the truth of our relationship to Khaba would be—not because he would use it as a detail to point out Thatch’s unprofessionalism—but because he would think Thatch was trying to manipulate me. It would only further his bias against Thatch.

  Khaba reached across his desk and held out a hand. I sat down at the edge of my chair and placed my palm on his. He squeezed my hand, the warmth of his own reassuring. Good intentions radiated from him. I wasn’t trying to use my new ability to sense the fluctuations in his soul, but I picked up on them nonetheless.

  “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you like it did to Derrick or as it did with Brogan. Will you promise me you’ll be careful?”

  “Yes, of course. I’m not going to just throw myself at the Raven Court and tell them to take me to their leader.” I meant it as a joke, but neither of us laughed.

  “I worry about you, Clarissa. If I lose one more person I care about. . . .” He swallowed and looked away.

  I made my way around his desk and placed an arm around his shoulder.

  He buried his face against my shoulder, shaking as he squeezed me to him. His words were muffled, his voice raw. “I miss him so much.”

  “I know.” I didn’t have to ask who. His love for Brogan had given him a purpose other than slaving away as an unpaid dean of discipline. It had been a thankless job, and no one had appreciated him and all the work he had done for the school.

  Khaba sobbed against my shoulder, hot tears soaking my shirt. It took a full minute before he could speak again. “Do you know what my last words to him were?”

  “What?”

  “We had been arguing about Jeb. Brogan thought the former principal took advantage of my powers—and Brogan didn’t like him rubbing my lamp to make his wishes come true. But we were having a lockdown. I couldn’t go to Lachlan Falls for Brogan to rub my lamp. And instead of admitting he was right—which he was—or asking him to visit every day—because I was too prideful—or acknowledging his feelings were hurt, I was defensive and grouchy.”

  Khaba swallowed, the sound an audible gulp in his throat. “When Brogan had enough of my hissy fit, he said he’d talk to me later when I wasn’t being a drama queen. He kissed me goodbye and said he loved me. I half-jokingly said, ‘No you don’t. You just want me to grant your wishes.’ Those were my last words to him. Not, ‘I love you too,’ or ‘You’re the best boyfriend in the world for putting up with me.’ I know he wasn’t ever using me to grant his wishes. He never asked for anything for himself.

  “I’ve regretted the way we ended things.”

  Tears filled my eyes. “You didn’t know it would be the last time you would see him.”

  We were both silent for a long time. I thought about all the things I left unsaid to the people I loved in my life. If any of them were taken from me, I might have similar remorse over keeping secrets from them, for making them suffer because they thought I didn’t trust them.

  Khaba sniffled. I reached for the tissue box on his desk and handed it to him. He wiped his eyes and blew his nose.

  I patted his back. “What can I do for you?”

  “Just one more hug.”

  I slipped my arms around him and squeezed him one more time.

  He sighed. “Why is it your hugs are so addictive? They make me feel better than the sweets from Ye Green Grocery.”

  Probably my touch magic was influencing him. I drew back and tried to make light of his comment. “I’m like a drug dealer, but I’m a hug dealer.”

  He snorted. “The first one is free. That’s how you get people hooked. Then you start charging?” One side of his mouth lifted into an almost smile.

  It had been a while since I’d seen Khaba joke about anything. I always thought of him as being funny and punny, but he hadn’t made many jokes since returning to work at Womby’s.

  Khaba stared at his desk for a long moment before asking, “Is there anything you aren’t telling me?”

  “No.” The word came out rushed, and I forced myself to slow. Did he suspect my affinity? “Why would you think that?”

  He leaned toward me and inhaled. “You smell like guilt.”

  I laughed uncomfortably and released his hand. I didn’t know if he was being serious or not. His djinn powers were a bit of a mystery to me, especially after returning this school year from his sabbatical.

  He stared into my eyes. “If you want me to help you, I need you to be honest.”

  I wanted to tell him everything, for there to be no lies between us, but anything I said would further incriminate Thatch. Khaba would say I was young and trusting and being used by an unscrupulous man.

  I inched back.

  He planted a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm but gentle. “Is there anything else you know about the woman who threatened you, the flowers, the damage to the wards, or . . . Felix Thatch?”

  I considered whether there was a way to tell him the important details without bringing Thatch into it. “You always tell me not to tell you anything incriminating, so you don’t have to enforce school rules.”

  Khaba released his hold on me and rested his chin on his hands. “Rules are everything to Fae. Yes, if you’ve broken a school rule, I’ll need to come up with a suitable disciplinary measure, but if you made a mistake, that doesn’t mean I’m going to throw you to the wolves and make you fend for yourself. My duty is to help protect the students and the staff of this school from Fae and Witchkin who would do you harm. I can’t help you if you won’t let me.”

  He made it so easy to want to tell him the truth.

  Still, I knew I couldn’t tell him my deepest secrets.

  “Okay, there are a couple things. First, there’s Vega.” I told him all I had gotten out of her, minus the three wishes I’d asked for. I explained why I had thought the threatening poem was from her originally, the poisonous flowers and the note, and how the voice had seemed to come out of my mother’s painting. Finally I told him that Vega knew something, but she was bound to a secret and couldn’t tell for fear of losing her soul.

  Anything that frightened Vega was a serious threat.

  Khaba rubbed at his bald bronze head. “Vega afraid for her soul? I didn’t even think she had one.”

  “She does. I’ve seen it, and it’s mended now.” I didn’t want him to know I had mended it. He wasn’t supposed to know I had magic. I searched his dark eyes for a hint of mercy. “Please don’t do anything to her that would make her give up her secret so she loses it.”

  “There you are again, protecting the people who would do you harm the first chance they could, if the opportunity arose.” He shook his head at me.

  I sighed in exasperation. If only Khaba and Thatch could have gotten together and had a Clarissa-is-a-trusting-sap party. They would be BFFs if they knew they were on the same side.

  I tried another tactic, one that touched on his Fae sensibilities. “Here’s the thing. Vega owes me three boons. I plan to get the most out of it.” I forced a smile. “You aren’t allowed to make her tell you about who she made this oath with because she’ll lose her soul, and then I’ll never get her to do all the things I want her to do for me.”

  Khaba leaned back in his chair, laughing. “That’s right. She owes you a debt. In that case, I had better find another method of discovering the truth. I’ll put her on my list of peop
le to watch, in addition to Thatch.”

  Great. This would put a damper on sneaking off to Thatch’s room in the future. It seemed like the only way to prevent Khaba and Thatch from killing each other was to expose the mysterious Fae who kept trespassing, discover how she was breaking in, and prove that neither Thatch nor Khaba was part of it.

  Also, I needed to keep teaching and try to stay alive while doing everything.

  CHAPTER SIX

  A Principal with Principles

  It was never a good sign when I found a note slipped under my dormitory door at six-thirty in the morning. The handwritten memo stated the time of an emergency staff meeting, which I relayed to Vega.

  Vega grumbled from behind the dressing screen. “I wonder who died this time.”

  The last time we’d had an emergency staff meeting had been when Jeb had died. The other times we’d had unscheduled meetings had been when we’d had a lockdown and when Derrick had been killing people—only I hadn’t known he’d been the perpetrator at the time. I worried that Khaba was going to call for another lockdown because of our wards or an attack by the Raven Queen. I hoped all of our students were all right.

  I rushed to get ready, making my shower shorter than usual. I wouldn’t have time to eat breakfast, so I carried a bowl of oatmeal up the stairs to the staff room, figuring I could eat it in the back. Even with my frantic rushing, by the time I walked up the stairs to the admin wing, I was two minutes late to the meeting that was scheduled for seven thirty.

  I heard Khaba’s slight Middle Eastern accent from inside the room, and then a new voice, one I didn’t recognize as a staff member at Womby’s, though the inflection of his words was familiar. Australian.

  “The school board hired me for this position because it seems the former principal wasn’t great with finances. Since I worked three years as an accountant at Kangadillo’s School for Nature Magic in the land down under before becoming their dean, they thought I might take a crack at some of the finances while I’m here.”