Cackles and Cauldrons

by Sarina Dorie

  I tried not to dwell on the embarrassing memories that ingredient resurrected.

  In the meantime, I kept an eye on Vega, wondering if she might accidentally reveal what she knew about who wanted to harm me. Originally, she had claimed it had been a trick, just something to scare me. But Vega’s idea of scaring me in the past had almost resulted in killing me. I didn’t trust her to be an unbiased source of what was “safe.”

  Not when she wouldn’t tell me who had played that trick on me. Nor if this Fae could claim her soul if she slipped and told me.

  If Khaba had found out anything from Vega, he wasn’t saying. Over the next week, I didn’t hear about any more Fae break-ins.

  After the most recent attacks, I only spent a few hours with Thatch here or there. Most of our magic lessons consisted of tutoring sessions in the fear chair. We used the body-awareness techniques we’d previously been working on, pain control, and siphoning pain into more palatable forms of magic. He gave me exercises and meditations to practice in my own room, but he insisted I only remove my awareness from my own body when I was with him.

  I didn’t disagree that it was dangerous. I didn’t want to leave my body again and not be able to get back in. Nor did I want anyone else to touch me with their mind and trick me as the princess had before.

  As far as romance went, that left something to be desired. Thatch wouldn’t let me spend the night with him, and our lessons tended to be in the early morning or after the school clubs without much extra time for recreational activities with each other. Once or twice when we did get to spend time together romantically, it was never in the evening.

  “Can’t we spend some time together outside the school on a real date?” I asked Thatch.

  He crossed his arms. “That would bring suspicion upon why I was removing you from the school.”

  “What about a pretend date then? You could come to my classroom and we could paint together again. Now that there aren’t any invisible security guards, it won’t be so bad. You could sit for me, and I could sketch your portrait.” I savored the idea of spending quality time with him and staring at his beautiful face for hours. From the long slope of his nose to his stormy gray eyes to the midnight of his hair, he was striking. “There wouldn’t be anything suspicious about that.”

  He lifted an eyebrow, a sardonic smile twisting his lips upward. “Is that so? Is this with or without clothes?”

  I smacked him in the arm. “Shush, you! With clothes.”

  His smile broadened, either from the sensation of being hit or because he took perverse pleasure from irritating me. “I never did get to finish the sketches I made of you.”

  If he was referring to the sketches of me without clothes, I didn’t doubt it. “And you likely never will at this rate since you won’t spend more than an hour with me at any time.”

  He laughed, the sound so happy and out of character for him. But I supposed I was learning smiles weren’t out of place on his usually contemplative face. If he wasn’t lost in worry or concentrating on magic—or vexed by something I’d done like speaking to Khaba—the corners of his eyes crinkled up in delight upon seeing me. His mouth softened, and his resting witch face vanished.

  The moment students or staff were around, all that changed, and he hid behind a mask of snooty superiority and harsh words. When I had gone to bed with Thatch, I had never imagined all this need for secrecy. I hadn’t realized he would have asked me to lie to my friends and keep our feelings for each other hidden.

  I didn’t know how long I would be able to keep this up without accidentally giving myself away—or worse yet—Vega purposefully revealing it despite the bargain I had made with her.

  It took over a week for Vega to gather and prepare ingredients for her spell, but she kept her word. On a Saturday morning, Vega instructed me in the creation of the spell I’d asked for. If I was lucky, I might be able to tempt Thatch into testing it out. Maybe I could convince him to take me on a real date under the pretense of going to the art supply store. Surely it had to be safer off campus than it was on Womby’s property.

  Vega wore an apron over a pencil skirt and low-waisted blouse in a twenties-era style. Deciding to follow her lead, I donned one of my art smocks speckled with a geography of acrylic paint smears and splatters I had collected over the years.

  We set up a cauldron on the desk in our dorm room, all papers cleared so they wouldn’t catch fire as she heated up the pot using a heat spell that looked like fire but didn’t char the wood surface of the desk. She made me stir the cauldron, measure, and add the ingredients. It almost reminded me of my childhood cooking lessons with my fairy godmother. Unlike Vega Bloodmire, Abigail Lawrence was cheerful and loving.

  Vega chided, “You work too slowly. Pick up the speed.” She glared at me with daggers in her eyes.

  She never ceased to scare me. Vega jabbed at me with her wand when I didn’t grind herbs correctly with the mortar and pestle.

  Her next comment was, “You aren’t pronouncing the words to the spell properly.”

  As I added more ingredients, the fumes burned my eyes. “How exactly does this work?” I asked. “Can I dip a condom into the potion, and it will stay effective the entire time?”

  Vega’s perfectly arched eyebrows rose higher. “One would think you had learned by now. Wasn’t what you did to Elric example enough for you?”

  “Thatch isn’t like Elric. A condom isn’t going to burn him.” My face flushed with heat at the memory. I still felt guilty not knowing how the lubrication on the condom would react with Fae magic. Elric had trusted me to keep him safe from Morty “magic,” and I had let him down. He’d suffered because of me. I didn’t want the same to happen to Thatch.

  “Let’s say Thatch has enough human in him that the latex doesn’t bother Thatch’s Witchkin skin—or magic. But a human-made condom won’t tolerate magic. Think of what happened when it was brought in contact with Elric’s skin—and that was a supposedly “natural” sheath made from lamb’s intestines or some such nonsense.” A dark cloud crossed Vega’s face, her expression turning grim. “Any other woman, human or Witchkin, would gladly have spread her legs without hesitation to a Fae prince—who obviously doesn’t have any sexually transmitted infections. But not you.”

  “It’s more than STIs. I don’t want to get pregnant. Haven’t you ever used birth control?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “No. Why would I need to? Most Witchkin are infertile. And it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out one’s ovulation cycle.”

  “Now that you’re a Red affinity, does that mean you’re fertile?” I asked. “Do you have to keep track of your ovulation so you don’t become pregnant?”

  Abruptly she turned away. “In any case, it doesn’t matter if the condom is made of latex or something else. There will be too many chemicals and potential variables that will interact with magic. It’s meant as a ward to protect human flesh. There will be enough so you can stopper it up and get at least a few dozen usages out of it. Perhaps less if you have to apply a liberal amount to ensure it’s effective.” Her lips curled into a sly smile. “I suppose it just depends how hot he is.”

  I grimaced at her little joke. Vega sniffed at the cauldron, added a dollop of swirling rainbow ooze from a jar labeled “seed of unicorn.” She added a notation to the spell she’d written out. The sharp, acidic stench in the air shifted to the perfume of spring meadows.

  The spell was time consuming, but not difficult. It took longer than I had suspected. Three hours in, I wished I had told Thatch I would be busy most of Saturday because I would miss my lesson. I didn’t want him to come looking for me and find me brewing this. For all I knew, he would become irritated at the idea that Vega knew about his secret, and he’d be angry with me. I kept glancing at the clock, afraid he would walk in.

  A knock sounded at the door, and I jumped.

  “Who’s there?” Vega asked sweetly.

  The door opened, and Josi
e walked in. My momentary relief turned to mortification. I didn’t want her to figure out what we were doing.

  “Hi, Clarissa,” Josie said. “What’s cooking in here? It doesn’t smell like no-bake cookies.”

  That was my preferred use for Vega’s cauldron—though Vega didn’t know that. “Nothing special, just some homework,” I said quickly.

  “Homework for Felix Thatch,” Vega said with a cackle. “Someone wants to be teacher’s pet.”

  Josie grimaced. “I highly doubt that.”

  I didn’t trust Vega not to say what we were doing even after she had promised not to tell anyone as my first wish. I hurried on before Vega made another insinuation. “Thanks for stopping in. Can I catch you later at lunch?”

  “Khaba, Pinky, and I are going into Lachlan Falls. How long are you going to be? Want to go with us?”

  “Thanks, but we’re only halfway done. Maybe we could hang out later.”

  Vega snorted. “If you want to be spider bait.”

  Josie’s smile slipped from her face.

  “Vega, that isn’t very nice!” I said.

  “Being nice gets you killed. Being practical saves lives. I’m practical.” She eyed me, her lips curling down. “You’re nice.”

  Josie backed out of the room, eyes downcast. “See you later.”

  Vega strode across to the door and slammed it closed behind Josie.

  “Was that truly necessary?” I asked. “She isn’t going to eat me. That was a fluke because we were spending so much time together. And when we do spend time together now, either Pinky or Khaba is always there.”

  “Good for you. You’re not as much of a fucktard as I gave you credit for.”

  “Wow. That was one of the nicest things you’ve ever said to me,” I said.

  Vega placed her hand on mine as I stirred the last ingredients into the cauldron, clearly enunciating the words, which she made me repeat. The perfume of spring meadows intensified. Power radiated from Vega. I felt the cold rush of a stream all around me and heard the burble of water over rocks. Vertigo washed over me. My voice didn’t sound like my own. We spoke in the language of ice and water, infusing our words into the cauldron.

  Vega wasn’t an Elementia fury with an affinity of water or winter, but for a moment she reminded me of Jackie Frost. Sunlight from the open window shimmered over her face as it would on snow. Her eyes turned icy blue, and her hand over mine cooled as though she channeled arctic tundra in her veins.

  “Push your will into me,” Vega said.

  Being a Celestor, Vega prided herself in being able to perform challenging magics. I had long ago inferred that her status as a Merlin-class Celestor meant she was able to do all magics. But it appeared even she benefited from a boost of my Red affinity at times. I was careful not to overwhelm her. I had read what my mother’s experiments had done to people as she’d struggled to solve the Fae Fertility Paradox. Thatch had told me what she’d accidentally done to Gertrude Periwinkle when she had tried to help her tone down her beauty.

  It was easy to go overboard.

  I reached down into the well of red energy inside me and withdrew a thread of magic. I directed it up my arm and pushed it into her. Like a fish catching the hook on the end of the line, Vega tugged at the thread of magic. I gasped at the way my belly churned at the sudden jerk.

  “More, you stingy little bitch. I need more.” Vega’s eyes remained translucent blue, eerie in contrast to her usual green irises.

  I dug deeper into myself, the thin thread of magic thickening, growing warmer before cooling as it sank into her flesh. I paced myself, drawing out a controlled, even flow, shifting the electrical impulses into a safe untainted magic.

  “I said to give me magic. Do you want this to work or not?” Vega snapped.

  There was only one way to increase my magic and that was to experience pleasure. Nothing about Vega’s fingers digging into my wrist felt nice. I blocked the pain and closed my eyes, imaging Felix Thatch’s arms around me. I remembered the last time he’d kissed me in his office, the door locked. His fingers had massaged my scalp, and he’d slipped a hand under the edge of my blouse, fingers skimming over the skin just above my skirt. I shivered at the memory of his hand brushing over my naked skin.

  I welcomed that longing back inside me. The red core of my affinity swelled, the magic a tangible force as it pressed against my diaphragm. Hot waves crashed through me, sparking across my skin and hissing as they met Vega’s cold. Thunder rumbled in my ears and light flashed, but my eyes were closed.

  Vega moaned, a pathetic mewl a kitten might make when faced with a predator about to tear it apart. I opened my eyes, finding blue electricity flashing over Vega’s skin. Her eyes were no longer ice-blue but solid black, reminding me of the Raven Queen.

  Why did it not surprise me I’d messed up again?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  With This Next Trick, One of Clarissa’s Problems Disappears

  I yanked my hand from Vega’s, breaking the connection. I feared I had killed her again. Or worse, I’d turned her evil, and she would be like Derrick. The liquid ink covering the whites of her eyes reminded me of ravens.

  The moment I broke contact with her, Vega swayed. The blue electricity sparking over her skin stopped.

  “Holy fuck! That was . . . delicious.” Vega blinked and shook herself. Her eyes were dark green once again. “That was better than the last time you gave me electricity. It was better than one of Elric’s immaculate orgasms.” She looked me up and down. “What the hell was that?”

  I wasn’t sure what I’d just done. Exhausted, I staggered backward, groping for something to hold on to. The back of my legs bumped into my bed, and I dropped onto the mattress. I didn’t have the energy to do more than lie there.

  “Maybe that was pleasure magic,” I said. I didn’t actually know.

  Vega plopped into the chair we’d pulled away from the desk. Her skin glowed with warmth and vitality. On any given day, Vega was immaculately dressed, never a chip in her red lacquered nails or a hair out of place on her head. With her long, lean frame and elegance, she was striking. One might even have considered her beautiful, but that harsh point to her chin and the severe cut of her cheekbones were too sharp to be inviting.

  Something had softened in her, but I couldn’t place my finger on what. She was radiant and beautiful.

  She blew out the fire licking at the cauldron and lifted the wooden spoon from the metal, sunlight shining through the liquid like the rays of a prism. Rainbow swirls dripped into the pot.

  “Soup is done,” she said.

  “Great. Yeah. We’re done.” I wanted to close my eyes and fall asleep.

  Vega nudged me in the shoulder with her wand. “Oh, no you don’t. You need to bottle this up and clean up your mess. And I expect you to scrub all the rainbows and glitter shit out of my cauldron before it stains the metal.”

  I heaved myself to my feet. “Now all I have to do is get him to, um, slather it on?”

  She shrugged. “If you can convince him. Though I think with your history maiming men’s genitals, you’re going to have a difficult time convincing him to do that.”

  I had taken it for granted Thatch would be eager to try out the spell, but now that I thought about it, I wondered if that would be the case. If I told him I made it myself, he would assume I had done it wrong because it was a spell too complex for a beginner—which wouldn’t inspire him to try it. Or I could tell him Vega had helped me make the spell, and he would be angry she knew. I would have to tell him Gertrude Periwinkle had told Vega about his problem—not me—but then he would be angry I’d been talking to her too. Even if I told him I had used my wishes to swear Vega to secrecy and enlisted her help, Vega’s moral compass didn’t restrict her from hinting about the truth, like she had with Josie. Thatch getting mad at me for confiding in Vega wouldn’t exactly put him in a passionate mood.

  Thatch was a Merlin-class Celest
or. Maybe there was a way he could test it before using it.

  Vega stretched, languidly like a cat. “Plus, we don’t know this is actually going to retard fire. I suggest you test it first.”

  I flashed Vega an appreciative smile. I would have liked to thank her, but I wasn’t so tired to forget how that would put me in her debt. Instead, I said, “Good idea. I’m lucky I have such a brilliant roommate.”

  She grimaced. “Come now, Clarissa. Flattery will get you—”

  “Everywhere,” I cut in. With her anyway.

  I expected her to snap at me for interrupting her or poke me with her wand again, but she actually laughed. The harsh edge of her cheeks melted away when she tilted her head back. She was so beautiful when she was happy. She resembled a nice person, the kind of impractical Witchkin she detested.

  She kicked my leg with her pointed shoe. “No rest for the wicked. It’s time to clean up your mess.”

  I forced myself to stand and bottled up the rainbow liquid as Vega looked on. She had provided me with a variety of empty jars from her classroom storage closet. Elric would be livid if he knew what we were using his donated school supplies for. It wouldn’t surprise me if Vega intended to tell him later to goad him.

  Vega ladled a small sample onto her arm and rubbed it in. The rainbows disappeared as she spread it over her skin, but there was still a shimmer. When I squinted my eyes, I noticed the lattice of lines, not so different from a ward. That’s what Vega had said this was, but I couldn’t tell if it was more potion, alchemy, or protective spell.

  Vega held her arm up to the light.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Something I advise you to do in order to test it.” Using her wand, she aimed it at her skin. Flames licked her arm, but her flesh remained undamaged. She smoothed her fingers along the patch of skin.

  She plucked up a bottle I’d just corked. “This bottle is mine. It might prove useful someday. Consider it a toll for my services.”