by Sarina Dorie
“I hope she does, partner,” Bumblebub said. “I expect you won’t leave any details out, including your role in making a public spectacle out of a private matter better left between Fae and Witchkin, eh?” He waved a hand at the dance arena. “You’ve broken rules tonight, showing off magic in public amongst Morties. There’ll be consequences for you.”
Her face contorted in anger. She whirled in a blur of feathers and smoke, making my little smoke bomb on stage earlier look quaint and paltry. A blackbird flapped upward into the sky. Other bird shifters followed suit.
“May I?” Bumblebub asked.
I reluctantly parted with my letter.
“Well, isn’t that a mighty fine coincidence?” He chuckled and winked at me before folding up the letter and handing it back to me.
Thatch crossed his arms.
“Good work, Felix,” the old wizard said. “We fooled them real good with your help.”
Thatch spoke slowly, as if Bumblebub were an especially dense child. “Do you truly think the Raven Queen will stop at that? She is still owed a tithe for the death of one of her emissaries. If we don’t give her Miss Lawrence, who will you offer her instead?”
Bumblebub said nothing. He tapped his staff on the ground and a puff of glittering dust rose in a swirl from the trampled hay and dirt. The shimmer and dust combined and condensed like miniature galaxies collapsing in on themselves. The stars solidified into lines, a drawing of buttery light taking shape in the air in front of me. It was a crest divided into thirds, though the finer details were lost as the shape shrank. The spell sank toward me and into me, filling me with warmth. For the first time all night I felt safe and secure.
Bumblebub smiled kindly. “You know what a ward is, darlin’? That spell will last for a few days, a week at the most. It’ll keep the queen’s minions from stealing you away tonight. But the ward ain’t meant to be permanent. And it won’t do much good against the Raven Queen herself.”
An alarm clock went off. Bumblebub patted his robes, reminding me of the white rabbit in Alice in Wonderland. He lifted a pocket watch attached to a chain from the folds of his long gray robes. “I hate to be a harum-scarum, but it’s very much past my bedtime.” He patted me on the shoulder. “Go get some shut eye, dear. There’ll be time enough to discuss your fate tomorrow.”
Thatch snorted. “If you don’t accidentally kill someone between now and then and draw more Fae to you.”
A pitchfork prodded me at nine a.m., far too early to wake after such a late night of revelry.
Yamil, talent agent and backstage manager extraordinaire, found me behind the Morningwood Odditorium stage, using a blue plastic tarp as a blanket. The night had turned cold, and fingers of mist had curled into the shelter of my makeshift bed. Yamil stood over me, dressed like the devil.
“Rise and shine, sweetheart. Boy, you look like hell warmed over. First time partying at Oregon Country Fair?”
I muttered something noncommittal. My mouth tasted like something had crawled in there and died. What a night!
Yamil flipped a coin at me. I caught it mid-air.
“Someone left a shower token in your tip jar yesterday. I thought about stealing it for myself.” He crinkled up his nose. “Then I smelled you.”
A nice lady at the bathrooms let me squirt some toothpaste on my finger and scrub out my mouth with her organic, cinnamon flavored, fluoride-free toothpaste. Then I headed to the showers.
They weren’t that hard to find after I asked directions. The token meant I got a five-minute private shower with hot water instead of having to use the tepid shower truck or sharing the communal one with twenty naked men and women all at once. I wasn’t sure a coed shower would have fazed me the morning after the mosh pit orgy the previous night. Only, I didn’t want my Notorious V.A.G. to light up or do anything unpredictable this morning. I didn’t understand how magic worked and if everyone had accidents when they got aroused, but I knew I had to play it safe for just a little while longer.
Bumblebub had said he would be in touch. I would do anything to be part of his magic world and go to a school for witches. Only, I hoped he would find me sooner than later. A flock of ravens continued to watch me from the branches.
The mist lingered, making the fair feel like it was part of an enchanted world where anything could happen—good or bad. Today I didn’t feel the need to flee from the birds, though. I was safe—or so I’d been told—as long as I didn’t abra-cadaver anyone with my magic. I hoped to keep the body count to a minimum today.
Luck must have been shining on me because Yamil gave me my tips from the day before. I’d earned ten dollars, and some weird looking coins that had a picture of some lady in a witch hat on them. The American money was enough to buy breakfast. I purchased an omelet and an orange juice at the nearest food booth that opened early to accommodate volunteers.
Just as I sat down to enjoy my hard-earned meal at an empty wooden table, a raven fluttered down from a tree and landed on the seat across from me. The animal stretched and shifted into a black blur, becoming a beautiful woman with midnight wings. On top of her long sleek hair sat a black crown that glistened rainbow-black like an oil slick. Her pupils were huge and as dark as night.
My hunger shriveled up and died. Goosebumps rose on my arms. If this was my intuition talking, it was telling me this wasn’t good.
The woman tilted her head and looked at my fork hovering in mid-air to my mouth. I glanced at the sparse crowd. The fair wasn’t open yet, but the performers and volunteers eating or walking by didn’t act as though they’d noticed her transformation.
The woman’s voice was smooth, like diving into a bed of silk. “You are the one the Witchkin risked exposure for last night?” Her accent was French, though the flavor mild and refined.
“Um, hi, I’m Clarissa,” I said. “And you are?”
She stared at me through heavily-lidded eyes. “Queen of Pain and Pleasure.” Her voice was unusually deep for a woman’s, sultry and sexy. It dripped with dark chocolate and promises of bittersweet desserts.
I didn’t offer her my hand. Hers were tipped with long black talons that didn’t exactly entice handshakes.
She traced a pointed fingertip over the table, etching a curved line into the wood. “You broke our laws and killed one of my own. I’m entitled to take you home with me … if I choose.”
All moisture in my mouth wicked away and was replaced by the Sahara. I tried to wet my lips. “Bumblebub said you can’t claim me. The school has already claimed me.”
“That old fool with his paltry Witchkin magic can’t stop a Fae Queen. Especially when the laws are on my side. If I wanted you, all I would have to do is wait until nightfall and I would hunt you down myself.” She looked me up and down, appraising me like I was a bite of savory meat. “Fortunately for you, I don’t want you as tithe. I want you for something better, ma chérie.”
Loud laughter drew the queen’s attention. Two women wearing matching lady bug costumes and elaborate wigs made from yarn skipped by. The queen’s lips parted, and she sucked in a breath. Their laughter wheezed out of them, and they were left coughing and choking as they departed. Chills skated up my spine. I wasn’t sure what she had done—stolen their laughter and joy, their breath, or part of their souls.
The queen leaned back and closed her eyes. She released a long, satiated moan that bordered on sexual. I was uncomfortable watching, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away.
“Pardon me. Sometimes I need a little snack when I’m surrounded by so much Morty magic.” She plucked up my napkin and dabbed at her crimson lips. “As I was saying, I’ll keep you alive and allow you to choose someone else here as my tithe. Select one of the Witchkin you’ve met.” Her gaze lazily raked over the strangers in costumes.
I thought of Thatch who had told me he hated me and tried to make my life miserable at every school where I ever worked. No, I would not choose him. There was the witch dressed like a twenties vamp
who had wanted to kill me on sight. No, I wouldn’t choose her either. I didn’t want to be a murderer. I didn’t want to prove I was the evil person the Witchkin all accused me of being.
I fidgeted under the queen’s piercing gaze, disquieted by what was being asked of me.
“If you have no one in mind, you may select a stranger. It makes no difference to me. There are more than enough unregistered Witchkin in a place such as this. I might pluck someone else up to bring home for amusement.” She rested her chin on her hand, gazing across the breakfast area at a young man without a shirt. He wore a satyr costume and played panpipes. “Most of the Witchkin here don’t even know what they are.” Her eyes came to rest on me again. “Like you.”
That wasn’t true. I did know what I was. Sort of.
“I don’t want anyone to die,” I said.
“Aren’t you precious?” She chuckled, the sound low and reedy like wind rushing through hollow reeds. “You obviously have lived in ignorance about the way the Unseen Realm works. You know nothing of our laws. You killed a Fae. Now you must pay the price.
“As I said, you would be far more useful to me than a simple tithe. If I allow you to go free, you will no doubt accept the invitation to go to Womby’s School for Wayward Witches and learn magic. But there will be a time when you learn not all is as it seems at the institution, and you will desire something more. You will desire power and seek a true master to teach you the ways of magic.” She flicked a hand at me casually. “Like your mother.”
“My mother doesn’t dabble in black magic.” My mom was against pretty much against all magic after what her foster mother had done to her. She hadn’t liked it when I’d become a Narnia fangirl or practiced stage magic with Derrick.
“You wouldn’t know what your mother dabbled in. It was before your time,” the queen said. “I offered her magic no other Witchkin had the opportunity—or the proclivity—to learn. She became my pupil. So it will be with you. When the time comes, you will come to me.”
I shook my head. “Thank you for the kind offer, but—”
She pressed a finger to my lips, the point of her talon digging into my skin. “Our paths will cross again. Better to be on my side than on the other, no?”
Her touch was of winter and decay under layers of snow. Cold radiated over my face and down my throat. The chill was creamy and delicious, like the most addictive cocaine-infused ice cream. Images flashed before my eyes: people chained to dungeon walls, screaming in blissful agony; a cornucopia of sexual positions with creatures I’d never dreamed of existing—half humanoid and half insect-like things; slaves in bondage gear, whipping each other and screaming in pleasure.
She gave me a taste of magic, and I felt inspired to do dark things. Heat flushed to my face, and I was left breathless. I found myself leaning into her touch. Yet there was a sharpness underneath it all, a pleasure so great it hurt. Her world was Fifty Shades of Magic. I got the hint how she’d earned her title Queen of Pleasure and Pain.
She drew her hand back and stood. She waved a hand at the crowd. “Choose one of them. Now.”
I took in a shaky breath. I didn’t know anything about this other world or their rules. The most I had to go off was fairytales. My mom had told me plenty of those. I had never expected any of them to contain anything useful in a life or death situation. There was a chance I did know enough to save myself, though. In the stories my mom had read me, Fae were an eye for an eye. And they would put a Black Friday shopper to shame with their bargaining tactics.
I swallowed. “This is all because I accidentally abra-cadavered your bird servant?”
“Yes, you’re catching on, ma chérie.”
“What if I can restore that bird back to its original state? Then would I be off the hook, and you would go home without claiming your tithe? You would just let me go and everyone else?”
“Ah, a bargain. How delicious!” Her grin grew wider, her sharp teeth fierce and beautiful in their symmetry. I wasn’t sure if my late father would have been impressed as an orthodontist or horrified. “You’ve tempted me. If you think you have enough skill to restore my emissary to her original form, I will waive the tithe. But if you do not,” She ran her tongue along the sharp edges of her teeth, “then I will claim anyone I wish, and I will take you home with me.”
“Um, great,” I said. “How much time do I have to change the bird back?” If I went to the magical school and had time to learn magic—
“You have two magic shows today, do you not? I expect to be wowed by the end of the second show.” She cackled, the sound ominous and very Wicked Witch of the West, but on steroids—with a megaphone.
In a whirlwind of black smoke, she shrank and compressed into a bird once again. She gave one final caw before flapping her wings and flying away.
“Wow, bird is the word, man,” some stoned hippie said as he walked past.
Well, that had gone of well.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
A Witch’s Spelling Test
I changed into my magician’s costume from the day before even though it smelled like sweaty gym clothes. My hands shook as I set up the wooden bird on my prop table on stage. In my nervousness, I accidentally elbowed the bird, and she fell onto the boards. I scooped her up.
“You look a little … high strung today,” Yamil said. “You need anything to take the edge off?” He made the motion of puffing a joint of marijuana.
“No, thanks.” I had no idea what that would do to my already out-of-control magical skills.
I considered ducking out, but only for two seconds. Even if I did make it home, the Raven Queen was going to catch up with me and take someone else as her tithe. I was the one who had caused this fiasco. I was the one who had to clean it up.
My first magic show of the day was the same as the previous day’s morning performance, a small crowd of parents and children. Ravens watched from the tree. The queen sat on the wooden fence, perched high above the crowd. Her long black gown draped downward like the train of a bridal dress, all the way to the dusty earth. She watched impassively, her expression never changing from stony coldness.
No pressure, I told myself.
I tried to cast a spell, concentrating with all my will, but nothing unexpected happened. I said magic words, I waved my pink-striped wand at the wooden bird, and still nothing happened. I had figured out the connection between arousal and witchcraft. That didn’t mean I knew how to make it happen at will. I hadn’t ever intentionally made it rain frogs or transformed anything.
As I performed my Chinese linking rings trick, I imagined Legolas in his armor cutting down orcs with some bad-ass archery moves. Then I focused on the bird. Nothing happened. I remembered the sex-ed lesson that had made bananas undress themselves from their peels and dance. My face flushed with heat, more from embarrassment than arousal.
I imagined Mr. Darcy unabashedly taking off his cravat in a crowded ballroom as people danced around him in period clothing. A little something warm bounced around in my core, but it was hard to tell if it was breakfast percolating in my nervous stomach or magic. There had been that one time I’d been at an ATM and I’d had the hots for that pair of light-up high heels at a sci-fi convention. I’d wanted them so bad it had bordered on sexual. I was sure that was why the cash machine started smoking—because those shoes were smokin’ hot. Still nothing.
Craptacular. I had made a deal with the devil, and I couldn’t figure out how to transform that damned bird to save my life. I glanced at the ravens above. Maybe I could do sleight of hand and make the queen think I had transformed the bird. No, she was too smart for that.
The day was cool, but I was sweating from mental effort. The magic on stage remained illusions and parlor tricks. The queen watched, her gaze intense. She smiled and clapped at the end of the show.
“My next performance is in two hours. You won’t want to miss my finale,” I said with a confident smile I didn’t feel.
I pa
cked up my bag and considered exiting out the back way, but a flock of bird women loitered at the entrance to Phun Way. Unless I was going to accidentally on purpose abra-cadaver all of them—which would be a true feat of magic—I probably couldn’t get away. I remained backstage.
The morning mist lifted, and the sun burned bright and hot. Half an hour before the next show went on, I peeked around the curtain. Witchkin in conical hats seated themselves in the audience. From their grim expressions and furtive glances at the ravens in the tree, I suspected they knew today’s show was more dire than the previous one. I was never going to get into that magic school unless I fixed everything.
I ducked back stage again and waved my wand at the bird. “Abracadabra. Abra-cadaver.”
Weren’t wands supposed to help focus energies? That was how I’d caused the bird to transform in the first place. Maybe I needed a real wand. No, this was a real wand. Felix Thatch had claimed it was his wand the day before.
But how could that be? I’d found the wand in my therapist’s office. My memories grew clearer as I focused on them. Felix Thatch had tested me. He’d battled with my mom, claiming he wanted to help me by draining me. He’d lost his wand in that fight.
And I’d found it. I stared at the pink-and-white striped wand coated with glitter. The paint couldn’t be the reason the wand didn’t work. I’d exploded my feather pillow only weeks ago. That was the night I’d had the dream of Derrick kissing me.
Sexy thoughts, think of some goddamned sexy thoughts, I told myself. Maybe if I took off all my clothes and rubbed the wooden bird suggestively over my body that might help.
Yamil stuck his head back stage. “Ten minutes until you set up. You all right back here?”
“Yep, perfect.”
As soon as Yamil left, I stuck the bird under my tutu and rubbed myself up against it. Nothing.
He ducked back in. “Oh, another thing… .” He looked me up and down.
