Blooming Black: Rosewood Academy of Witches and Mages (Darkly Sweet Book 4)

by Juliann Whicker

  My father saw me and his face brightened slightly. “Ah, here’s the mage who has the pinkie.”

  Every eye came to me. I waved, feeling slightly underdressed in my swim shorts. I hadn’t been thinking about company. This house hadn’t had any for over ten years.

  “You’re the green mage, the dragonlord?” the Creagh asked, coming towards me, pace brisk.

  I shrugged. “Not at the moment. I just came down for a snack. Is the war over? That’s too bad. It was a lot of fun.”

  Her eyes went harder, blacker, more terrifying than I had energy to feel. “The loss of Creagh lives is your responsibility.”

  I laughed before I got my response under control and gave her a smirk instead. “Thank you.”

  She hissed and took another step closer to me, raising her hands into the shape of claws like she wanted to scratch out my eyes. She was welcome to try. “Your forces, Huntsman mercenaries, have been utterly incompetent whether fighting with or against the sorcerer.”

  “Unlike the Creagh who were cursed as a group by one mage. Are you trying to be even less competent and have come here for tips because I assure you, you’re doing great on your own.”

  “Drake, get a drink. We’re having a civil discussion here. They genuinely thought that Sooth was here, pretending to be me.”

  “And how did you convince them otherwise?”

  He shrugged. “Apparently it’s my mustache. Sooth couldn’t have grown such a splendid specimen of mustacular perfection in such a short amount of time.”

  I couldn’t help but notice the look the Creagh female gave my father, one of admiration veering into leering territory. Yes, she liked his mustache. “Why are you going against Sooth now? I thought you were firmly under his control.”

  She grimaced, face going freakish and terrifying. She had the pale, papery skin of a true Creagh. Had my aunt had skin like that when she’d played Darksider witch? “Leadership has undergone some changes during the last few weeks. Those with a higher immunity to his influence now have command.”

  “And yet, you’re here attacking me as though you still worked for Sooth. I don’t know. Maybe you think that those who are resistant to his suggestion are in charge, but I think we’re all dancing to his tune.”

  She hissed and took another step towards me. “Reparations must be made!”

  I stared at her. “I don’t think it’s necessary. You may have attacked an innocent family home, but I think we can forgive it with very little in the way of damages. Stoneburrow might disagree. His equipment might have sustained some injury he’d like to address. I suppose he’ll send his contract mage.”

  “Drake,” my dad said, a sigh in his voice, but his eyes were dancing. This was funny to him. “This charming Creagh leader would like to ally with us against Sooth. It isn’t the time for purposeful misunderstandings.”

  “She’s talking about receiving remuneration for an attack that she didn’t research adequately. In Darkside, Huntsman is in negotiations with dozens of sorcerers who we unwittingly attacked instead of fought for. It isn’t feasible for us to pay for both wrongful damages as well as those inflicted by others. Sooth is not our responsibility, but our enemy. I hope in the future we can coordinate our attacks to mutual satisfaction, but you will not find any quarter here.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You haven’t asked what price we ask.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Drake,” my dad said, coming over with a drink. He handed it to me and shook his head. “They want the pinkie. They think they can come up with a good protection spell over the entire Creagh with an object like that. What are you going to do with it?”

  “Fine. I will present the sorcerer’s digit to the Creagh as an act of goodwill, but one of my men who are under my personal protection will escort the object through the entire process. I’m not interested in giving Sooth back his pinkie. I will take everything from him until he is nothing, not even a memory.”

  The Creagh woman nodded. “Very well. Is the girl well?”

  I stared at her. “What do you mean?”

  “The girl. The one he wants above all things. Is she well?”

  Penny pale and clammy, veins exposed. “It’s time for you to leave.”

  She eyed me for a moment before she turned and took the shoulder of one of the Darksiders. They stepped throughside, leaving me alone with my father.

  I walked over to the white couch and slumped down on it.

  “What happened?”

  “Poison. He didn’t want to kill her. It was a warning. Or something else. I don’t know.” I ran a hand through my hair. He could kill her if he wanted, but he didn’t want to. She was precious to him. The most valuable witch in any world, an abberation without magic. I would give anything if she were just another witch that I could have.

  Chapter 36

  Witch

  I woke up in heaven. Drake’s chest was beneath my cheek, his heart pounding steadily. I slid my hand up his bare stomach up over his chest to rest beneath his chin. The light came in dimly through the pale gauze curtains along with a distant rush of waves.

  “I love you,” I mumbled before turning my lips to his skin.

  “Thanks, Penny. Tell Pitch I love her too.”

  I sat upright and stared at Zach who lay on the big pale bed with his arms behind his head. He wasn’t wearing anything other than swim trunks. The room spun around while I tried to not fall over.

  “Macaroons and lollipops, can you put on a shirt or something?” I had on the jacket, a t-shirt, and a pair of soft black pants. That’s why I’d thought it was Drake, the jacket. It bore his scent and the feel of him. I gripped the pale duvet in my hands and tried to adjust to the harsh reality of waking up to Zachary Stoneburrow.

  “I can, but I don’t want to. Mostly because Penny Lane blankets are too hot. All that hair. I never thought that you’d wake up.”

  I glared at him. “Did I ask you to be my pillow?”

  He grinned again. “Actually, you did. ‘Don’t leave me alone,’ you said. ‘Hold me tight,’ you said. ‘Never let me go.’ Oh, yeah, it’s been a good time if you like that sort of thing. I don’t, but someone had to keep you from going into shock, and Drake had other essential things to do. He’s right, he really needs a tan more than me. I already look pretty amazing.”

  I blinked at him. “Shock?”

  He brushed my cheek with his fingers then pressed his hand against my forehead. “The fever is mostly gone. Still, you’re a little bit clammy. You must feel terrible.”

  I hadn’t until he mentioned it. I sank back down on the bed, this time on a pillow beside his head. Somehow it felt even more uncomfortable to stare at Zach’s face than to have my cheek against his heart.

  I closed my eyes. “I got sick? Sunstroke? I guess that’s a thing.”

  “What do you remember, Penny Lane? Take your time. I’m actually quite comfortable now that you aren’t clinging to me like a limpet on a rock.”

  “What’s a limpet? Did you make that up? I remember sleeping in Drake’s car and then sneaking into the jet and getting stuck there. I remember throwing up a lot. Sorry. You probably had to clean your jet.”

  He wiggled his eyebrows. “Luckily, we hire people for that sort of thing. I would have done a better job. I’m an excellent custodian. That’s something you should keep in mind. You still need a husband, right?”

  I blinked at him. “Are you applying for the position?”

  His lips twitched. “What are the benefits? Will you drool on me every night or only every time you get poisoned?”

  I gasped and gripped the blanket tighter. “Poisoned? Who poisoned me? Was it Drake’s dad? I shouldn’t have eaten what he made me even if he tested it.”

  “The thing is, we don’t know. It’s quite a mystery. We were off playing with Creagh while you were supposed to be relaxing on a piano, and then the next thing we know, your knee is the size of your head and your veins are turning black. Think, Penny. Do you remembe
r what happened?”

  I closed my eyes and gripped his wrist. The piano. Drake telling me he loved something about me. Then… A face, blurry at first formed and a voice along with it.

  I said in a quiet voice, “Scratch and Titch. Scratch was tall, with a face pointed in two directions. Like his profile was on the front of the left side of his face. Such a strange face. His hands were huge, with fingers that narrowed into needle-like points. I could pick locks beautifully with those fingers.”

  The tall stranger had walked around the piano while I’d clung to a pillow, my bones shattering, skin slicing into ribbons. I was utterly defenseless if not for the piano. He’d taken his time, as though the house belonged to him instead of being an intruder. When he’d spoken, his voice was low, gentle, persuasive.

  “Pretty girl. I’m Scratch. I’ve come to take you home. You want to go home, don’t you?”

  I’d swallowed. “Not with you.”

  His smile was so strange, horrific probably, with teeth angling out in different directions. “You are a surprise.”

  He’d come for Pitch but found me instead.

  “Penny?” Zach rubbed my arm, his face concerned as he brought me back into the sunny bedroom. He wanted Pitch, too. “Do you remember anything else?”

  I squeezed my eyes closed. I remembered. “His name was Scratch. Titch was the witch with spider legs. She’s the one who bit me. I got too close to the edge of the piano.”

  “What did they want?”

  I could still hear the strange man’s voice, see his eyes widen showing lavender streaked irises. One eye focused past me.

  “Titch, I believe she’s an aberration and without magic. I haven’t seen one of those for a long time, but the way she looks at me, questioning as though her automatic response isn’t distrust and disgust, that’s the first clue. The second is that she hasn’t cursed us yet. Look at her. Perfectly vulnerable. We’ll be fighting wars over this one. So pretty, too. Your right, that hair, neck, ankles, and such feet. She’ll go for a much better price whole than in pieces, though. Don’t get careless. Aberrations are so delicate.”

  A skittering had caught my attention. I’d turned my head and looked past the piano on the other side. A smiling old lady head with sweet crinkly eyes was perched on top of a spider body and legs. She kept smiling even as she moved back and forth, eyes fixed on me. So, Scratch had been looking at her and me at the same time.

  I’d shuddered and swung back to stare at Scratch. “What are you?”

  He’d crouched down until his eyes were on the level with the top of the grand piano, studying me like he was finding his own answers. “I’m a Scratcher. Not a killer, not a thief, I’m a getter. I’m a plan failer. Your mind is a tangle. So many broken memories, tangling up the whenses and the whoses. I won’t be able to get you. We won’t be paid.” His eyebrows lowered before he shrugged bony shoulders. “We’ll leave a warning. I’ll give you a memory. Two, Titch? Because her feet are so pretty?” He nodded and smiled, those teeth so sharp and jagged, such a mess of a mage, going in two directions at once. Maybe he wasn’t a mage.

  “How did you get in here? There are supposed to be barriers.”

  “Barriers can be scratched. Careful, Titch. Aberrations are so delicate.”

  “What’s an aberration? I’m not delicate. This is what happens after I kill Creagh. Do delicate things kill Creagh?”

  “No magic, pretty girl. No magic, no madness. No madness, no hatred for mages. No hate, just love. Loving and being loved, the most precious magic of all. But there’s more to you. So much sizzling.”

  “How could not having magic be valuable? It makes no—” He’d lunged at me, snapping with his terrible teeth and I’d jerked back. My knee brushed the boundary of the piano and Titch was on me, only a touch of her nice, grandma looking teeth that felt as sharp as razors and I’d been bitten.

  I’d gone limp immediately, the venom putting me into a strangely painless lethargy until I’d remembered. Two memories he’d given me. Two because I had such pretty feet.

  My hands were shaking as I curled up in bed beside Zach and pressed my knees against his chest. “Hold onto me, Zach.”

  He sighed and pulled me closer, wrapping his arms around my back, hands strong, steady, warm. “I wonder how many times we’ll have to do this.”

  I peered over my knees at him. “We’ve done this before?”

  He shrugged. “Not exactly. There’s a picture that you never remember however many times I show you. Your memory isn’t exactly your strong point.”

  “Picture? Do you have it?”

  He reached over for his phone, and showed me a picture of a badly drawn crashed car, a Sorcerer coming towards the viewer, toes poking up on the edge of the page. I blinked and remembered.

  The smell of blood was everywhere, hot in the cold wind. Was it winter? The wind was so cold, howling around me while I cried. For a long time I lay on the ground drowning in my blood, crying for my mother. When the man had come, I didn’t know what to think. He smiled very kindly, his pale eyes twinkling as he held out his hand to me.

  My mother hit him from the side, her face pale, eyes dark and determined. Anger filled her eyes with a tinge of fear. They fought, but my mother was already broken, wounded from the crash, and every time she hurt him, she screamed, as though she were hurting herself.

  He hit her, cutting through her with suddenly razor-long nails before flinging her to the side for the final time when she didn’t get up. I watched him come towards me. Again smiling, hand outstretched, a spray of my mother’s blood across his cheek.

  “It’s time to come home, my precious. Don’t cry. You are a precious treasure, my crowning jewel. Don’t be afraid. Your mother will be with you. We’ll all be together again.”

  My mother. I turned to see her, pale arm outstretched, twined with blood that was dark on her skin. He’d hurt my mother. The world grew dark and a girl spun out of the shadows, no larger than me, but her eyes were darkness, her lips black as her hair.

  She stood between myself and the sorcerer, one hand held up. “You cannot take her.”

  The Sorcerer lunged at her, but she dissolved, and reformed inside him, sending bits of him exploding out with a horrible smell. His eyes were suddenly large, the self-congratulatory smirk replaced with uncertainty. His body should have healed quickly, but when he looked down to see the torn flesh, he shook his head and stepped back away from her.

  “What are you?”

  “I am the darkness inside. There is no end to the pain. You will cry.”

  Pitch saved me, but he’d cursed me, the words harsh, Darksider before he vanished in a whirl of smoke and snow. Pitch went to my mother, picked her up and carried her to me. The feel of Pitch’s fingers on my face, insubstantial and cold, like brushing the surface of water, I remembered that. The sound of my mother’s screams as Pitch brought her awake, I remembered that too, and then my mother tracing out a pattern in the snow mixed with blood until the world flashed and there was Revere. He had a book in his hand and looked up slowly, staring at my mother as though she were the only thing in the world. He closed the book with a snap and with that, I was back in bed with Zach, sobbing like I was still that little girl in the snow, cursed by a sorcerer, protected by Pitch.

  “Sh, Penny. It’s okay. No one’s going to curse you here.” Zach stroked my hair, his voice only slightly irritated.

  I shuddered and put my hand on my back at the base of my spine. The curse. Drake always called it a curse, but I couldn’t remember being cursed, couldn’t remember drawing the picture. Memories. My memories had been broken. How many memories were lost?

  He’d said he’d give me two memories. I didn’t want to remember because I knew it would hurt, but I had to know. I went over the first memory, the details of the mage, the monster, and then his eyes, pale blue, I knew those eyes.

  My second memory. Pain. My side. Agony filled the world and the mage who smiled at me, my blood dripping from his fingers,
fingers that held two small bones, curved like ribs, bones that looked so delicate, so easily broken. My mother. Her screaming, slashing his face with her nails, pulling me against her chest and whirling away with me while she smelled of exhaustion, blood, but a different kind. Birth.

  The memory was short, but I could still see the monster’s eyes, his nose, a nose an awful lot like mine.

  I sat up on the bed, staring into space for a long time while the pieces fell into place. My father stole my ribs. Not only my ribs. My magic. My mother had taken me away. There were vague memories of stairs and motels, always moving, always packing, and then the accident, the curse, when my father found us and Pitch fought him off, Pitch, the darkness inside him. I had the darkness of a mage so evil, he could rip the ribs out of his newborn baby. That explained so much about my life.

  “Penny, are you okay?”

  I turned to look at Zach, a mage. All mages were evil. I’d really thought that I understood that, but it was starting to register. My own father had mutilated me for my magic. Not just my magic, to create a witch without magic. To create his, ‘crowning jewel’.

  “Where’s Drake?”

  “By the pool.”

  I got up and staggered to the door before I straightened and took a few deep breaths.

  “Hey, Penny, I can get him for you if you want. I don’t think you’re ready to be running around.”

  I shook my head and left the room. It was Drake’s. No one else smelled like that, fire, water, dragon. I took the stairs carefully, heart pounding harder with every step. The pool was opposite the deck. My room looked out on it. That would make it this direction. I walked unseeing past beautiful things that didn’t matter until I got to the glass door. I stepped into the sunshine and for a moment just stood there, staring at Drake where he sat in a chair, eyes closed, phone at his ear. I went towards him not realizing there was a pool between us until I stepped off the side and dropped like a stone. It was wet. And I couldn’t swim.