Otherworldly Discipline: A Witch's Lesson

by Korey Mae Johnson

  “Poor thing,” the man finally huffed from behind her. “She doesn’t seem to have a high pain threshold. I suppose I could cast a sleeping spell on her. A light one would only take her out of commission for a year or two.”

  Moriarty sighed, “I don’t want to do that to her. A year or two?”

  “Only because you want that year,” the man chided. “I tell you now that she does not.”

  Moriarty pursed his lips. “I will… consider it.” He was saying this softly, like he didn’t want Alice to hear it. She balled back up in her covers as the man walked out, giving Moriarty’s shoulder a friendly squeeze on the way out.

  “Let me know when you decide,” the man said. When he left, Moriarty sighed and laid on the bed next to Alice. She felt his body weight shift in the bed behind her until he pulled her up against his chest. “Who was that?” she asked weakly, her voice broken.

  “My employer and best friend,” Moriarty sighed. “A very powerful wizard—Ashcroft Medwin.”

  She was too tired to be excited about having met an actual wizard. The pain was so retching around her that the announcement fluttered through her brain and seemed to die before she properly reacted to it. “And he wants to put me to sleep for years?”

  “Sleeping spells are normally set strong. It might be even longer than that,” Moriarty grumbled. “And he’s right—I’m being selfish. I just… I just like the sound of your voice, I suppose. And I like your eyes to be open.”

  “You couldn’t have possibly liked me at all since you’ve brought me here,” Alice replied grumpily, not believing him. It was impossible. She was weak, tired, wretched, and ill. Surely, she was far from being considered ‘a catch’. And even when she was on top of her game, she didn’t think she’d quite qualify.

  There was oddness to her looks that she didn’t quite care for. She didn’t have the same sort of looks the other honey nymphs had; they were all darker colored, dark brunettes or black hair, ruby red lips, and dark brooding eyes. Their skin was far tanner, their nails far longer and harder, and their curves were much more… well, perfect. Honey nymphs were normally so pretty they have a look like something that didn’t grow through nature.

  Alice knew that she had tons of imperfections, and she didn’t like anything about her features, anything about the way she was shaped, or the color of her hair and skin. She was so plain-Jane compared to the others…

  “It’s impossible not to like you,” Moriarty assured. “Believe me; I’ve tried not to the last month, to no avail. Even your tears are likable.”

  She smiled weakly. “I’m glad you think I’m charming, but skipping out on a few years seems like the least of my worries right now,” she admitted frankly.

  “I think you can get through this, Darling,” Moriarty told her. “I know you don’t think so now, but I think you can. Let’s not be so rash as to put a sleeping spell on you. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” He kissed her earlobe and then she felt an ice cold washcloth cover her neck. It felt lovely on the skin that felt so inflamed. She actually felt herself nod off.

  * * *

  Everything was in place. Charlotte hated being so blatantly mischievous. She felt like what she was about to do was something someone would read in a Babysitter’s Club book, or something of the sort. But it couldn’t be helped. Her heart had already gone out to the girl, and doubly so when she caught eye contact.

  Alice had silently begged her for help. She was in absolute agony.

  “Back, back, back,” she ordered the trees around the animal barn. She had gotten all the animals out, releasing them all into the fields earlier that morning, and her potion was sitting on a trey in her bedroom, ready to be tested out.

  The trees heaved an audible groan as they moved their roots out of the ground at her command and moved themselves a few feet back, which Charlotte thought was lazy. She picked up a lighter. “I’m going to use this,” she threatened, and lit a flame for illustration.

  The trees moved away with a much higher degree of enthusiasm, moving slowly towards the gardens. Charlotte watched them, thinking about how much trees looked like strange octopuses when they were moving around. But she was a Byndian—a witch of the earth and air; the trees simply had to listen to her.

  After she was sure they left, she lit her lighter and threw it into the hay, and then threw an oil lamp on it all. Now, the old, drafty building would burn down. That should keep everyone busy for awhile, if nothing else would, and then they would probably try to find where the horses ran off too…

  She rushed back to the tower and slammed the door. “Ashcroft! Moriarty!” she said, brushing the snow from her shoulders.

  Ashcroft appeared at the landing, looking bewildered. “What?”

  “The whole barn’s on fire! It’s blazing! I just saw it!”

  Ashcroft dropped the book he was holding on the landing as her words were echoed with the sound of the outside emergency bell. “Moriarty!” he boomed, rushing down the stairs.

  Moriarty was also quick to appear. “What?”

  “Fire! Outside!” Charlotte announced as Ashcroft quickly tugged on his jacket.

  Moriarty rolled his eyes and cursed before disappearing back into his room. She turned towards Ashcroft. “Can I help?” she asked, trying to look frightened.

  “No,” Ashcroft told her firmly. “Stay in here.”

  “But—” she said, pretending to argue.

  Ashcroft whirled around and pointed a finger at her and said, “No, Charlotte. And I mean it. I won’t have you getting hurt.” He watched Moriarty finally rush down the stairs to follow, clumsily shrugging on his jacket. “We will be fine. We have done this many a time.”

  With that, they both disappeared through the front door. Charlotte opened the door and stood out on the porch. She snapped her fingers and suddenly a howl of wind made the fire admit a big BOOM! From inside the center, spraying sparks everywhere like an inferno.

  Yep. That should definitely keep them busy.

  She whistled, whirled around, and then walked inside and walked to her private room to grab her tools. Within five minutes, she was using a small spell to unlock Moriarty’s door and step in with a tray. “Good afternoon!” she announced to the girl writhing in the fetal position on the bed. “How are we feeling? In the mood for being my guinea pig? Because I am totally sure this will make you fill a million times better. Very low risk of death.”

  * * *

  Alice eyed the girl who she had seen, who stepped confidentially into the room with a tray. “Wh—who are you?”

  “Charlotte,” the girl replied with a cartoonish yet proud smile. “I thought I’d make the most of it while the men are outside working on some sort of emergency.”

  “M-Moriarty said there was a fire,” Alice announced shyly, and then sniffled. Her body flinched when Charlotte pulled the covers off of her completely with a fluid motion.

  “Yeah, but I set it. It was the only way to get Moriarty out of this room for more than five minutes. This won’t take long, but certainly not THAT fast,” Charlotte said with a slight giggle and waved towards the door, which shut itself and locked promptly.

  And then Alice realized that that’s what happened. “You’re a witch?” she asked scratchily, blinking hard.

  “For sure!” Charlotte replied in a very American accent. “But I’m totally a good witch,” she assured. Charlotte seemed to pause thoughtfully but then added, “Except for the fire. That wasn’t the nicest thing I’ve ever done. But I’m going to make you feel so good that I’m not going to let myself even feel bad about it.” She walked up to Charlotte and said, “I’m gonna undress you, ‘kay? Don’t worry—no funny business,” she informed with a wink, and then quickly started to unbutton the front of Alice’s pajama shirt.

  “What are you…” Alice asked, but Charlotte quickly undressed her, clicking her tongue.

  “Don’t worry! I’m a witch, but I’m totally gonna make you feel awesome.”

  “What are you goi
ng to do?” Alice asked, worried especially as she heard Charlotte skip into the bathroom and start the bathtub. Alice could see steam come out from the room by the time Charlotte reemerged.

  “You’re gonna love this, I promise,” Charlotte said, and then seemed to size up Alice. “Help me help you make it there, okay? I think we’re the same size, but I’m not an ant by any means, so… Carrying you all the way ain’t happening.” Charlotte pulled Alice into standing and them slung her arm around her shoulder.

  “What do you plan to…” Alice strained, startled by how much energy walking across the room was taking. Just setting her feet on the ground seemed to shoot razor blades of pain up her muscles. She gave a whimper.

  “Jeesh! And Ashcroft worried you were dangerous to me?” Charlotte mocked. “Come on! Go, go, go!” Charlotte said, undeterred, but also straining her own voice. Charlotte was probably even an inch or two shorter than Alice, so Alice imagined that it was a workout for her. “You’ll be so happy you did this!” She helped her get into the tub and let Alice practically fall in, splashing water everywhere before her head surfaced above her water. The hot water made her scream. Not because it was too hot—because it made all her pain a million times worse.

  Charlotte pretended that she didn’t hear it. She walked out of the bathroom, and returned with her tray filled with liquids and salts, and started to dump them all into the water one by one.

  Alice was mid-way through a scream when she realized the pain was subsiding. She swallowed.

  “Feels better, doesn’t it?” Charlotte said knowingly, putting down the tray and kneeling next to the tub.

  With strange horror, Alice watched as what looked like honey ooze from her body. She gasped and tried to stand up.

  “Relax,” Charlotte assured, putting her hand on Alice’s shoulder. “It’s the toxin that nectar leaves behind. This is what causes nectar sickness…” She waved her hand to illustrate the color. “It looks totally groady, though. I agree. I wouldn’t want to sit in it, either. But, too bad,” Charlotte giggled. “Still feels good, though, right? You don’t hear the angel of death’s wings flapping or anything?”

  Good? Alice was sure that she had died and gone to heaven. Her eyelids were even growing heavy. Had she ever felt this relaxed? This happy? This free?

  She woke up to Charlotte’s finger poking her sharply on her shoulder. “No falling asleep in the bath. SO dangerous. If you drowned in the tub, Moriarty would never let me hear the end of it!”

  Even the look of Charlotte began to be clearer, as if she’d been seeing everything in a haze. “Sorry,” she sighed. “I’ve barely slept! You’re amazing! I never want to get out of here!”

  Charlotte smiled and had Alice lay her head back, just to get her hair wet. Alice felt better every moment. She even felt somehow energetic, like her muscles were more flexible, her sight was better—everything was better! Had she been living in a nightmare before?

  “And just think!” Charlotte chirped proudly when Alice raised her head out of the water. “Moriarty and Ashcroft were never going to let me touch you! Thought I’d screw you all up or that you’d go into some murderous, desperate rage to kill me or use me to get back to your hive!”

  Alice shook her head, still astounded by how she felt—like she was normal! But she could still remember how she did feel. Maybe she would have used Charlotte, if she had enough strength to? “Well, I’m happy you’re comfortable with breaking the rules,” Alice admitted.

  “Of course I am,” Charlotte said, and then added with a wink, “I’m an American.”

  “You think they’ll figure out it was you who caused the fire?” Alice asked, looking a bit worried for Charlotte, although she doubted that a witch would be so easily chided, or even kicked out.

  “They can bite me,” Charlotte replied confidently. “I’m a total success. Besides, once they see you, how can they possibly be upset with me?” She gave an honest, innocent shrug. “Besides, Moriarty needs to get back to his old self. It’s been forever now since I’ve been berated by him, and I’m actually beginning to miss it. I mean, what are they gonna do? Give me a spanking for bending the rules a little?”

  Alice giggled at the idea, blushing slightly as she recalled Moriarty spanking her as play over a month ago. But she couldn’t help but notice that Charlotte was blushing, too.

  * * *

  Moriarty was exhausted when he came back into the room. Of course, he was exhausted before he ran outside to take care of a fire, and then track down a whole barn full of animals in sub-freezing temperatures.

  And then he came into a miracle: Alice was sleeping, peacefully. She wasn’t shuddering nor convulsing. She was just lightly breathing, as if she wasn’t in any pain at all. In fact, she was sleeping deeply enough that she hadn’t heard him come in.

  He felt ridiculous with how slow he was moving as he sat down to tug off his hunting boots, hung up his coat and wool cap, and then got into bed with her, never taking his eyes off of her. But his paranoia must have worked, because she didn’t wake.

  He rolled over to be as close to her as he dared and took a breath of her. Lord, she smelt heavenly, and her body was radiating warmth. He would have killed to be able to put his arms around her, but he couldn’t risk waking her and restarting her nightmare.

  Sleep came quickly to him, anyway. Last time he’d been so tired he was fighting in a war, one battle after another for a string of two months as he barely ate and slept on the ground. That being said, even in that scenario he’d probably slept more than he had in this one. Alice had emotionally drained him. He couldn’t help feeling bad for her, wishing that he could just take her pain and give it to himself. But he was absolutely worthless to help her.

  Needless to say, he was absolutely flabbergasted when he woke up, feeling light, fluttery kisses on his shoulder. Alice’s hand was petting his stomach over his shirt, slowly trying to put her arms around him.

  Maybe it felt nice for a moment, but then he worried that she was going to make a move to kill him. It had happened before—Moriarty wouldn’t be the first man seduced and killed by a recovering Nymph, after all. Nymphs would commonly find strength and power they didn’t even know they had.

  He grabbed her hand before his eyes opened, but then sat up and looked down at Alice’s wide, embarrassed eyes.

  Her hand was so still in his hand. It wasn’t shaking; it was warm, not cold or clammy. And Alice didn’t have a fever, now. She looked just as healthy as the first time he had seen her. Her skin was smooth, silky, and golden; not pink and flushed.

  Well, now her cheeks were pink. She was blushing. “I’m sorry!” she said. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I know you’re tired…”

  He let go of her hand and then leaned across the bed and over her body. He was very aware; ready to pounce at the slightest sign of her turning on him, and put his hand over her forehead. “You don’t have a fever,” he said aloud with the discovery. He lowered his eyebrows. “How is that possible?”

  Alice’s hands gently pushed him out of her personal space. “Charlotte,” Alice crossed her legs, Indian style and then rested her chin on her hands and her elbows on her knees. “Her experiment worked! I feel really, really well.”

  He blinked. That couldn’t have been true—it was too good to be true. “Charlotte was in here?” was all he could say.

  “Don’t be angry at her!” Alice quickly chided, looking like she judged his expression as worried or angry. “She took a risk, but look at me!” She opened her arms and gestured at herself, at how healthy she looked. “I could climb a mountain right now. I haven’t felt so good in years! No more nectar sickness.”

  He shook his head dubiously. Well, at least she was no longer crying. But there was no way that Charlotte could have found the cure to nectar sickness. She was still a baby, for god sakes. Ashcroft was over a millennia old and didn’t think there was a cure in sight—and he’d have known. Ashcroft did nothing if not kept a close ear to the ground to all the wizar
ding factions.

  “Really! And I can’t harvest anymore, anyway. My Queen would simply have me killed if I went back.”

  “Most nymphs would prefer that option,” he admitted.

  She shrugged. “Well, I’ve always been sort of odd,” she admitted. “I’m only a half-blood honey nymph.”

  He squinted and snorted, sure she had to be lying. “There’s no such thing. They wouldn’t allow a half-blood into the hive. Your mother would have been killed long before you were born, just to prevent the birth, and then they’d have hunted down and killed the father.” Nymphs weren’t known to be open minded. They kept their race pure. It was easy enough; they would only breed with the elusive male nymphs, who took several brides at once. Immortals could only breed with other immortals, anyway.

  But then again—there was a reason he’d been so shocked that she was a honey nymph. She was different. She was blonde. She had cute little imperfections, even a few freckles on her nose.

  And then Alice grew animated, quickly going into the story of her life—how her father was her mother’s greatest secret—not even Alice knew who it was. She talked about her growing up in the kitchens, scorned, and rejected… Although she didn’t seem too sad about it. She didn’t even wince during the story; she spoke about her life and her mother’s recent execution almost as if it happened to someone else’s family. But she looked like she couldn’t have been happier than she was at this very moment, curling her fingers around his as she spoke even about her own imprisonment.

  He found he didn’t know what to say to her story. It was so sad to him, and he had heard some real horrible stories in his lifetime.

  “What?” he found himself asking, looking hard at her.

  “Do you like puns?” she asked.

  “No,” he replied, confused. “Why?”

  She smirked. “Well, because I was about to say, ‘biting you was a bit below the-belt’, but then you look sort of not in the mood for humor…” She jumped up enthusiastically to her knees. “Moriarty, I’m better! Aren’t you happy! Be happy with me!” She bounced cutely on the mattress.