Spell It Out for Me

by Sarina Dorie

  She made a face. “Miss Lawrence, that is worse than someone saying their dog ate their homework. No one is going to believe you just happened to run into your boyfriend.”

  One of the guards coughed, probably agreeing with the sentiment. They weren’t making this easier.

  I looked to Elric and waved my hand at his guards. “Could we have some privacy?”

  Elric nodded to his men. They backed away. Probably they wouldn’t travel out of earshot. It was unlikely we had true privacy, only the illusion of it.

  I looked to Elric. “You too.”

  “Me? But I want to help you.”

  “I want to have a girl’s talk with Imani without anyone else around.”

  His eyes were hurt, but he nodded. Noisily, he stomped off into the brush. I couldn’t tell if the stomping was because he was annoyed or because he was proving he was actually leaving.

  “And take all your guards with you,” I said. I didn’t know if he would. I didn’t see them from where they’d glamoured themselves into the background.

  I turned to Imani and lowered my voice. “I know you followed me today with that invisibility hoodie. Where did you get it?”

  She bit her lip. “I don’t want to say.”

  There were a few of them floating around. One had been locked up in Khaba’s office. “Did you steal it?”

  “No! Someone gave it to me.”

  “Hailey?”

  “No. Someone else.”

  I had a suspicion who that might have been, considering how few people were on campus right now. I doubted she would tell me the truth if pressed.

  “The guards said you saw through their glamours and enchantments. Is that true?”

  She shrugged.

  Imani didn’t know any complex spells that could help her see through Fae magic. Not that we had studied such spells together before, anyway.

  “What kind of spell did you use? It’s dangerous playing with powerful magic that you don’t know how to control.” I could attest to that from my experiences.

  “I didn’t play with any magic. Someone else made the potion for me and gave it to me to use.”

  A potion? That confirmed my suspicions that Thatch had helped her.

  “Why did you follow me today?”

  “Mr. Thatch asked me to keep an eye on you. He told me I needed to let him know if you were doing anything dangerous.”

  “Do you think I was doing anything dangerous?”

  She looked me up and down. “Why are you all wet?”

  I laughed. “Okay, that was kind of dangerous. When I heard you scream, I fell in the pond and was swimming with the mermaids.”

  Her eyes went wide. “Did they try to eat you?”

  “No, just drown me.”

  She gasped.

  “Imani, I have to know if you’re going to tell on me. If Mr. Thatch tells Principal Bumblebub, we aren’t going to be allowed to stay here. Neither of us are going to get to learn magic this summer. I’ll have to go home, but I don’t know what I’ll do with you.” I lowered my voice. “Because of your passive magic—the way you draw out the magic of others—you can’t be around Maddy for prolonged periods of time.”

  She swallowed. “One of us will have to go work in a dwarf-run coal mine.”

  “I’d like for us to find a way to avoid that, but I don’t know what we’ll do for the summer. We both need someplace safe. You can’t be left unattended.” I couldn’t talk about her affinity without giving her secret away. “If you understand why, nod your head.”

  She nodded. She was smart enough not to say the reason with Fae potentially listening in.

  She kicked at a fallen pinecone at her feet. “Are you mad at me?”

  “Yes. And disappointed you didn’t listen to me. However, I’m not so mad that I won’t show you the mermaids if you promise to mind me better in the future.”

  “Really? I can see the mermaids?”

  “If they show themselves. Just don’t get too close to the water.” I gestured to my soggy clothes. “They like to hug, and it doesn’t matter if it’s above water where you can breathe or underneath where you can’t.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  A Real Pain in the Ass

  Imani spent the afternoon with Elric and me at the pond feeding the mermaids. She was interested in the story about the hook in the mermaid’s mouth. The entire time, Elric remained an appropriate distance from me. He didn’t make physical contact with me or act like a boyfriend. As much as I would have liked to hold his hand or lean against him, I knew myself well enough to know how my affinity changed me through physical touch.

  From the pensive glances Elric flashed at me, I knew he was nervous about Imani’s presence.

  While she was preoccupied with flinging worms at the mermaids, he whispered, “If you change your mind about me erasing her memories, let me know.”

  I didn’t change my mind. I could trust her. There was no reason to violate her memories that way.

  After about an hour, Imani and I walked back to school without him. The aroma of meat and vegetables wafted down the hallway as we made our way toward the dormitories. The grandfather clock in the hallway showed it was five to five. Dinner would be ready in the kitchen. We got cleaned up in the upstairs bathroom and then went down to the kitchen.

  A small pot of soup was on the stove. We helped ourselves to bowls and slices of bread before heading out to the great hall. All the empty benches at clean tables in a silent room made me feel like we were walking into a graveyard more than a cafeteria. We sat at the table on the dais where teachers ate.

  It was a good thing I set down my bowl of soup while I was still standing. The moment I sat down, a sharp pain stabbed my right butt cheek. I shrieked and stood, but this only made the pain worse.

  Imani stared at me with wide eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  It took me a moment to articulate through the pain. “The fish hook.” I reached into the back pocket of my jeans, trying not to tug on the fabric in a way that made the pain worse. The hook was definitely imbedded in my behind.

  I fought back tears of pain—and humiliation. “Oh no! It’s stuck.”

  Imani stood. “I’ll go get Mr. Thatch.”

  “No way. I don’t want him to know about this.” If only Elric was still here.

  “But Mr. Thatch is good at dissecting things.”

  “I don’t want to be dissected. I’m not a frog.” I eased myself back into the chair, my weight on my left hip.

  She crossed her arms. “How are you going to take it out?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe with a mirror.”

  She pursed her lips like I was the insufferable child and she was the teacher. “I’m getting Mr. Thatch.” She stepped toward the edge.

  “No. I already told you we aren’t telling him.” I stood up. That made it worse. Moaning, I sank into the chair, favoring my left hip.

  Thatch’s crisp accent came from nearby. “You aren’t telling Mr. Thatch what?” He stood in the doorway to the kitchen, a bowl in his hands.

  “Nothing,” I said quickly. I gave Imani the stink eye and shook my head at her.

  Thatch looked from me to Imani and shrugged.

  “Do you want to eat dinner with us?” Imani asked.

  Damn it! Why did she have to do that?

  He strode toward the dais. “I would rather eat alone in the solitude of my office, surrounded by instruments of torture—like the student transcripts that I’m reading.”

  I sighed in relief, only for my misery to return as he went on.

  “Then again, an opportunity to torment Miss Lawrence with my presence is always welcome.” He strode up the steps of the dais.

  If I didn’t move or breathe, it didn’t hurt. Too bad I needed to do both to eat.

  Thatch’s eyes narrowed at me. “Why are you sitting like that?”

  “No reason.”

  Imani guffawed. I shook my
head at her.

  I focused on my affinity, attempting to funnel the pain into energy. I imagined numbing ice surrounding the injury. It wasn’t so different from the meditations in the uncomfortable torture chair. I was able to ease myself into a more normal sitting position. The problem was the concentration it took. I could only manage a spoonful of soup once every minute. I blocked out Imani’s conversation with Thatch so I could focus on controlling the pain.

  Thatch raised an eyebrow at me. I realized he’d said something.

  “What was that?” I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

  “Is the soup that good?”

  My bowl was still full while he and Imani were almost done with theirs. I shifted my weight to the left butt cheek and managed a few mouthfuls.

  Jeb sauntered into the great hall a moment later. He waved. Imani waved back.

  Thatch stared at me intently. “Miss Lawrence, what did you do to yourself?”

  “Nothing.”

  Thatch set down his spoon. “I happen to be a Merlin-class Celestor. My empathic abilities tell me you’re in discomfort. You can’t lie to me.”

  I wanted to laugh. It was his Red affinity fueled by pain that told him I had a serious pain in the butt right now—in addition to him. Thatch continued to stare me down.

  Imani leaned closer to Thatch. “Miss Lawrence sat on a fish hook and now it’s lodged in her heinie.”

  “Imani!” I covered my face with my hands, wishing more than ever that I could hide.

  “He said you can’t lie to him,” she said. “Why bother trying?”

  Thatch smirked. “How, pray tell, did you sit on a fish hook?”

  “Long story.” I didn’t feel like telling it.

  Unfortunately, Imani did. I shook my head at her. She gave an abridged version of us at the pond and my heroic feats rescuing a mermaid from cold iron. I kicked her under the table, hoping she wouldn’t share anything about Elric. The kick hurt me more than it did her.

  “It ain’t a good idea to feed the mermaids,” Jeb said. “They’re nasty creatures, and they bite.”

  Imani laughed. “Our mermaid was nice to us.”

  Maybe that was because Elric had introduced us. Or because we’d removed the hook from her mouth.

  Thatch finished eating first, but he remained seated, his hands folded in front of him. He watched me, occasionally making polite remarks to Imani’s cheerful conversation such as, “How kind of Miss Lawrence to take you on a walk with her today.” Or, “Aren’t we lucky Miss Lawrence is such a positive role model for her students?”

  Every comment sounded more like a jab at my character or professionalism.

  I tried to concentrate on minimizing the pain.

  At last Thatch said, “What is your plan for removing the hook from your posterior?”

  “A mirror,” I said.

  He nodded. “Do you plan on doing this yourself, or are you enlisting Imani’s assistance?”

  I glanced at Imani. She shook her head. I looked to Jeb. Red soup stained his mustache. His hand shook ever so slightly as he raised a last bit of potato to his lips. His lack of coordination didn’t reassure me that he would be able to help me.

  “Myself,” I said.

  “You would try to perform minor surgery on yourself?” Thatch sighed. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

  I shook my head.

  “Don’t be stubborn. You can’t possibly handle the pain involved.”

  That was probably true. If I could wait until the next day, though, I could ask Elric to help me. Then again, he wasn’t going to be able to use magic because the metal contained iron.

  Thatch handed a ring of old-fashioned keys to Imani from his vest pocket. “Do you remember where I keep the gauze in my office closet?”

  She jumped to her feet. “I do!” She snatched up the keys and ran off.

  “You aren’t performing surgery on me,” I said.

  “Why not?”

  “It wouldn’t be professional for you to see my derriere.”

  “Might I remind you, I have seen you naked, and somehow I managed to restrain myself. It couldn’t have anything to do with my ability to maintain a professional distance?”

  I looked to Jeb for an objection, but he only asked, “When did Felix see you naked, darlin’?”

  “Um. . . .”

  “I dressed Miss Lawrence’s wounds after Julian Thistledown attacked her.”

  Jeb nodded. “That’s right. I suppose he got an eyeful then.”

  Thatch nodded to Jeb. “Can you spare some rubbing alcohol from the infirmary?”

  “Sure can.” Jeb pushed himself up, grunting as he did so. He shuffled off.

  I crossed my arms, glaring at Thatch. In the process, I must have shifted my weight, because the hook stabbed me again, making me flinch.

  Thatch placed a hand on my shoulder. “Please don’t do this to yourself just because you hate me.”

  The warmth of his hand stole my attention.

  “I don’t hate you.” I just hated myself when I was around him. I hated to admit I might have feelings for him. “I don’t like some of the things you say to me. I don’t like it when you boss me around and don’t mind your own business when it comes to my love life.”

  “Have I meddled lately?”

  “You sent Imani to spy on me.”

  “I wouldn’t call it spying. I would call it . . . keeping an eye on you.”

  I snorted. “Same difference.”

  “If it bothers you that much, I won’t ask her to look out for you. Will that suffice?”

  I nodded.

  “Let me help you, Clarissa. I will be quick, efficient, and I will help you control the pain.”

  I swallowed, as nervous about him being the one to do this as I was about the impending discomfort. “What do I have to do?”

  “Can you stand?”

  I leaned against the table as we negotiated details. Thatch used his wand to tear off the back pocket to my jeans to get to the layer where the hook had pierced. From there, he sliced through that layer of denim to expose a couple inches of skin. At least the hook had missed the lacey edge of my underpants. It protruded just below. Thatch sat in his chair behind me, instructing me to turn my butt toward the light.

  Bent over the table with my butt sticking out had to be the most über awkward moment of the year. It felt wrong, him staring at the naked flesh of my behind. He slipped a finger under the lace of my panties, and my breath caught in my throat. He pushed it higher and out of the way. Throbbing started up inside me. I pushed down the flare of my affinity before it gave my desire away.

  He didn’t make any crude comments at least.

  I was aware of his hands, cold against my hot flesh. He palpated my butt cheek. I forced myself not to think of physical sensation like I did when I was in the torture chair.

  “Is this necrotized flesh yours or someone else’s?”

  “It’s the mermaid’s.”

  He grunted. I leaned across the table as he examined the hook.

  “It isn’t too bad,” he said. “I’d wager it’s only half an inch deep. I think I can see the barb through your skin.”

  I waited for the pain to begin.

  “I’ll wait until you have properly mastered yourself before I pull it out.”

  I meditated, using the techniques he had taught me. A moment later, Jeb returned.

  The alcohol Jeb brought was whiskey, not rubbing alcohol. Thatch shook his head. “Are we out of isopropyl alcohol?”

  “Yep, but this’ll do the trick. And Miss Lawrence can use it as a painkiller.” He poured a few inches into my glass and handed it to me.

  Out of politeness I took a tiny sip.

  “Wow, those are cute underwear,” Imani said.

  I turned my head to find her standing on the other side of me, a roll of gauze in her hand. The red underpants I wore were decorated with white hearts and the edge trimmed with re
d lace. I had worn them to get myself in the mood for a romantic date with Elric, not for everyone else to see, least of all not my principal and student.

  And especially not Thatch.

  “Excuse me. Is this a spectator sport? I don’t need everyone staring at my exposed butt,” I said.

  Jeb laughed like I was joking. “It don’t bother me none. I’ve seen plenty of naked people before.”

  Thatch reached across my back and removed the gauze from Imani’s hands. “I believe what Miss Lawrence is saying is that she would like some privacy while I perform surgery.”

  That was what I’d been trying to say. My relief that he’d articulated what I actually wanted was chased by the resentment that he was here, period. I didn’t want him poking at my butt and groping me. I wanted Elric rescuing me from a fish hook.

  Thatch tore off a strip of gauze and poured my cup of whiskey on it. He waved my audience off.

  Imani shrugged. “See you later, Miss Lawrence. I’ll stop by your room and see if you need me to help you with anything later.”

  “Thanks.” I waved.

  “That’s awfully kind of you to help Miss Lawrence like that,” Jeb said as he shuffled away with Imani, using his staff as a walking stick.

  I watched them go, mostly relieved, but a little intimidated now that I was alone with Thatch.

  “Are you concentrating?” he asked.

  “I’m not ready,” I said quickly.

  “I’ll wait.”

  I centered myself and focused. It took me a full minute to prepare. He didn’t push me. He just waited. I was acutely aware of his hand on that bare section of my behind.

  “Okay,” I said.

  “Take a deep breath and exhale.”

  I did so. The pressure of his hands changed, and I felt a tug, but no pain. The hook clattered onto the wood of the table beside me.

  “You’re doing superb. Continue meditating.” He pressed the gauze to my rump.

  It was the caress of his fingers that drew me out of the meditation. Electric tingles flowed out of him and into me and back again. It felt nice, more like a massage than the torture I had expected.

  “Is this healing magic?”

  “Yes.”

  The pleasant sensation only lasted a minute longer. He tucked my underpants back over the wound and adjusted the flap of my jeans back into place.