Spell It Out for Me

by Sarina Dorie

  What a horrible outing. I hadn’t even gotten any condoms out of it.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about the Raven Court’s attack. I had always assumed Felix Thatch was the unstoppable and perfect chaperone, unable to be defeated by any agent of the Raven Court. The idea he could be beaten by anyone troubled me.

  The following day after dinner I met him in the dungeon for my lesson. I tried to sit still and meditate, but I couldn’t focus. I fidgeted in the hard chair.

  “If I were to pinch you right now, you would suffer because you aren’t protecting yourself,” he said.

  I opened my eyes. “You told me your sister was dead.”

  “She doesn’t have a soul, so yes, in a sense she is dead.”

  “That’s still a lie. Just like you lied to me about Derrick being dead. He might not have a heart, but he still came after me.” I watched him squirm in his seat. “There’s a difference between the idea that someone is dead inside versus they’re physically dead.”

  “True. Even I can’t make the distinction at all times, which is why Odette bested me yesterday.” He kept his voice a carefully controlled monotone. “I wanted to believe I could change her. When dealing with Fae and their minions, all it takes is one misstep for them to slide underneath your armor and wound you.”

  “And that’s what she did to you?”

  “Even I have a weakness.” He inclined his head by way of answer. “Are you ready to resume work?”

  I scooted back into the chair. Derrick had always been my weakness. If it had been him, I would have wanted to believe he wasn’t all evil. Perhaps I could forgive Thatch for his exaggeration of the truth when even he couldn’t resist loving someone after the Raven Queen had changed her.

  Thatch waved a hand at me. “Remove your sweater. The more of you in contact with the chair, the easier it will be for the magic to soak into your arms.”

  I glowered at him. He was back to his bossy self. My look must have said it all.

  “If you please.” He cleared his throat.

  There was a practical reason for this. He wasn’t just telling me this because he wanted me to undress. I removed my sweater and adjusted my tank top to more modestly cover my cleavage.

  Thatch tilted his head to the side. “Alouette told me she sat in that chair naked for her meditations with her mentor.”

  What was he trying to say by that? That I should be like her? I shouldn’t have been prude? I should sit naked for his entertainment?

  “It’s a good thing I’m not my mother, isn’t it?”

  “Indeed. But it would help if you removed more layers.”

  “It would help if you gave me a blanket.”

  He unbuttoned his coat and removed it. I was surprised when he came around and laid it over me. The gray mantle of fabric was large enough it served as a blanket. Warmth radiated from him into me. The jacket smelled like his magic. This was far more personal and intimate than a blanket.

  “What do you think about removing your striped stockings?” he asked.

  “They aren’t stockings. They’re leggings. And the answer is no. If you ask me to take off any more clothes, I’m leaving. I didn’t sign up to be ogled by an old lech.”

  His brows lifted. “A lech? As in a lecherous pervert? An old lech?”

  Apparently I’d insulted his vanity and his professionalism all in one.

  “Sorry,” I said. “That came out kind of snarky.”

  “If I had spoken that way to my teachers when I was a pupil, I would have been beaten. You should watch your tongue or one in your position is likely to be given vises instead of pinching to have to ward yourself against.” His eyes twinkled now, and I could see he was teasing.

  “It’s not like I have many virtues, so it’s just as well that I get vices.”

  “I do hope Mr. Khaba will return someday so that you’ll have someone on staff who will appreciate all your horrible puns.”

  “You mean awesome puns.”

  He returned to his seat on the other side of his desk. “Are you done being a smart-mouth?”

  I would never be done with that.

  I closed my eyes and meditated on my own without him guiding me. It only took me a couple of minutes of focusing on my affinity for the meditative state to claim me. The transition was subtle. First it was the temperature of the room, shifting from shiver-me-timbers cold to comfortable. Then the light opened up before me, and I saw the room around me, even though my eyes were closed. Thatch sat behind his desk. He removed the box of vises from his drawer.

  Those were my fears talking. I was afraid of pain. He hadn’t said he was going to use torture tools instead of pinching me. Then again, he’d teased me about it, so maybe he would later claim he had.

  But I could control pain. I didn’t have to allow my fear of it to weaken me. He came around the desk and sat on the edge. He leaned closer, studying me.

  “Clarissa, do you trust me?” he asked.

  I didn’t answer. I couldn’t tell if he was actually talking to me or this was dream Thatch asking.

  He asked again.

  “I trust you to be mean to me.”

  He snorted. “What you call ‘mean’ I call making you stronger.”

  He opened the box. The vise he selected was small. He fitted it over my wrist. I knew what would happen if I didn’t concentrate, so I did, transforming the sensation before it became pain.

  “Good. You’re ready for the next step. . . . Complicated sensations. You can work on ciphering different feelings through your body.” He tightened the clamp and leaned down to kiss my palm.

  That one gesture broke the containment of my affinity. It churned and flared inside me. Pain lanced up my arm, intermingled with pleasure. He brushed his lips against my arm, nibbling against the tender place inside my elbow. Desire shot through me. He turned the screw in the vise, and I cried out.

  His voice was stern. “If you don’t want to feel pain, you need to fight it.”

  “Take it off,” I said.

  “No. You turn off the pain.”

  The sharp stab turned me into a wild animal. All I could feel was this primal need to be rid of the hurt. I wanted to feel his lips against my flesh again. I tore at the vise, twisting it loose and flinging it across the room. I threw my arms around him and kissed him. I tugged his cravat, drawing him closer to me. I undressed him and kissed him as I’d always wanted to do.

  “Miss Lawrence.” There was an edge of warning in his voice. His hands were firm on my shoulders. “You’re losing control. I think you’ve lost yourself in your subconscious.”

  He lifted me from the chair and set me on his lap. His erection pressed against me. I moaned with desire. He yanked the straps of my tank top over my shoulders and kneaded my breasts through the fabric. I gasped from the pleasure of it.

  He spoke again, but I was too dazed to listen. He took my wrists in his hands, pressing them into the metal armrests of the chair. My world wavered, and I was thrown off by the incongruity of the moment. I thought I was straddling his lap, not sitting in the chair.

  I blinked and realized my eyes had been closed. I’d been dreaming. Thatch sat on his desk across from me, brows furrowed. I was colder than before, my back pressed against the icy metal of the chair.

  He still held my wrists tight against the chair, restraining me.

  I shrank back. “Let go of me.” I tried to pull away.

  He released me and turned his attention on his jacket on the floor. I hugged my arms to my chest, finding my tank top straps hung limp around my arms. One edge of the tank top had dropped low enough that my pink lacy bra was exposed. Horrified, I pulled it up and adjusted my clothes. My skirt had ridden up, nearly to my crotch. I tugged it down to my knees. I didn’t know if I had done this or he had. I couldn’t tell what had been real and what hadn’t.

  I fought to control my calm. Everything in my body told me to run, but I made myself sit there. I was
an adult. We were both adults.

  He spoke slowly, sounding calmer than I felt. “You need to use the lucid-dreaming techniques I taught you so that you learn to tell the difference between reality and . . . fantasy.”

  Even after fixing my clothes, I felt vulnerable and naked under the skewer of his gaze. I didn’t see my sweater anywhere on the floor.

  He leaned forward, his face only inches to the right of my knees. I flinched my legs away. He scooped up my sweater that had fallen under the chair and handed it to me. He didn’t ogle me as I dressed in the sweater. His eyes remained on his feet.

  He lifted his gaze to my face. “I’m guessing you were dreaming about your . . . boyfriend?” He raised an eyebrow.

  A squeak of noise escaped my throat. Better he thought that than he knew the truth. I didn’t want him to discover I had actually been fantasizing about him. He’d get the wrong idea. Or the right idea.

  I was in love with Elric, so why was I fantasizing about Thatch? Maybe I just liked the idea of someone forbidden. When hadn’t I had a clandestine romance in the past? I’d never had a normal, healthy relationship that I hadn’t hidden.

  The typical cold of his office was replaced with a suffocating wave of heat. Breathing was an effort. I didn’t want to be there anymore. I wished I hadn’t agreed to magic lessons with him. I wanted someone I could talk to.

  Elric was off-limits and hard to reach. I couldn’t talk to Imani because she was my student.

  “I want to go home,” I said. “I need my fairy godmother.”

  Thatch tilted his head to the side, his expression perplexed. “If that’s what you wish, I’ll take you home tomorrow morning. It would do Imani and you both a deal of good to have a change of scenery for a few days.”

  Tomorrow was so far away. The overwhelming chaos of emotions battling inside me threatened to consume me if I didn’t get away from them—from him. “I need to go home tonight.”

  “Was what you dreamed that . . . traumatic?” he asked. “Was I mistaken? Was it about Derrick?”

  I laughed at that, the sound bitter and hard. Derrick was the last of my worries. I was more concerned with my current romances. Romance.

  “Will you take me home tonight?” I asked.

  “Yes, of course. I would do anything for you.” His face softened, his eyes intensely sad. “You do know that, don’t you?”

  For the first time, I realized what my subconscious was telling me. I understood my fear. It wasn’t that I was afraid of Thatch or afraid of being romantic with him and then him turning out to be horrible like Derrick or Julian.

  My subconscious had been telling me my secret truth, blasting it at me with the intense beam of a lighthouse. My heart truly was torn. I didn’t know who I loved.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  The Fairy Godmother Consolation Prize

  After I told Imani to get ready to leave, I scribbled a hasty note and placed in in the mail for Elric. Thatch used his Count Chocula move to transport Imani and me with him to the old oak in my mom’s backyard. The last rays of a crimson sunset painted the sky the color of blood.

  Maddy was at the kitchen window washing dishes. She ran out the door, leaving it wide open as she ran up to us. She was overjoyed to see Imani. The two girls embraced.

  “Oh my God! It’s so nice to see another human being!” Maddy squealed. She looked to my mom who was coming out of the house after her. “Not that it isn’t nice seeing you every day, Mrs. Lawrence.”

  Mom’s face brightened into a warm smile. “To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?”

  She was still dressed in gardening clothes, jeans muddy at the knees, and her red hair pulled back under a bandana. She radiated earth-mama magic. Her eyes flickered to the green gems of the necklace that I wore, her distrust of Elric evident, even though she said nothing about him. I tucked the amulet under my collar.

  “I needed to visit,” I said, trying not to let the worry show in my eyes.

  “Will you be staying for a cup of tea?” Mom asked Thatch.

  His gaze slid over to me. I could see the longing there. But he wouldn’t impose. He wanted an invitation.

  I wanted privacy.

  “Why don’t you come back for us in a couple of days and plan on staying for dinner?” I asked.

  It seemed like an adequate compromise since I knew how much he liked homecooked meals.

  “Yes, thank you.” His smile was almost happy.

  The girls chattered away after he left. They wanted to sleep in the living room like it was a slumber party and allow me to sleep in my room, but it wasn’t a good idea for Maddy to spend all night right beside someone who would draw out her energy. In the end, Imani slept in my room, Maddy slept on the couch, and I was to sleep with my fairy godmother in her bed.

  I brushed my teeth in the bathroom, overhearing the girls giggle and talk about their summer.

  “I have to watch television or use the computer before I go to bed to diminish my powers,” Maddy said. “Isn’t that funny? Most kids our age have parents telling them they only get an hour, but I have to get at least an hour in, or else my affinity will get too out of whack.”

  “You’re so lucky,” Imani said. “I think I only got half an hour of Internet all summer.”

  “I think I could actually live in the Morty Realm.” Maddy made no attempt to talk quietly. “Mrs. Lawrence has been showing me all the ways to dissipate my magic so no one notices what I am. I can even go to the store with her now. People still stare, but no one chases me down like they used to.”

  It was comforting knowing her siren magic wasn’t a handicap. She could lead a normal Morty life if that’s what she wanted . . . after she fulfilled her contract with the King of the Pacific and gave him her firstborn child.

  Mom sat in her bed reading a book until I came in to join her. With her red hair and green nightgown she looked more like a garden elf than a human. She set her book aside and patted the bed beside her. “Are you going to tell me what happened between you and Mr. Thatch?”

  Those words uncorked the bottled-up emotions inside me. I threw my arms around her neck just like I had as a child.

  “Nothing happened. Not today.” I tried to sort out the conflicting emotions. “Well, a lot of things have been happening, but today was the day I figured it out. I’m in love with Felix Thatch, and I’m in love with Elric. But I have to prove to the King of the Silver Court I’m in love with his son in just a couple of weeks, or else my soul is his to keep forever, and he’ll make me into a slave. I don’t know what to do.”

  My mom stroked my hair away from my face. “Who do you love more?”

  “I don’t know. It’s all muddled together. I feel so confused. I love them for different reasons.” They truly were as different as night and day.

  Elric was merry and fun. His optimism and idealism matched my own, and I felt happy when I was around him. He worked to be a good person, even if he lived in a horrible world surrounded by horrible rules. He broke those rules and found his own path in life. He was like me in that regard. When I was with him, I knew he cared about me and wanted me to be happy.

  Of course, he also didn’t understand so many simple human ways of doing things. His culture was so different from my own.

  Then there was Felix Thatch. There was no reason I should have felt attracted to him. He was serious and terse. He didn’t like people and when he did, he had a difficult time showing it. But he had been trying to show me his feelings for me in so many ways lately. Being kind and considerate wasn’t natural for him, but he’d worked on that deficit in his personality—either as a conscious decision to try to impress me or because I’d softened his resolve to keep up walls around himself.

  My mind wandered back to the watercolor I’d found in Thatch’s desk. That art show had been the perfect example of their differences in personalities. Elric hadn’t wanted to tell me about the first art gallery rejecting my art because he’d
been afraid it would hurt my feelings.

  Thatch had told me he intended to burn my portrait of him.

  I struggled for a way to explain the complexity of my feelings. “They both care about me, but they have different ways of expressing that. Elric is the kind of person who would do anything to make me happy, even if it involves lying so that he might spare my feelings from hurt. Felix Thatch would tell me the truth, even if it hurt me, because he would think I might grow stronger. Or he would lie even if it hurt me if he thought it might help me become stronger in the long run.”

  “Ah. Elric will give you what you want. Felix will give you what you need. Both have their disadvantages.” Mom stroked my hair. “Do you know what will make you happier?”

  “No. Do you?” I wished my fairy godmother had the magical skill of divination to tell me.

  “I don’t, honey.” She hugged me around the shoulder. “Who do you trust more?”

  I laughed at that. I could trust both of them with my life. The matter of my heart was an entirely different matter.

  As much as I loved magic, Womby’s, and a clandestine romance with a hot Fae prince, the banal normalcy of my old life was a welcome retreat. I took the girls shopping at the mall, thrift stores, and garage sales. I also went out alone, picking up three different kinds of lamb condoms while I was at the pharmacy. I used the Internet, went to the art-supply recycle store for free treasure, a.k.a. junk, for my art classes, and distracted myself with three days of bliss.

  My vacation away from vacation couldn’t last forever. On the fourth day we prepared a banquet that would have been worthy of a Thanksgiving dinner. We made cookies, pies, and pudding for dessert. I could only hope the roast vegetables, stuffing, fresh bread, and ham for dinner would make up for sending Thatch away so hastily.

  He did look dazzled at all the food when he came to pick us up. “I hope you didn’t do all this work on my account.”

  “I learned how to make bread,” Maddy boasted.

  “I made the chocolate chip cookies,” Imani said, pushing one into his hand. “Try one. Mrs. Lawrence said they’re perfect.”