I was thankful Josie had killed Jeb. Perhaps I should have felt more anxiety that I was turning into someone like Alouette Loraline, a wicked witch who hadn’t valued human life.
Pinky placed a hand on my shoulder. “Come sit with me, Clarissa. Tell me about your day with the students. I heard rumors about someone sending you a bouquet. Is that entitled prince pestering you again?”
I ate dinner at the teacher table with Pinky. I tried to laugh at his corny teacher jokes because that was what I normally would have done, but Josie running from me hurt. Shouldn’t I have been the one to run from her?
I was still feeling pretty low after dinner. I went downstairs to see Thatch, but the dungeon was locked up, and there was a note on the door to his classroom with two words written in his elegant hand: Out recruiting.
The same note remained on his door in the morning. I didn’t know if he was gone again or still away. Later I learned from students he’d taught class that morning, but at lunch his classroom was locked, this time without a note.
I wondered if he was avoiding me, if he regretted spending time with me. This seemed the sort of thing he would do to push someone away rather than communicate what he actually felt. Then I looked at the flowers on my desk. They were so beautiful it was hard to imagine someone would give them to me who didn’t adore me. But I didn’t know they were from him. He’d acted suspiciously, like they had been from someone else, but he hadn’t wanted me to know.
After Art Club that afternoon, I found him in his classroom, wearing an apron as he sat on one of the student desks, a clipboard in hand. He inspected cauldrons and flasks under the back cupboard.
Three students sat in the back, writing sentences. I passed one student, skimming the text:
I will speak to adults of authority with respect and not call Miss Kimura a stupid bitch in the cafeteria.
Wow. It seemed like Khaba should have been disciplining these kids—or Josie—not Thatch. I wondered if he had volunteered to supervise these detentions or they had been pushed on him.
I strolled over to Thatch.
“Hi,” I said.
“Good afternoon.” He checked something off his list.
“I wondered if you had a moment to talk.”
“As you can see, I’m busy.”
“Okay.” Clearly he was in one of his cheerier moods. “When will you not be busy?”
“Never.” He set down his clipboard. “But I suppose we should get this over with now.” He turned to the students. “Keep writing your lines. If you finish early you can move on to homework. If I come back to find anyone talking, I’ll chain you up in the dungeon during the dinner break.”
A girl raised her hand. “I need to go to the bathroom.”
“Did someone not use her break wisely before detention? Did someone socialize with her friends instead of coming straight here?”
I felt bad for the freshman. I knew what was coming.
He snapped his fingers. Echoing from the hallway past the classroom came a drip. She groaned.
Thatch turned on his heel and left the classroom out the door that led into the dungeon. The chamber was filled with all manner of torture equipment—which he claimed was for display. Two students were chained up to the wall: Balthasar Llewelyn and Ben O’Sullivan. Flames licked at Balthasar’s feet. Snow fell down on the flames. He used his Elementia ice affinity to fight the fire. He whimpered pathetically and called out to me. I avoided his gaze.
A pot of gold, wavering and transparent like a mirage, floated before Ben. Even if his red hair and diminutive stature hadn’t given away his heritage as a leprechaun, the way he drooled looking at that gold did.
“Miss Lawrence, help us, please!” Ben called out to me. “He’s torturing us.”
“No speaking,” Thatch barked out. “You have reaped the reward for your behavior earlier today. Let that be a lesson to you.”
“Is that hurting them?” I asked.
“It’s making them work and use their magic to protect themselves.” The corners of his mouth tugged downward in disgust. “Considering the way they try to get out of doing any work during class, it probably does hurt them.”
Outside the dungeon he marched down a short hallway and unlocked the door to his office. He motioned for me to enter first. I wasn’t sure I remembered whether he’d ever done that before. It was more chivalrous than I’d ever given him credit for.
The moment he closed the door behind him, he said in his usual unreadable monotone, “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” He untied his apron and tossed it onto the back of the metal torture chair across from his desk.
The words were so contradictory with his tone, I didn’t know how to react.
He held out his hand. Warily, I took it. He tugged me closer and wrapped his arms around me. That was as unexpected as him not being crabby.
He kissed the top of my head. The tension I’d been holding in my body melted away. I let out a long breath, not realizing I’d been holding it.
I inhaled the scent of dusty books and oil paint that clung to his clothes. I considered how to word what I wanted to say, to test the waters. “Thank you for the flowers. I wanted to thank you yesterday, but I couldn’t find you.”
He stepped back. His expression was thoughtful. Maybe he didn’t like me thanking him. Or it might have been something else.
“Those were from you, right?” I asked.
He hesitated. It was the pause that made me doubt his next words. “Indeed. You’re welcome.”
He was lying. I was certain. The flowers might have been from Elric. He knew my favorite color was pink. But sending toxic flowers just didn’t seem like an Elric thing to do. He had been hurt when we’d broken up, but not vindictive. He had seemed genuinely sorry for lying to me about his Witchkin wife and his Fae wife. Maybe he hadn’t meant to use my affinity against me to seduce me. I could see that ever since our breakup he’d been trying to make it up to me, to protect me, keep me safe, and make my school a better place for the students I cared about.
Poison flowers from Elric just weren’t logical. Plus, I was now considered to be in the fold of his family, a formal ally of the Silver Court. As long as I gave him an heir—which Vega assured me was possible now that I’d proven I could create a Red affinity from any Witchkin—he could marry anyone. He didn’t need me.
Yet if the flowers weren’t from Thatch or Elric, I didn’t know who they’d be from. Derrick? Elric had said he was far away, and I didn’t have to worry about him. What if he wasn’t? Then there was that presence I thought I’d felt.
I was certain deadly flowers had to be some kind of message.
“Are you going to let me read the card?” I asked.
His expression was serious, no trace of teasing in his eyes. “If you earn the privilege, I’ll consider it.”
“How do I do that?”
He hesitated, considering it. “You need to start checking gifts for hexes, curses, and poisons.”
Was that what this was about? I tried to decipher the meaning in his words. “If I had checked it, I would have found the note. Is that it? But I didn’t check, so I didn’t pass your test?”
He grunted. He still wasn’t being forthcoming about something.
“Are you going to teach me that spell so I can detect poisons and curses?”
“I would prefer we spend our lessons working with your affinity.” His tone continued to be businesslike, the strict teacher, instead of affectionate as I craved. “Perhaps Vega will show you. I would suggest Josephine Kimura as a teacher for minor spells and charms, but . . . the less time you spend with her the better.”
“Don’t say that. Josie is my friend.” She had always been so kind to me. If it hadn’t been for her, I would have been completely lost when I’d first come to Womby’s.
“Do you like her enough you can stop hugging her if it’s for her own good? Do you care about her enough you’re willing to
embarrass her by speaking to her truthfully about her affinity and alert her if you think she’s going to lose control again?” His eyes were the gray of storm clouds, an unpredictable gloom.
I was the inept weather forecaster, unable to decipher the temperament of his moods. “I don’t know if I would recognize that she was going to lose control.”
“Well, then, that is a problem.” He strode past me and sat down on the edge of his desk. “I won’t tell you that you can’t be friends with Josephine Kimura, but you must see how dangerous spending time with her can be. Once a jorogumo loses control, it’s difficult for her to retain . . . any measure of restraint.”
“I don’t think spending time with her is really going to be a problem. She doesn’t want to be friends with me.”
He crossed his arms. “That is unfortunate for the both of you. I know you’re both fond of each other’s company.” He patted me on the arm, the gesture awkward, like he didn’t actually know how to comfort someone.
I leaned into him. “What do you think about coming out of your bat cave and eating dinner in the cafeteria tonight?”
“With you?”
I laughed. “No, with Principal Khaba.”
He smoothed a hand over my back. He stared off into the distance, his expression somber. From the way his dark eyebrows drew together, I took it he was actually considering the request. “Thank you for the offer, but I prefer my dark hole to the company of people.” He wet his lips, the gesture hesitant, nervous as if he was buying himself a moment to gather his thoughts. “If you wish to join me down here, you can bring me a plate when you get yours upstairs. You can then enjoy my fabulous . . . conversation.”
I wouldn’t mind enjoying a few fabulous things from him besides conversation.
“Sure. I can do that.” It was a compromise to come down here instead of eating among friends, but it was one I was willing to make if it meant he was willing to eat dinner with me.
“And after dinner. . . ?” I asked. I wanted to spend time with him, but I didn’t want to appear too eager.
He waved a hand at the crystal ball on his desk, his eyes crinkling with mirth. “Shall we see what the future holds, or will it suffice to wait and see how the mood strikes us later on?”
I laughed. “Yeah. I can wait to see what kind of mood we’re both in.”
As I turned to leave, I paused in the doorway. “That bouquet . . . it wasn’t from Derrick, was it?”
Thatch’s eyes went wide, but only for a second. “Whatever would make you say that?”
“Because I know they weren’t from you.”
“Good day to you, Miss Lawrence. I will see you at dinner.”
That was Felix Thatch, always evading questions.
I kept thinking about the flowers, the note Thatch obviously wasn’t going to share with me, and his peculiar reaction. If the bouquet had been from Elric or Derrick, I didn’t know why he wouldn’t have just told me.
Well, with Elric, I did. Their rivalry was as deep as the houses of Stark and Lannister from Game of Thrones. With Derrick, it might have been because he didn’t want me to worry.
Then again, it might not have been from either. The Raven Queen was still interested in me. And the Princess of Lies and Truth had wanted my mother dead.
At dinner, I filled a tray with two bowls of curry stew from the staff table. Someone cleared her voice behind me.
I glanced over my shoulder to find Josie and Pinky waiting for the stew as I ladled it onto the rice in the bowls. “Sorry. I didn’t see you. I’m almost done, and I’ll be out of your way in a sec.”
“You aren’t in my way,” Josie said.
Pinky nodded to the bowls on my tray. “Someone’s hungry.”
I hurriedly finished filling the bowls and stepped to the side.
Pinky nudged Josie. She cleared her throat. “Sorry about earlier. I sort of panicked.”
“No worries,” I said. “It’s understandable you might feel. . . .” I searched for an adequate word.
“Embarrassed? Ashamed? Mortified?” she finished.
“I don’t hold it against you. I’ve had my fair share of accidents.” She blamed herself when I was the reason she’d gone off the deep end into arachnid town. I wanted to tell her the truth, but talking about my affinity was dangerous.
I set down the tray. My instincts told me if I was a good friend I should hug Josie to make her feel better, but Thatch had advised me against touching people.
“I’m not a lesbian.” Josie quickly added, “Not that I have a problem with anyone who is. I’m just saying, I don’t know what came over me. I don’t want you to be . . . uncomfortable around me.”
Pinky had previously told me Josie had no memory of the events that had happened, but I now wondered otherwise. Then again—perhaps someone malicious like Vega had hinted at it.
“It isn’t a problem,” I said. “You don’t make me uncomfortable. It was magic. You lost control. That’s all. It could happen to anyone.” I could have that effect on anyone. I focused on what I could tell her. “If you hadn’t been there to save me, Jeb would have killed me.” Or worse. I tried to convey my gratitude in words. “I know all this has to be majorly weird for you, but I’m so thankful you were there. Even when you changed, you protected me. You kept me safe.”
“I’m so relieved you’re all right.” Tears filled her eyes. “I’m lucky you’re so understanding.” She dropped her tray to the table and squeezed me in a bear hug. So much for not touching, as Thatch had advised.
I patted her shoulder, feeling awkward. She needed to stop before I set her off again, but I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.
A few students turned from serving themselves dinner to watch Josie.
“Students are watching and talking about us,” I whispered.
“Right.” She drew away and wiped her eyes. “Sorry.”
“Why don’t we go outside and eat dinner in the courtyard?” Pinky suggested. “You two can talk, and we’ll have more privacy away from everyone.”
Josie scanned the cafeteria, spotting Coach Kutchi in one of the doorways talking to a student. “I’m pretty sure Amadea has dinner duty.”
I wanted to sit with Josie and talk, but I’d already made plans with Thatch. Why did Josie have to now decide she wanted to talk to me?
“Um. . . .” I said, trying to think of some excuse that didn’t sound like I was dating Thatch. I stared at the two bowls in front of me. “Here’s the thing. I’m supposed to bring someone dinner. It’s a . . . um . . . meeting. With another teacher. We’re going to be discussing student grades.” I prayed it didn’t sound like I was lying.
Josie’s brow crinkled, her expression wounded. Apparently I hadn’t done such a fantabulous job of sounding convincing.
There was nothing like the truth. “I’m meeting with Thatch,” I said.
“Oh. Sure.” She bit her lip, looking doubtful. “Well, maybe another time.”
“Yes.” I nodded emphatically. “How about lunch? Tomorrow? Or dinner? Or both?”
“Sure. Maybe tomorrow.” She trudged off, leaving her bowl on the table.
I felt even worse now. I wanted to spend time with Josie, but I didn’t want to ditch my new boyfriend. Was Thatch a boyfriend? I wasn’t certain what he was.
Pinky looked from her to me. “Clarissa, what is going on? I thought you wanted to reconcile with Josie.”
“I do!”
“Then why did you give her some lame-ass excuse you obviously just made up?”
It was bad enough people saw through my lies. It was worse when they assumed I was lying and I was telling the truth. “It wasn’t an excuse. I am having dinner with Thatch.”
He crossed his arms. “Right. Like anyone in their right mind would want to eat dinner in the dungeon alone with that man.”
That didn’t make me feel any better.
“Don’t you get how traumatized Josie is right now?” He lowered
his voice. “She just killed someone. She needs a friend to make her feel normal.”
My guilt kept burying me deeper. I wanted to be what Josie needed. At the same time, I knew I wasn’t ever going to help her feel normal. I brought out the monster in my friends.
I carried the tray to the dungeon. The classroom and passage to his office was unlocked, but he wasn’t in either. A note on his desk said: I’ll be right back.
I waited in the comfortable seat at his desk. Restlessly I tapped my heel. He wasn’t back in five minutes, so I knocked on the door to his private quarters, but it was locked, and he didn’t answer. Dinner was getting cold, which didn’t make the flavorless gruel any more appetizing. After ten minutes, I ate my stew, silently fuming. By the time I finished, he still hadn’t returned.
If I had known he wasn’t going to be in, I could have eaten dinner with Josie.
I hesitated to use the quill on his desk to leave him a note. He didn’t have any paper handy. I could see if he had a memo pad or Post-it notes in his desk. He didn’t like it when other people went through his desk, but I suspected he wouldn’t mind too much if I was just using a sheet of paper.
He was the one who stole chalk from my closet. Then again, that might have just been an excuse to come see me.
The top drawer was where he kept his art journal . . . and where he’d stashed the note from the bouquet. I considered how livid he would be if I searched his desk for that note. He might dump me. I rationalized taking advantage of the opportunity might be the only chance I had to “earn the privilege” of reading that note that he probably hadn’t written.
I yanked the top drawer open. A scream erupted from the desk just as it had last time I had snooped in it. I jumped at the blood-curdling volume. Hurriedly I lifted his leather sketchbook and checked under files. Nothing.
Of Curse You Will Page 5
