Elric offered Vega his arm in the same gentlemanly gesture he had once done for me. They strode off without giving me another glance.
Seriously? Vega was dating my ex-boyfriend? What was wrong with her? Friends didn’t do that. Then again, Vega wasn’t a friend. She was more of a frenemy. Still, I couldn’t believe her. Especially after all the times she’d told me I would fall into the hands of a Fae if I wasn’t careful. She was such a conceited hypocritical sneak.
They would be perfect for each other.
Even as I slept that night, part of my brain was lucid enough to be aware of my surroundings. I was alone in my room, Vega still gone for the evening.
I dreamed in a world made of watercolors, walking along a path made from splashes of burnt sienna layered over washes of ochre and raw umber. My perspective was inside my body, while simultaneously outside of myself, in a way that could only be possible in a dream. I was the one thing in this painting that remained realistic and untouched by a paintbrush. Even if I hadn’t been practicing my meditation and lucid-dreaming techniques, I would have recognized this as a construct of my subconscious.
The landscape was painted in a pretty palette of autumn colors. I liked art, but something felt off about this painting. I had a sense that there was a shadow lurking in the corner just out of sight, something ominous that wanted to consume me.
I turned around, but no one was there. The path was deserted, a forest behind me in the distance. The school loomed up ahead, resembling a spider with disjointed limbs that didn’t match in style or color. Somehow this dream had managed to capture the whimsical feel of the school, Howl’s moving castle on crack, in a way my watercolors never had.
A figure approached from up ahead, a smear of gray on the horizon. A sense of foreboding washed over me. Some of my apprehension melted away when I came to realize the figure was dressed in a gray tweed suit and his hair fluttered around him like shadows, even though there was no breeze. Was this the shadow I had sensed? Or was that presence still there, lingering at the edge of my mind? I couldn’t tell.
Thatch’s posture was stiff, pensive. His brow crinkled as he gazed at the impressionist-style sky and then the ground covered in autumn leaves. He was like me, real in this place of fantasy, but he didn’t feel quite real. Or maybe everything about this dream felt too surreal and unnatural.
The idea of him being here tickled me. The world was so beautiful, and I was so relieved to see him, I forgot I hated him.
“Come here often?” I asked, thinking myself funny.
“Your dreams?” he asked in his expressionless monotone. “No, not typically. I try to stay out of your head as much as possible.”
“Maybe you should visit occasionally. Then you’d know what I was thinking.”
“You are vocal enough that you leave no doubt of your feelings on many matters.” He squinted at the trees in the distance, not looking at me.
“Maybe if you popped in for a visit from time to time you would know how to not make me hate you.” I didn’t hate him, though. Not here where everything was so sunny and cheerful. The sunlight tasted like lemonade, and the puffs of clouds in the sky were vanilla ice cream, simultaneously floating in the sky and melting on my tongue.
“Why have you pulled me into your dream?” he asked.
“I didn’t. You just appeared here.” I watched his hair, the shifting blue-black strands reminding me of raven feathers. “Maybe you decided to visit because you wanted to apologize to me.”
“You are supposed to be practicing control in your dreams.” Thatch glanced around warily. “Something is off here.”
“Duh. It’s a dream.”
He placed a hand on my elbow and lightning flashed. The world was no longer made of watercolors and happy ice cream clouds. It was night, and his naked skin was painted with starlight. He drew me into his arms and kissed me.
The kiss was like the time he’d kissed me in front of the Fae king and the entire Silver Court. His lips tasted delicious, like dark chocolate and temptation and sin. His fingers caressed my back and came to rest on my hips, rocking me into him. My affinity fluttered, synchronized with my rising desire for him.
I wanted to melt against him and forgive him for using me. I could almost pretend that what had happened before had been a bad dream and this moment was reality. A good reality where I ended up with a dark prince of pleasure and pain.
His fingers massaged my scalp. Unexpectedly, he yanked my head back. He grazed my neck with his teeth, an ominous warning that he might bite. There was danger in this moment, not knowing what the unpredictable Felix Thatch might do . . . kiss me or drain me.
Could he drain me in a dream? Surely I was safe. He had to be physically touching me to drain me, and he was in his own room. This was just a fantasy.
My consciousness became aware of that presence again, the lurking shadow I had sensed before.
He murmured against my ear. “It’s better this way. Safer. If they think the lightning drained you, they won’t suspect what you are.”
The blood felt as though it were being sucked out of my veins. I grew light-headed and woozy as all my strength left me. I tried to draw away from him, but I couldn’t. He wouldn’t let me go. He kissed me again, a little more of me wicking away. It felt as though he were drinking me in like Derrick had when he’d drained me. My skin prickled with pain.
I twisted my face away, trying to gather the power of my affinity to explode out of me to defend myself.
“Don’t even try,” he said. “You started this. You brought me here. Now we’re going to finish it.”
Lightning flashed.
I woke up sweaty and panting, uncertain whether that had been a nightmare or a lucid dream. I couldn’t tell if I had pulled Thatch into my subconscious. Even if I had yanked him out of his own dreams and into mine, I hadn’t forced him to kiss me. He’d done that of his own free will.
I sat up and drew my knees to my chest, expecting Thatch to knock on my door at any second and scold me for invading his privacy, but he didn’t.
Did that mean he hadn’t been there? I couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t.
CHAPTER SIX
A Sketch Artist and a Sketchy Artist
All week I thought about that dream, even though I didn’t have it again. Every time I saw Thatch in a hallway and his eyes momentarily locked on mine, I couldn’t help but think about his fingers caressing the naked flesh of my hips, pulling me into his embrace. I didn’t want to feel aroused when I thought of that dream, but my body betrayed me. I remembered the sensation of his lips on mine, filling me with pleasure even as he stole away my magic.
There were moments I encountered him at lunch duty or in the mailroom in passing when I thought I detected a trace of guilt in his eyes, but each time it disappeared under his stony mask before I could get a better look.
On my way out of the admin wing after a trip to my mailbox after one such occasion, I spotted a figure with long silver hair on the landing above. Even turned away, I knew it was Elric from the regal way he held himself. That and his fashion choice: a pair of black leather pants, a loose poet shirt, and a gold navy jacket that reminded me of something a pirate in a romance novel would wear. The blend of eras and styles was unequivocally Elric.
I froze when I saw him. He was here again, that big dork breath.
“What is he doing here?” Thatch asked from behind me.
“How should I know?”
Thatch gave me a disapproving look as though it was my fault Elric was on school property.
Elric turned on the landing above, a smile in place. “Miss Lawrence, is that you? So nice to see you!”
He bubbled with enthusiasm.
“Hi,” I said, feeling awkward.
“How is everything?” Elric’s gaze cut to Thatch, as if to ask about him.
“Why are you here?” Thatch asked.
“Official business. None of your concern
.” Elric looked to me again. “This cretin isn’t bothering you, is he?”
I opened my mouth to tell him I was fine.
Thatch spoke before I could. “No, I’m not. I’m a colleague. We’re able to act as professionals.”
Like hell we were.
Elric descended the stairs toward us. “Miss Lawrence doesn’t need you speaking for her. She has a mind of her own, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“Indeed.” Thatch’s tone managed to remain an icy monotone while dripping venom. “I’m surprised you noticed Miss Lawrence is a human being with thoughts and desires of her own.”
I rolled my eyes. I wasn’t even dating Elric anymore, but they still acted like jealous morons around each other. In the past, I would have tried to mediate and convince them to get along. Instead, I walked away and decided to let them duke it out on their own.
Elric’s presence at the school didn’t bode well. That turned out to be the first of many times I encountered Elric coming or going from the principal’s office.
I didn’t believe he was dating Vega. And even if he was, he had no reason to meet with Jeb that I could see. I wondered if his comings and goings were in any way related to the incident with the lightning. I didn’t believe he would try to out me. If he cared about me, he would keep my secret to himself. If he didn’t, but wanted to use me for my affinity, I suspected he would still want to keep it secret so that he would stand a chance to try to persuade me back to him.
Not that I would allow that to happen.
It was the day that he toured the school with Jeb and Khaba that I knew something else was going on. Under the supervision of the administration, Elric observed my seventh-period advanced drawing and painting class. The students went silent the moment the Fae prince entered the room.
“Isn’t that Miss Lawrence’s boyfriend?” Ben O’Sullivan asked a little too loudly. He’d grown a head taller over the summer, and he no longer resembled a leprechaun, even with his mop of auburn hair giving away his ancestry.
“No. Mr. Thatch is Miss Lawrence’s boyfriend,” someone whispered.
“I do not have a boyfriend. Period. Nor is it any of your business.” I closed my eyes, wishing I could have walked out of my classroom and my life right then.
“Don’t let us interrupt,” Jeb said. “We’re just here to observe.”
Khaba crossed his arms, looking unhappy. I watched Elric as though he were a student about to cause mischief. He probably would.
Students huddled in groups, too distraught over Elric’s presence to paint. Hailey Achilles glared at him, clearly resenting his presence from the way flames smoldered in her eyes. At any moment I expected her dark brown hair to shift to orange flames and for her to spontaneously combust.
Imani watched him warily. Elric glided around the room, oblivious to the discomfort he caused. I had never noticed before how his presence affected my students so adversely. An art classroom was supposed to be a place where students felt comfortable and expressive.
It took Ben O’Sullivan making a farting noise to lighten the tension. Students broke into giggles and resumed conversation. Jeb guffawed. Khaba took Ben aside and had a word with him.
“Look at that big crack in the wall!” Elric said, pointing to a fissure in the mortar large enough for a beam of light to shine through. “Doesn’t that get drafty in the winter? How are children supposed to learn?”
I turned my back on him and kept helping students with their creative-color-wheels projects as though he wasn’t there. The sophomore next to me had turned her color wheel into the iris of an eye. Another student had made a mandala with tints and shades in addition to the primary and secondary colors.
Imani scooted closer to me. My favorite student watched the three men walking along the perimeter of the room. Sunlight from the unshuttered windows shined down on her, making her black hair appear chestnut and her brown skin glow bronze.
“Why is he here?” She crossed her arms, eyeing Elric with suspicion. “Mr. Thatch doesn’t like him.”
“Shush. Mr. Thatch doesn’t like any Fae,” I whispered.
From the way Elric scrutinized the walls, I wondered more if he was examining our wards and enchantments to keep him out than the state of my classroom. It was curious there were any cracks in the walls at all considering he was the one who had fixed them after the airship had attacked. This all had to be a ruse to get something.
I grimaced at Khaba.
He mouthed, “Sorry.”
I wondered what Elric had promised Jeb in exchange for getting to be near me.
I directed Imani to assist other students who were struggling with mixing their secondary and tertiary colors. Since she had been in this class already, her time was divided between her advanced projects and serving as a peer tutor.
“I’ve never seen color wheels quite like this before,” Elric said, pointing to one of a unicorn floating in outer space, the body a radial pattern of colors. “It’s very creative.”
“That’s our Miss Lawrence, always making classes lively and interestin’ for students,” Jeb said.
Right. As if he had ever once asked what my curriculum was. This was the first time he’d ever observed my classroom.
“Miss Lawrence!” Ben O’Sullivan whined. “Why does the paint I mixed look brown instead of black?”
I stepped toward him, but someone tugged on my sleeve. “I keep trying to make white like Imani did, but it isn’t working.”
“You can’t make white with paint, dumbass,” Hailey said.
I shook my head at her and gestured to the principal. Khaba stepped over to her and quietly had a word with her about her language.
I turned away from them to help Ben make black. A moment later I found Imani showing off her color wheel to a couple of students. Hers was made of light. It hovered above her hands, translucent like a rainbow. She explained the difference between additive and subtractive colors and how all the colors in paint made black, but with light it created white.
Her demonstration caught Jeb’s and Khaba’s attention as she manipulated the light to bleed together to make tertiary colors. She stretched the wheel into a three-dimensional sphere and back into a flat disk once again.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about! Cross-curricular lesson plans that use art and magic. Yeehaw!” Jeb removed his Stetson witch hat and rubbed at his bald spot. “You need to do more of that in your classes, not all those perspective drawings.”
Perspective was actually one of the less expensive art lessons we could do. All I needed were pencils, rulers, and paper. Painting and sculpture were the expensive supplies.
I nodded to the magic color wheel. “Imani can combine art and magic because she’s now a junior. She has the basics down for both, but most of my students are freshmen. They’re beginners at everything. They haven’t mastered enough magic to do what Imani has just done. They don’t even know the order of the colors or how to mix them yet.”
Jeb continued to give me “suggestions” that would be impossible to implement.
When I turned back to Imani, I found Elric speaking quietly to her. “That was very clever. The more you practice subjects like art and dance, the more it will help you enhance your affinity with a true sense of artistry.”
“I guess,” she said.
“What are you going to do after you graduate? Have you given it any thought? You could become an artist. I know of men and women who paint with magic.”
She shrugged. I stepped toward them, not wanting Elric to talk to my students.
“Miss Lawrence, look at this,” Hailey said. She waved a painting in front of me, calling for my attention, but I sidestepped her, my focus on Elric.
Elric smiled merrily. “And there are performers in traveling shows who dance to entertain, using magic to—”
She shook her head and shrank away. He’d just brought up her kryptonite. I had no doubt any mention of dancing after the las
t few public displays that had gone wrong would only make Imani more self-conscious.
I stepped between them to intervene. “Excuse me. Isn’t this supposed to be an observation? As in, you look but don’t talk?”
Elric’s brow furrowed. “I beg your pardon. Did I say something wrong?”
“You’re interrupting my class and distracting my students,” I said.
“Am I? I’m sorry.” He flashed a sheepish smile.
“Shall we continue the tour to the next classroom?” Jeb asked.
“Certainly.” Elric drifted away from me. “It would be a pleasure to see more of the school’s curriculum.”
Khaba ushered Jeb and Elric toward the door. “Might I suggest Miss Bloodmire’s classroom next?”
Elric glanced back over his shoulder, but it wasn’t me he looked at. It was Imani. A shiver stole down my spine.
Elric had healed her nose and spent time in Imani’s presence after she’d crashed one of our dates this summer. He’d previously told me about his attraction to artists and that many Reds were artists of some kind. Imani had recently been involved in another incident in which her dancing had drawn out her magic, and it might have given away what she was—to someone who understood that touch fueled the Red affinity.
Over the next few weeks, I caught Elric multiple times on our school grounds, though he wasn’t there to see me or convince me to take him back. There could only be one other logical explanation if it wasn’t to date me.
I prayed Elric hadn’t figured out what Imani was.
CHAPTER SEVEN
A Case of the Bong Conclusion
During sculpture class, I selected three students from my list and told them it was their turn to scrub the floor at the back of the classroom.
“Isn’t that what brownies are for? Why do we have to do this?” Maya Briggs complained.
I waved a hand at the chunks of dry clay scattered across the floor and a wad of wet clay trampled into the wooden boards by days of students working in my room. “The brownies didn’t make this mess. Students did.”
Hex Crimes Page 7