by Sarina Dorie
See if I decided to do her any favors! I was keeping that granola for myself.
The following day I did my homework in order to get a handle on my dream magic. I woke up early and wrote down my dreams, meditated, and read before I met the rest of the teachers at our first official staff meeting. It started off full of gusto with a pep talk from the principal, then turned into hours of boring details that nearly put me to sleep. And we had two days of this. Oh joy.
We sat on hard wooden chairs around a large conference table in the staff room. A banner with the school’s crest and team flags covered most of the puke-green wall across from me. A wood stove rested in the corner, topped with a dusty tea kettle. There wasn’t even a coffee maker or microwave like most schools, but I guessed that made sense with the Witchkins’ aversion to electricity. It certainly didn’t have a popcorn machine like Hamlin Middle School, but it would have been a nice perk if they had enchanted one to run on steam power and magic.
Like the previous days I’d been at the school, it was clear I was less than welcome, especially among the older staff members. Jackie Frost, the teacher who taught elemental magic, and Silas Lupi, the anatomy and physiology teacher, eyed me with disdain. Evita Lupi, wife of Silas Lupi, taught a variety of animal magic classes and oversaw Saturday study hall. During the break, Josie introduced me to Evita. She greeted me with tepid enthusiasm.
“You’ve got to meet Grandmother Bluehorse,” Josie said. “She’s so warm and friendly. She took me under her wing last year when I didn’t know anything or anyone.”
She looped her arm through mine and walked me over to an old woman in a gown fringed with green moss and lichen that matched the flora and fauna growing from her green witch hat. She reminded me of Radagast from Lord of the Rings, only female. And Native American. And without bird poop dripping down the side of her head.
I held out my hand. “Nice to meet you Grandmo—”
She lifted her nose up at my hand. “Only the children are allowed to call me that. It’s Professor Bluehorse to you.”
Josie’s smile faltered. “Um. Sorry. My mistake, Professor.”
Jeb waved at Professor Bluehorse and swaggered over. “There you are, Grandmother. I reckon you’d make a fine mentor for Miss Lawrence. She needs somebody to look out for her and—”
Professor Bluehorse cut him off. “You want me to protect the daughter of the witch who killed my husband?”
“Well, when you put it like that, it sounds a bit … ahem.” Jeb coughed.
My eyes went wide. No wonder she didn’t like me. I wondered how many other staff members my mother had wronged.
During our morning team meetings, I sat with Amadea Kutchi, my department head; Sebastian Reade, a quiet middle-aged man who was the foreign language teacher; and Jasper Jang, a bald but youthful man who taught choir, band, and drama.
The first thing that came out of Jasper’s mouth was, “Son of a succubus! I don’t care what they say, I am not teaching stagecraft. That’s what the art teacher is for.”
“Hang on to your hobgoblins,” Coach Kutchi said. She jerked a thumb at me. “We don’t even know if she’ll be alive next semester. That’s when you’re putting on the school play, right?”
“Excuse me,” I said. “I can hear you.”
The rest of the staff meeting didn’t go any smoother.
Teachers were given the afternoon to prepare for their incoming classes. It would have been a smart idea to use the time I had to get ready for classes. Or I could have read the books Thatch had given me. I should have done either. But all I could think about was how the other staff had whispered about me and avoided me like the Ebola virus.
I went to Josie’s room to see if she was in to talk. She wasn’t. I peeked into the next classroom down the hall to see if she was visiting another teacher. Evita Lupi glanced up from her desk and scowled. She was undoubtedly angry because Jeb had banned Mr. and Mrs. Lupi from sharing a room on campus because he feared conjugal acts might bring out some kind of sex magic from me. I didn’t blame him.
I hurried past Mrs. Lupi’s room.
Sticking my head through the next door, I found Julian Thistledown leaned over a planner at his desk. Just as the previous times I’d seen him, a nimbus of golden light glowed around him, making him resemble an angel.
He stood the moment he saw me. “May I help you, Miss Lawrence?”
“I was just looking for Josie.” I backed away, intimidated by his beauty.
Julian Thistledown may have been extreme eye candy, but that was all he was going to be. Even if Jeb hadn’t laid down the law earlier, I was not going to fall for another guy whom I would accidentally electrocute with my magic.
Julian called after me. “How are preparations going? Ready for classes?” He left his desk and came closer. His sandy-blond hair was rakishly tussled, and smears of ink stained his fingers. He gave off a sexy, absentminded professor vibe, someone good-looking, but unaware of it.
I resisted the urge to be sucked in by his good looks. I ventured back into the room, answering his question to be polite. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
His room was smaller than mine. The rows of table desks didn’t take up as much room as art tables. The back contained bookcases full of textbooks. The walls were decorated with portraits of wizened witches and school crests and colors.
“You seem down. Was it that meeting? I couldn’t believe how rude teachers were on your first day.” He spoke quickly, energetically, like he’d had too much caffeine. He was comical, the adorkable kind of guy I easily fell for. Even when I didn’t want to.
I cracked a smile. “It’s just frustrating. Everything here is so … different than I expected.”
He nodded sympathetically. “The adjustment to our realm must be difficult. I wish our staff had made you feel more welcome. It doesn’t seem like Thatch is helping much. Isn’t he supposed to be your mentor?”
“Thatch!” The bane of my existence. “He was supposed to give me books to read, but he ripped out the pages of the most important sections.” I hesitated, not wanting to say more, but Julian’s brows were furrowed in concern as he listened. Maybe he did care. I opened up a little bit more. “I want to know what my mother did and why science is considered evil. Thatch keeps thwarting every attempt I make to learn about her.” I sat down on a desk.
“That’s our Felix Thatch, out to make everyone’s life miserable to entertain himself. Did you hear about what he did last year with everyone’s prophecy chocolate?” Gold lights glittered around his face. “After all that work Puck did, he switched them!”
I found it hard to focus on his words when I kept thinking about how beautiful he was. I forced myself to look away. “Josie filled me in.”
He lowered his voice. “Science isn’t evil, by the way. Just dangerous. Fae can’t tolerate electricity or cold iron or many synthetic materials, so the evil overlords ban them. They might label those items as ‘wicked,’ but keep in mind, Witchkin just consider them toxic.”
“Like an allergy?” I asked.
“Just so. Many of us Witchkin are sensitive to plastic, blue dye number two, and other human-made chemicals to some degree, but to a lesser degree than Fae.”
“That doesn’t sound evil. Just practical to stay away from.”
He leaned against one of the desks across from me. “You have to understand, we aren’t the ones making the rules in this world. Nor do we publish the textbooks. The Fae don’t exactly want us to learn about science, or we might learn how to weaken their magic.” He waved a hand dismissively. “It’s all about Fae privilege and keeping Witchkin down.”
He seemed well-versed in this topic. I was glad that I had stayed to talk to him. “Do you think that’s why Thatch doesn’t want me to know about my mother? So I don’t discover something she learned about the Fae? Something that could harm the Raven Court?” Thatch had to be working for the Raven Queen. He had a pet raven, and he acted E-V-I-L.
“The Raven Court? Hardly. I’ll let you in on a little secret.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “For the last five years Thatch has applied to be the art teacher—for your position. Jeb refuses him every time for lack of experience. Thatch is taking out his anger on you.”
“No way. He’s not an artist. Is he?” Although, those creepy ink scribbles in that leather-bound book looked to be as much art as magic if they were his. “Why would he want my position?”
“We all joke it’s because he wants to finger paint occult symbols on the walls and summon demons like that other art teacher did a few years ago.”
Julian disarmed me with his humor. I found myself laughing along with him. He was easy to talk to and friendlier than most of the staff.
His smile faded, and he stared off into the distance as if lost in thought. “Now that I think of it, Thatch was the one who gave Mr. Ife the idea to teach finger painting to students because he wanted to get Ife fired.”
“Finger painting? At a high school level?” That was evil. Anyone who did that probably would be the kind of person to summon a demon. I wouldn’t be that teacher.
“So, what happened to Mr. Ife? Did he get fired?”
“No, the demon got Abebe Ife. Still, that wasn’t as bad as what happened to the other art teachers. Agnes Padilla was snatched by Fae. Then there was Jorge Smith, attacked by the students.”
I swallowed. “Wait? All the art teachers have died?”
“No, not all of them. Lisa Singer wandered out of bed in the middle of the night and mysteriously disappeared.” He leaned in closer. “Lisa and I were good friends. She told me she suspected Thatch was up to something nefarious. She kept seeing him send that bird of his into the forest with messages. I told her not to confront him, but she didn’t listen.” He shook his head sadly.
How could Jeb not see Thatch worked for the Raven Queen?
“You watch out for him,” Julian said solemnly. “We don’t want the fifth art teacher in six years to go missing.”
Holy cow! This job was cursed! I slid into a chair, picking Julian’s brain about the school and the previous art teachers’ disappearances. I had a suspicion the teachers’ deaths somehow were related to Thatch. Had they stumbled upon some secret he wished to keep hidden, or had he truly wanted their job?
“How long have you taught here?” I asked, wondering if he had been around long enough to know anything useful about the school’s distant past.
“Five glorious years.” It was hard to tell if that was sarcasm or he really enjoyed his job.
In any case, he hadn’t been around long enough to meet my friend. Derrick would have graduated before that. Then again, Derrick wouldn’t have started a magical education until his senior year. Maybe he stayed on longer.
“Do you remember having any students with wind affinities when you first started?” I asked. “I had a friend, Derrick Winslow, who came here. He has blue hair.”
“He doesn’t ring a bell, but wind affinities blow through all the time—no pun intended.” He chuckled at his own joke.
“Oh.” Another dead end. The more I asked around about Derrick, the more pointless the search for him felt. Maybe I wasn’t meant to look for him. Fate kept pushing me toward other mysteries.
“What about … ?” Did I dare ask the question? So far Julian had been cordial, and I didn’t want to ruin that like I had with Satyr Sam. “You’re a history teacher, right? So, you know about the school’s history? About my biological mother’s history?”
He cleared his throat and held himself taller, as if proud of himself. “It happens I know quite a bit about the school. I could fill you in on some of the magical details of the Unseen Realm. There must be a lot you don’t know.”
I couldn’t tell if he was evading the question about my mother. “Is there some reason no one wants to fill me in on what my mother did?”
“Everyone wants to forget about her and the murders.” He lowered his voice. “From the way I hear it, no one is exempt for encouraging your mother’s proclivities. No one wants to be associated with the dark arts or the crimes she committed. But your presence here makes it impossible for staff to pretend she didn’t exist. It’s a topic best not gossiped about on school grounds.
“I wasn’t here when the incident happened, but enough of it is general knowledge. I’m sure I could satiate your hunger for … information.” He said it in a teasing, flirtatious way.
My face flushed with warmth. “Sure.”
I tried not to let his beguiling smile lure me into more amorous thoughts. He had just hinted at something important: motivations for Thatch. My supposed mentor had to be hiding books from me because he didn’t want me to figure out his involvement in Loraline’s crimes. I wondered if Julian would object if I told him everything I wanted to know. “Do you have a copy of Womby’s: A History of the School?”
“I do, but it’s a horrible copy. After I took the job here and acquired my materials, I realized it had pages torn out.”
Why did that not surprise me? “Chapter thirty-two?”
“Indeed! You must be psychic.”
I cleared my throat. “Have you ever heard of … the Fae Fertility Paradox?”
He flinched as if startled by the question. “Ahem, no. I don’t know anything about that. It isn’t part of the curriculum. Perhaps I have a book about it I can loan you. I’ll have to see.” He chuckled nervously. “But I can fill you in on just about anything else.”
From his reaction, I could tell I’d blown it. He probably thought I was a freak now too.
Josie walked by. That was all the excuse I needed to end the awkward conversation. I rose and pointed to the door. “I should catch Josie before she gets away. Maybe we could talk about my mother another time—somewhere off school grounds.”
“Yes, of course. It truly has been a pleasure chatting with you.” He took my hand in his. The unexpected warmth startled me. “Pardon my forwardness, but would you like to walk down to the pub after dinner? Not as a date, of course. Jeb wouldn’t allow it. Just as colleagues.” He flashed a dazzling smile, white teeth straight and perfect. “At least until the principal sees the silliness of his new rule and lifts the ban on allowing dating between colleagues this year.” His thumb smoothed across the back of my hand. “We could discuss the more … taboo subjects you were inquiring about.”
My stomach gave a little flutter. Julian Thistledown was handsome, funny, and smart—a history teacher. He was willing to tell me about my mother. He would be a good ally. Perhaps more importantly, he didn’t act like I was a pariah. At least not when I didn’t put my foot in my mouth.
“I’d like that,” I said. “If Jeb lets me. He doesn’t want me to leave the school with anyone who isn’t a Celestor. Are you a Celestor?” I didn’t know what Julian’s affinity was, but it would be handy if he used the stars or moon as a power source like Thatch did. I was certain I would prefer Julian as a chaperone.
He straightened his ascot. “We didn’t have that team at the school I attended. But in any case, I wouldn’t be a Celestor. My affinity is the equivalent of Plandai, or plants.” He gave a sheepish smile. “I’m probably not considered strong enough, nor do I have an affinity that would lend itself to the defensive magic of Celestors, nor am I good enough at everything like Mr. Thatch to be a suitable chaperone for you. Perhaps Darshan is available to come with us.”
“Uh… .” Pro Ro seemed like a nice enough guy, but there was something off about him I couldn’t put my finger on. Maybe I just didn’t like how close he’d stood next to me when I’d been looking at the portrait of my biological mother. Perhaps it was something more. Then again, a witch was supposed to trust her instincts. I struggled to find a logical excuse. “We could, you know, find someone else.”
“We can see if Josie and Khaba want to come with us,” he suggested.
“Sure. They’re great.”
“It’s a date! I mean, ahem, an undate.
I mean, see you later.”
We both laughed at his awkwardness.
Julian was cute, and I already found myself liking him. I was glad I hadn’t let my first impressions bias me against him, but at the that same time, a hint of guilt tainted my joy. I still loved Derrick. I didn’t know what he felt about me after all these years. He might blame me for the tornado, or he might resent me if I grew close to someone else.
Julian lowered his voice. “We can talk about some of those other topics you were inquiring about … off school grounds.”
The promise of knowledge was the most tempting of forbidden fruits. It had nothing to do with the idea of an “undate.” My mood soared as high as a hippie on special granola as I skipped down the hall to find Josie.
In her classroom, a book floated in the air in front of her. She turned a page with her wand, not looking up as she asked, “What’s up, buttercup?”
“First, would you see if you could check a book out for me from the library? Mrs. Periwinkle might give you a different answer than she did me.”
“Is the librarian hating on you too? What book do you need?”
“Womby’s: A History of the School.” I launched into the story again. “Thatch gave me a book to read, but he removed some of the pages.” I sat on the edge of a student desk. I wanted to confide in her. I wanted to trust she wouldn’t think I was a bad person if I told her why. “The thing is … I want to know who my mother was. Everyone keeps telling me she was an evil bad-ass. They tell me I’m like her, or I’m going to be like her, or they don’t want me to be like her. But I don’t know why. I never met her.”
She nodded sympathetically. “For sure. Haters gonna hate. Ain’ters gonna ain’t. Sounds majorly annoying.” The book floating in the air drifted down to the desk.
“Do you know anything about her? Who else did Loraline kill besides Grand—err—Professor Bluehorse’s husband?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t here. Have you tried talking to the principal?”