by Sarina Dorie
Assuming he’d kept it at all. More likely he would have destroyed it.
Thatch’s desk wasn’t locked like it had been before our wedding. The first drawer screamed as usual. There was nothing of interest in there.
I found his sketchbook in the second drawer. I didn’t know if he had any useful notes that might assist me in my search. A hand in the drawer grabbed my wrist when I tried to snatch up the book. I used my other hand to remove the book before threatening, “I have electricity, and I know how to use it. Do you want me to show you?”
I’d frightened the hand into submission with a cell phone in the past. I didn’t actually have a cell phone with me at the moment, but I could call forth electricity at any time. I didn’t know if it knew that.
The hand tightened its grip. I had never considered where this hand had come from until now. It might have been one of the hands from the Pit of Lost Souls. They fed on emotions, amplifying their actions in response. If one acted threatening, they behaved three times more threatening.
I had commanded the hands using my touch affinity through pleasure. It was possible Thatch had commanded them as well, but his affinity was pain. I didn’t like the idea of him hurting someone, even if it was a disembodied hand.
I stroked the back of the hand. “I need you to let go.”
It loosened its grip but didn’t release me. I kept caressing the hand until it went limp. I suspected it had been a while since anyone had touched the hand nicely. I gave it a little squeeze and a pat before closing the drawer.
I sat in Thatch’s comfortable chair, hesitating before I flipped through his sketchbook. He was secretive about his drawings. I didn’t like invading his privacy.
But if I were going to examine his prophetic drawings, it was now or never. He might have something useful about my fairy godmother—or the Fae Fertility Paradox.
The paper was filled with a mixture of writing, sketches in ink rendered with hatching and crosshatching, and combinations of the two. His handwriting wavered like ripples across water on some pages, making his cursive even more difficult to read over the background of imagery.
He’d drawn me in many of the portraits. At least, I assumed it was me, not my biological mother. It was hard to tell with the black ink he’d used. In the ones that he’d included my freckles or striped leggings, it was more obvious I was the subject of his drawings. In one, I posed seductively on his bed, lying on my belly, naked except for my shoes and stockings. I smiled, remembering the day I’d posed. Runes surrounded the image of me, the magic on the paper shifting and flashing with colors. I suspected it was some kind of protective magic, a ward he’d used to keep me safe from the Princess of Lies and Truth when she’d been attacking me.
I turned the page, finding more drawings of me. In one, I lay sleeping in bed. They were sweet drawings, all beautifully rendered. He didn’t often share his artwork with me, but I couldn’t see why. He was so talented.
I turned the page and gasped.
This one wasn’t of me. It was of him. He lay on the ground, his face expressing agony as he clutched at clumps of earth. The Raven Queen and a group of shadowy creatures stood over him. In the drawing, I stood at the edge of the frame, reaching out toward him, anguish on my face. Vines caught my wrists and legs, keeping me away from him.
I wasn’t sure if this was a nightmare. Or a vision.
Thatch had told me he’d seen his death. Was this it? Baba Nata, the witch who had seen my future, had told me my true love would sacrifice himself for me, and I would die anyway. Was this my death? Or his?
My heart sped up. I glanced at the door, afraid Thatch would walk into his office and catch me. Out of my peripheral vision, movement on the page caught my eye. It looked as though he were writhing. I stared at it again. The drawing was still. Again I looked away and saw movement.
He tore at his hair. I could almost hear him scream. The Raven Queen held something in her hand, but I couldn’t tell what it was. Red dripped across the page, slowly spreading like a wound soaking a bandage. I blinked and stared directly at the paper. It was as it had been before, black ink on white paper.
With shaky hands, I turned the page. The next one was a self-portrait. His eyes looked tormented as he gazed down at a shrouded figure.
I was afraid to keep looking. These were Felix Thatch’s secrets. I didn’t know if I wanted to know the future my husband foresaw. Yet, I had to know. I needed to see if my fairy godmother was alive.
The next portrait showed me lying on what might have been an altar. I held a bouquet of flowers. His head was bent and his shoulders hunched as he gazed at me. His chin was tucked down too far to see his expression, but he wore anguish on his body as clearly as a cloak, the burden weighing him down.
It looked like I was dead. The next page was blank.
With shaking hands, I returned the book to his desk. Those pictures didn’t mean anything, I told myself. It didn’t change my mission. I needed to find the answer to what the Raven Queen wanted. If I could prove to her I had solved the Fae Fertility Paradox, I would have something she wanted. She would do anything for an heir. She would give me my fairy godmother.
If Thatch didn’t have Alouette Loraline’s diary to help me, I needed to find a copy elsewhere.
Vega wouldn’t have gotten rid of something that useful if she had it. If she hadn’t stolen mine, she still had her superior translation. She was a Slytherin in a Ravenclaw’s body. Or maybe a Ravenclaw in a Slytherin’s body. I had a feeling the sorting hat and J.K. Rowling wouldn’t have known what to do with a witch like Vega.
After dinner, I spied Vega grading papers in her classroom. That told me I had a little bit of time to search my old room. I still had the key to the door, and it worked.
Two birds tweeted sorrowfully in the corner of the dorm room, as if knowing what fate lay ahead of them. I eyed Vega’s oversized Venus flytrap on her wardrobe, careful to stay away from it. For some reason she’d hung a noose over my old bed.
I searched the coffin under her bed first. There was supposed to be a false bottom in it, but I couldn’t figure out how to access it. I checked the desk, her bookshelf, the nightstand drawer, and her wardrobe. Nothing was behind the dressing screen in the corner or under her Art Nouveau style rug on the floor between her bed and the door. I was in the process of feeling under her mattress when the doorknob turned. I jerked back just in time to stumble onto my old bed and strike a casual pose.
Vega stood in the doorframe, as tall and slender as a model. The bob of her dark haircut curled around her cheeks, making the sharp angles of her face even more severe. She placed a hand on her slender hip.
Her eyes narrowed as she gazed at me. “What are you doing in here?”
I forced a smile, but it felt unnatural. “I was looking for something I lost.”
One perfectly groomed eyebrow arched higher. “What? Your marbles?”
I laughed at that. “Probably.”
I searched my old bed as Vega walked in. I couldn’t tell whether the distrust in her eyes was her normal level of malice or if she hated me more than usual after what had happened to her unborn baby at my wedding. There was no trace of that “best friend” she had once claimed to be.
“How are you and Elric?” I asked by way of small talk.
“Why do you want to know?” The response was about as conversational as any other time I’d asked in the last two weeks.
I had wanted to do something nice for her after she lost the baby, but when I asked her what I could do she’d only said, “Stay out of my way.”
I had.
Now I found myself wishing I hadn’t listened to her. A real friend would have sent her flowers, bones from the graveyard, or whatever usual things Vega liked. Instead, I’d been focused on my own losses.
Vega stalked forward. “Are you asking about Elric because you’re tired of your husband already and you want to steal my intended?”
“No. I j
ust wanted to see how you are and if he was treating you well.” I hated how cynical she could be sometimes.
She crossed her arms. “Do you think I couldn’t protect myself from the wily ways of a Fae lover if I needed to?”
I held up my hands in what I hoped was a disarming gesture.
Vega eyed me with disdain. “Or do you think I’m not intelligent enough to tell when I’ve been duped by a Fae who is using me to further his own agenda?”
“Is that what Elric is doing?” I asked. The last I’d seen him, he’d gazed at her adoringly. I suspected he cared about her, even if she wasn’t willing to recognize it.
“Of course he is. He’s Fae. He wants an heir. He doesn’t care who conceives it for him.” She looked me up and down. “You aren’t anything special.”
She was in a crabby mood. Probably because she was grieving. I didn’t blame her.
I rose, edging closer to the door, but she was blocking it. “You’re right. I’m not anything special,” I said, hoping an agreeable mood would endear me to her. “You’re more powerful than I am, and you can do anything I can do better.”
She tapped her foot against the floor. “Why are you really here?”
I hated confrontation. Especially with someone who could do everything better than me. “I’m looking for my notebook, the one with notes from Alouette Loraline’s journal. I can’t find it. Do you have it?”
She lifted her chin. “What’s it to you?”
I hadn’t expected any answer more forthcoming than that.
I tried a different tactic. “Part of my bargain with Elric was to give him an heir, right? You told me I could only do that if I showed I understood the secrets of the Fae Fertility Paradox.” I hesitated, afraid I was crossing into sensitive territory. “Well, I haven’t given him an heir. He’s going to collect that debt from me if he doesn’t have a child soon, don’t you think?”
Her eyes momentarily widened. The hurt I saw there made me hate myself for pouring salt on her wounds like this. Not that Vega wouldn’t have done the same to me. The difference was, I didn’t want to be a wicked witch. I wasn’t going to fall down my mother’s path and repeat her mistakes for the greater good.
Vega’s face smoothed into her usual scorn. “I’ve discussed the matter with Elric. You’ve already proven you were capable of making me fertile. You’re off the hook. He’s willing to keep his bargain with me so long as I become preggers again soon.”
“What bargain with you?” I asked.
She rolled her eyes and pushed past me. “Our engagement, you moron.”
I stumbled out of her path. She removed a bird from the cage in the corner. Its sad song grew shrill and erratic. I looked away, not wanting to see what she did with the bird next.
“I need to see if I can do it again,” I said. “It’s not considered good science unless you can repeat the results of an experiment. I don’t know whether anyone else can be turned into a Red affinity or if only you can because you’re a powerful Celestor and you learn quickly.”
She cackled, the sound low and ominous in her throat. “Good science. There is no such thing. Experiment. Ha! You should hear yourself talk. I bet Loraline would be proud of you.”
I hated that people in this realm were so prejudiced against science. I glanced at her, finding her stroking the bird on its head. Its discordant notes spoke of the same panic I’d often felt in Vega’s presence in the past.
“Fine. You don’t have to help me,” I said.
“That wasn’t an insult,” Vega said.
I glanced over in time to see her thrust the bird at the plant. She released the sparrow. The plant snatched it up. The song cut out. I turned away.
“Do you have my notebook?” I asked.
“I have it. I’m willing to return it to you . . . for a price.”
There was no way I was going to fall into one of those traps.
“Aren’t you going to ask what the price is?” she asked a little too sweetly.
I walked away. “No. Maybe another time.”
I had to find another way to help Maddy—and make deals with the Raven Queen—that didn’t involve bargaining with the devil.
I had failed in my attempt to retrieve anything useful for the Fae Fertility Paradox. If I were as brilliant as Vega, I probably could piece it together as she had, but my magical education was incomplete.
I needed help. I wrote a letter to Elric, trying to word my proposition better than I had to Vega. I also had to be discreet. Just because I sealed an envelope didn’t mean someone else out there couldn’t search the mail for certain phrases like “Fae Fertility Paradox,” “Red affinity,” or “Alouette Loraline’s experiments.”
After I placed the letter in the outgoing mail, I considered what more I needed to do.
If Thatch made me a potion to enhance my proficiency in magical learning, it wouldn’t only benefit my knowledge of my own magic, but I could use it to learn any skill. It would increase my ability to learn potions and spells. I could enhance what I knew about the Fae Fertility Paradox to help Maddy and further my abilities to protect myself against the Raven Queen so I could help my mom.
Thatch’s reluctance in giving it to me only reinforced my suspicions that he didn’t want me to know powerful magic. Had he given it to me months ago—years ago—I could have learned the magic I needed to kick the Raven Queen to the curb. But Thatch had never wanted me to face the Raven Court. As much as he’d tried to train me to face my fears and overcome my weakness, the same lessons he taught the students at our school, he’d always been protective of me and my magic. He’d been as fretful as a helicopter parent, unwittingly enabling a loved one’s weaknesses.
I wasn’t certain whether he would make the competency potion for me now or I would need Vega for that. Another favor I didn’t want to ask my wicked ex-roommate.
I went to the library after dinner and asked Maddy for help finding a competency spell in the card catalogue.
“Is this for you-know-what?” she whispered excitedly.
I hated to lie to her, so instead I said, “We’ll see.”
Her shoulders sagged in disappointment. She helped me find three different books. None of the spells were a perfect match for what I needed. One was a charm that involved infusing the skill of competency into an object like a piece of jewelry. I didn’t wear much jewelry aside from my wedding ring and the amulet Elric had given me for protection. Neither of those items would work because the jewelry had to be free of other magics. I suspected my wedding ring served as a binding contract, and contracts had power in the Unseen Realm.
The jewelry also needed to be free of cold iron. I didn’t know if any of the other pieces of jewelry I owned contained synthetic impurities from the Morty Realm or toxic substances like cold iron that would affect the magic.
One of the other drawbacks to this spell was that it could only work when wearing the object, the effects would only last a couple of minutes, and the charm needed to recharge for a few hours before the competency could be used again.
The second spell was a complex one that could only be used on someone without any wards or spells of protection on them. This sounded dangerous. For all I knew, this spell was a beacon to call Fae after one had discharged all wards and an individual was at his or her weakest. The third spell used complex Celestor magic infused into a potion that I probably wasn’t capable of since I’d never studied magic that used starlight. I would need a competency potion to make this competency potion. Most likely, this was the spell Thatch had used previously.
In one of the books, it also mentioned the fabled Ruby of Divine Wisdom. This could assist a Witchkin using any kind of magic. There was no way I was going to go looking for that again. I had learned my lesson after my last search.
I tried the first spell in the privacy of my classroom using an old ring that had belonged to my grandmother on my father’s side. I imagined it was safe. It was twenty-four-karat g
old, so scratched and misshapen I didn’t doubt the purity of the soft metal. After three repetitions of the spell, I still couldn’t get it to work.
I went to Josie Kimura’s dorm room, a temporary jolt of fear making me wonder if this was a bad idea. I didn’t want my friend to get involved in anything dangerous. I had to be careful in how I worded my request.
I knocked, hearing a scuffle inside. “It’s me—Clarissa.”
No answer came. I knocked again.
Josie answered the door, cracking it ajar. “Oh, hi.”
She wore one of her long flowing dresses of patchwork lace. Her lavender witch hat was flung across her bed and her black-framed glasses sat slightly askew on her face. A musky male scent wafted out of her room, the perfume a pleasant blend of desire mixed with green plants and damp earth that was oddly enticing.
I tried to peek around her. “Is Pinky in here?”
She pressed a finger to her lips and stuck her head out the door. The only people in the entire school who might chastise her for breaking the rule of having a male staff member in her room was Chuck Dean, our new principal, and Khaba, our dean of discipline.
Josie opened the door wider, tugging me into her room. I glanced around, not seeing the eight-foot-tall sasquatch. I followed my nose along the perimeter of Josie’s room, passing weavings and tapestries she’d created to decorate her walls. Doilies decorated the table in the corner, and an afghan was spread across her quilted bedspread. I stopped at the door that led up to the bathroom on the next level that she shared with Jackie Frost.
“What are you doing?” Josie asked.
“Pin the tail on the sasquatch.” I opened the door. No one was there, though the perfume of nature increased.
Before my eyes, the air waivered. Pinky stepped out of the shadows and ducked under the doorframe. His head nearly brushed the ceiling. Today he sported a brown Utilikilt that was the same shade as his chestnut fur, his only attempt at modesty.
Pinky wore a white gauze eyepatch over his left eye, the last of his wounds from the Raven Court’s attack. Because his eye hadn’t been hexed or cursed and it had been gouged by a talon, it stood a chance of healing with the aid of potions.