A Handful of Hexes

by Sarina Dorie

  I knew teachers weren’t typically supposed to touch students, but I could see she needed to be consoled. Our staff had failed her in so many ways already. I didn’t want to be one more teacher she’d come to for help who had pushed her away and made her feel worse.

  I took her hand and squeezed it. “Who else knows? Does Professor Thatch know about this?” I couldn’t believe he’d allow Jeb to try to brainwash victims like this.

  “No! Please don’t tell him. I don’t want anyone else to know what happened.” She shook so hard she could barely speak. “My mother said it could be worse. He didn’t drain me. He didn’t rape me. He just … seduced me with magic.” Tears flowed down her face.

  I met her gaze, unable to keep the shock from my face. “He took away your free will and ability to consent. That was rape.” What kind of mother told her kid that? Probably one who lived in the Unseen Realm. These people experienced this kind of abuse from Fae as part of their normal world.

  She wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

  “It’s not okay,” I said. “It will never be okay. He was a horrible person for what he did.”

  And Jeb was an asshole administrator for trying to pretend it didn’t happen and covering it up, probably because all he cared about was money. Did Khaba buy into this lame avoidance tactic as well? Maybe he didn’t know.

  I brought Darla the box of tissues from my desk.

  She grabbed a handful and blew her nose. “I heard rumors about this other girl in my history class. She was just like me, and we talked about it. Then she introduced me to this other girl who said it happened to her. I’m not alone anymore.” Darla wrapped her arms around herself. “But you understand how I feel, don’t you? He did the same thing to you?”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. “He tried to.”

  “You were ill the same weekend he died. You were the one who broke the curse, weren’t you?” Tears spilled from her eyes. “You killed Julian Thistledown?”

  I hated lying. I didn’t want to be put in this situation where I couldn’t tell the truth. Jeb hadn’t told me to lie, but then he’d thought it had been an accident. Thatch was the one who wanted me to lie.

  “You’ve put me in an awkward situation,” I said, searching for some way out.

  “Sorry. You don’t have to answer,” Darla said quickly. She sniffled. “I just wanted to say thank you for stopping him.”

  I placed a hand on her shoulder and stared into her puffy eyes. “If you need someone to talk to, I’ll listen. I won’t tell you it could have been worse or that it didn’t happen.”

  “I know you won’t.” She offered me a weak smile. “I can tell you aren’t like the principal or counselor here. And maybe … you need to talk to someone too?”

  There was no way that was going to happen. I was a teacher, and she was a student. It would be unprofessional to tell students my problems. But it was thoughtful of her to offer.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “None of the other girls wanted to come forward and talk to you. Not everyone wants to be identified. They all want you to know we’re indebted to you for the service you’ve done. I wanted to thank you on behalf of all the girls at this school who were hurt by Julian Thistledown. That’s why I’ve come to offer myself and my services. It’s customary among Witchkin to offer someone a boon after he or she does a deed for you. If there’s anything I can do for you, any way I can help you or serve you to show you our gratitude, please let me be the one to pay the debt.”

  “I’m not Fae. I don’t take tithes. If I was, I’d be like him.” Too late I realized I’d given away Julian was Fae, another detail Jeb had concealed from students and parents.

  She didn’t bat an eyelash. Apparently, the idea of him being Fae didn’t surprise her. “It’s the custom of Witchkin to repay our debts.”

  “Yes, I’m familiar with this. A-Lannister-always-pays-his-debts syndrome.”

  Her brow crinkled up in confusion. Apparently, she didn’t get the reference. “I hear Miss Bloodmire’s supposed to be tutoring you, but she treats you like a servant. If you need help with tutoring, I can help you. If there’s magic you need to learn, I’m Celestor. I’ve studied all the lesser arts. Only the divination and telekinesis stuff are hard. If there’s any language you want translated, I can do it.”

  A language I wanted translated? How did she know?

  “Wait a minute. Are you clairvoyant?”

  “Sometimes. It’s a Celestor trait. Is that a yes? Is there something I can help you with? A translation of some sort?”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Witch Path to Take?

  This seemed like the answer to my prayers.

  Darla could speak Old High German. Or at least I thought she could. But it would be unprofessional to get a student involved in the Fae Fertility Paradox or anything related to the Red affinity. This was the ultimate temptation.

  I cleared my throat. “How about I think about it?”

  “If it isn’t studying you want, I can do something else for you. I can divine your future or hex your enemies. If it isn’t something I can do, I’ll ask one of the other girls.”

  “Thank you,” I said. The only person I wanted to beat up right now was Vega. On the other hand, Thatch was on my crapaccino list at the moment as well. He was the one who had assigned Vega as my teacher in the first place.

  Her eyebrows raised expectantly.

  I patted her shoulder. “I’ll get back to you on your offer.”

  In the quiet of my dorm room, I hogged the entire desk to myself now that Vega was away. I kept trying to work on the cipher—or the parts of it that appeared to be in English. I really wanted to understand the section in Old High German. There had to be a reason Alouette Loraline wanted to keep that section triple coded. I suspected it contained the answers to all my questions.

  Whatever it held was enough to make the Raven Queen interested in me. I wanted to know why.

  I kept thinking back to Darla’s offer. If I asked her to use the Wiseman’s Oath, she couldn’t tell anyone what the manuscript said.

  I chided myself for the thought. I wasn’t going to involve students in this. I would study and translate it myself. Or … I could find the Ruby of Divine Wisdom and then be really smart so I would know everything. I would be even smarter than Vega. But the passage under the dungeon was lined with booby traps and that ominous-sounding Chamber of Horrors. I could barely survive a normal teaching day—did I really need to subject myself to booby traps as well?

  Instead of dwelling on temptation, I moved on to the next section of Loraline’s diary. It was thrilling holding something my mother had touched—reading her handwriting.

  Vega had said the cryptic page with names and dates was a Fae lineage chart. Was it the Raven Court? It might make sense why the Raven Queen had a vested interest in my mother and me.

  I needed to understand my mother and what she’d been researching, why she would involve herself with evil Fae. Deep in my soul I yearned to read the words that would prove her innocence of involvement in the deaths of so many Witchkin.

  I went to the library and checked out several volumes on Fae lineage. The entire time, Mrs. Periwinkle, the librarian, pursed her lips at me. She eyed me as if I was going to shoot laser beams out of my eyes and singe the pages of her books. From the skull brooch at the nape of her high collar and the little animal skulls decorating her witch hat, I could tell she was someone I didn’t want to mess with. I used the card catalog to look up a book on the Chamber of Horrors but couldn’t find anything.

  When I examined the family trees up in my room, I found them extensive, going back thousands of years. Most of the Fae lines stopped around the Industrial Revolution, though I could see a definite decline as far back as the Iron Age. From what I knew about cold iron, pollution, and electronics being weaknesses to the Fae, that made sense.

  One of the Fae lineages in the library book matched the dates of one my m
other had included in her journal, the genealogy of the Silver Court. I knew their name because they were considered one of the major courts, though I didn’t know anything specific about them. The book said they took the form of bright and sparkling beings that looked like angels but interacted with humans like muses. They could inspire artists to create … or drive them mad with pining. One of the differences between the Silver Court and other Fae houses was their ability to feed off the creative energies of humans. Their relationship was more symbiotic in the way they inspired creativity and then lapped it up.

  When I examined the Silver Court’s family trees, only one of the Fae children had continued to produce heirs. I wondered what it was about this individual that enabled him to sire children. Perhaps one of the other pages in my mother’s book I hadn’t yet translated explained why. In any case, Elric the Light Bearer hadn’t had any children for over a hundred years.

  The name made me laugh. The most fertile Fae shared a name with an albino version of Conan the Barbarian from a Michael Moorcock book. I wondered if he was emo and had a sword fetish too.

  The date the book had been published was 1956, so it wasn’t as if the genealogy stopped because of the publishing date. Either Elric’s mojo had stopped working after electricity became more widespread, or he’d died. In any case, he’d continued to pass on heirs for far longer than most of the pureblood Fae families.

  Most of his children and descendants were dead. Unlike many of the Fae lineages who were immortal, it appeared his children and grandchildren weren’t. The book didn’t say why this Fae was so virile, but I had a suspicion. At last I found an interview in my mother’s journal of a lady’s maid formerly employed in a noble’s house. Aileen Flanagan, the maid, was Witchkin. From the colorful dialect she sounded Scottish.

  Elric the Fair isnae like the other Fae. Bit of a recluse, he is. Avoids court life and rarely attends the grand balls. I overheard me mistress telling her snooty friends about his depravity once.

  He prefers the company of Witchkin and Morties in his bed. His kin jested he had been bewitched and fallen in love with one of us “vermin.” I dinnae think it were possible that what they said were true, not with the way those Faeries look down on us.

  Then I saw it meself at one of the parties. Or, in the servants’ hallway, rather. That Elric be young and beautiful and immortal, looking like an angel like the rest of his kin. His wife, though, she were an old lady in her eighties. He treated her real nice—kissed her hand and acted all gentlemanly, ferrying her away from me mistress who made her cry. Methinks all that gossip about him were true, and he did love his Witchkin wife.

  Was this Elric different because he was capable of love? Or because he chose to marry a Witchkin?

  I read more anecdotes and interviews about other Fae with similar “perversions.” It wasn’t uncommon for pureblood Fae to take human lovers or enchant humans into loving them for their own amusement, whether Morty or Witchkin. That was how Witchkin originated. Fae attention was fleeting, and they often forgot about these humans, leaving them to die of pining for them. They cast away the children—or treated them as property.

  The detail that my mother noted about Elric as well as a few other rare Fae, was that they treated Witchkin as equals, and thus were shunned and led reclusive lives. No one cared much about these deviants in the Fae community until they realized these “perverts” continued to have children while other Fae didn’t.

  I stayed up late translating the text. Line by line, the manuscript revealed the secrets of the Fae Fertility Paradox, and why it was a paradox.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Uncommon Magic

  I finished the rest of the passage from A Treatise of Witchkin Nature that was transcribed in Alouette Loraline’s journal.

  Those with a Red affinity lend power to others, and often have difficulty keeping themselves from doing so, especially when physical contact is involved. Such was the case of Bernard of Bourges in the 2nd Century B.C.E. who was defeated by a lesser opponent when he accidentally gave more power to his enemy, Raystorm the Magnificent, while Bernard attempted to strangle him.

  It is unclear what might happen as a result of two Red affinities battling or working together, since the Red is the rarest of all affinities. Such information died with the Lost Red Court.

  I loathed Julian every time I thought about how he had placed a hand on my arm or pulled me in for a platonic hug. Every move had been calculated to build his power.

  I had done the same with Derrick, though unwittingly. That one kiss with Derrick had been disastrous in how I’d accidentally drawn out his wind affinity. I longed to see him again, but if I did, it would be torture knowing I couldn’t touch him because I hadn’t yet mastered my powers. Being with him could cause him harm.

  Thatch had advised me not to touch others, students or teachers, with the excuse it was unprofessional. Yet, it was more than that. This was why he didn’t touch anyone. Not even me.

  It was why I shouldn’t touch others. Perhaps why I shouldn’t touch him.

  What would happen if two Reds worked together? I could see the information in this book didn’t just contain the mysteries of my mother’s past, but it outlined my future. If I understood what I was and how the Red affinity worked, I could make sure no one used me again.

  I skimmed the text I had translated, finding another quote my mother had written down.

  Outside of traditional procreation, infertile Fae and Witchkin must rely on magic to produce offspring. The problem of the paradox is that the magic needed to create will also destroy. In producing an heir, it kills those attempting to use it. Sometimes both parents die in creating a child.

  This problem is circumvented when a genetic mutation occurs in a rare selection of Witchkin who can tolerate electricity. The gene does not occur in humans nor in Fae; it only is found in a mix of Fae and human descendants. This rare affinity to tolerate electricity through touch is known as the Lost Red affinity.

  Reds are more likely to conceive or sire. Additionally, they are able to help others conceive. Old texts claim there are spells only a Red can perform, which enable them to create life through a kind of asexual reproduction that only uses magic.

  Was this how I was born? Was this why I looked so much like my mother? Or did I have a father?

  The key to Fae fertility is electricity. Many Witchkin are allergic to it, and it saps their powers. It will kill Fae—which is why they ban it.

  I now understood what the exact nature of the Fae Fertility Paradox was. I didn’t see why Thatch had been so secretive. It wouldn’t have killed him to tell me this much.

  I was now more curious than ever to see what else he hadn’t wanted me to know. In the next section I translated, it looked like the writing wasn’t a quote, but my mother’s own writing. I lapped up her words, trying to imagine her voice.

  I hypothesize we can create a tolerance of electricity in Witchkin with common affinities so that they will be able to do the magic needed to conceive. In controlled experiments using Subject 1 and Subject 2 as conduits, both of whom possess Red affinities, other Witchkin have been able to tolerate 400-2400 watts of electricity without harmful side effect, though after that, the rate of casualty goes up.

  So here it was, the big bad ugly. My mother had been testing on people. Did they know what she’d been doing? Had they volunteered? Was Loraline Subject One and Thatch Subject Two?

  I examined her charts of various test subjects given labels like “Male Water Elementia 2” or “Female Raccoon Amni Plandai 1.” Their tolerance to various kinds of forbidden magic was noted in columns by voltage with and then without Subject One or Subject Two as conduits. My stomach lurched noticing the death rates.

  Half the people involved had died in her experiments.

  Who were these people she’d experimented on? Teachers like Professor Bluehorse’s husband? Former students? This reminded me of Nazi experiments. How could I be related to
this woman? No wonder people hated me.

  I translated and decoded, whittling the hours away, possessed by morbid curiosity.

  Through these experiments, minimal success has been achieved among Fae. Their tolerance of electricity is low, yet if Fae are going to mate with a non-Red, they will need to increase their resilience in order be their own conduits of electrical magic. It is still unclear how to simulate a Red affinity’s superior resistance without the side effects of electricity amongst non-Red Witchkin and Fae.

  If Fae are not able to endure electrical magic, we must change our emphasis to only altering the Witchkin that a Fae mates with, not both parents. The key lies in the ability to produce a Red affinity in a Witchkin through a means that doesn’t drain Subject 1 or Subject 2. I know a Witchkin’s affinity can be altered and changed to Red, but I am unable to consistently recreate this in an experiment. More research needs to be done.

  My mother had tried to create Reds? She didn’t say teach someone to learn how to be Red or use a Red affinity. Professor Bluehorse was teaching me Amni Plandai magic, and Jackie Frost was teaching me Elementia magic, not turning me into another affinity. How could Alouette Loraline have created a Red affinity in someone?

  More charts showing the results of her experiments followed. Loraline had been very scientific about it. The Witchkin and Fae forbade science, so I took it she’d been something of a rebel.

  Sections written out in such a way that it reminded me of recipes from a cookbook followed. Were these spells? I couldn’t tell what language it was in. Not Old High German. There probably was a cipher, but I couldn’t even read the letters to get started.

  I still couldn’t figure out what it was my biological mother had done that made anyone into a Red.

  Once again, I found myself turning to Vega. I asked her for assistance several times over the next few days. When she refused to help me translate the potions in the book, I decided to ask Thatch. I knew I had to be careful how I approached him. I didn’t want him to suspect my motives for wanting Vega to mentor and tutor me went beyond simply wanting to learn common magic.