by Sarina Dorie
Heh. Hand-le.
“This is what you’ve done,” Thatch said. “You caused this. I expect you to fix it.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
All Hands on Deck
I stared in shock and fear at what I had done. My poor students. What if my sexy thoughts turned the hands into child molesters? Tears filled my eyes. I didn’t want to subject them to my emotions times three.
“What do I do?” I asked Thatch.
He crossed his arms. “Not my problem.”
I didn’t even know where to start. I stared at the chaos around me. Students screamed and cried. The hands weren’t groping them, at least. They were more interested in throwing food.
The floor was a mess of trampled toast, fruit, and sausage. I got now why Thatch had been disgusted I’d asked about breakfast. No one was getting breakfast.
The hands weren’t actually severed like hands that had been chopped off a body with muscle hanging from bone. They were cleanly cut, ending in a smooth surface the same color as the hands’ skin. The lost souls were more like The Addams Family’s Thing. I gazed around, overwhelmed by the destruction and fear they’d brought upon the student body.
“I don’t know what to do,” I said.
“You released them. Now you’ll put them all back.” Like a magician, he pulled out a large fold of fabric from his sleeve. It was burlap. As he shook it out, it became apparent it was a bag.
“Why would you think they’d listen to me?” I asked.
“You survived, didn’t you?” He shoved the bag at me.
“You want me to collect them and put them in here?” I opened the bag. “There’s a hole in this. What good is this going to do?”
“The hole is a tear in time and space. It will transport them to the pit where they belong.”
“Cool. It’s like a wormhole.”
“No, it’s called a doorway. And for the record, it is not cool.”
I entered the chaos of the cafeteria. I marched up to a table and snatched up a hand slapping a student. “That isn’t very nice. You behave.” I dropped the hand down into the bag. It wiggled and thrashed before falling down the hole and disappearing.
Wow, it was a hole in time and space. Wasn’t that convenient? Thatch had come prepared. I seriously wondered if he had pushed me into the pit.
The hands fought the other students and teachers, but they didn’t resist me. After frantically running from one group of witches to another with the bag, I felt like a trick-or-treater on crack. This was going to take way too long.
I whistled. “Hands!” I shouted. “Get in this bag this instant.”
A few hands scrambled toward me, jumped up, and hopped into the bag. I was actually impressed. I tried shouting again, but I could barely hear my voice over the roar of students shouting.
I turned to Thatch. “I need a voice amplification charm.”
He shook his head. “This is all you and your mess to figure out. I wash my hands of you.”
“Heh, good one,” I said.
He raised an eyebrow. Did he seriously not realize he’d made a pun? I stared at the sea of students fighting the hands. A group of girls stood with their backs toward each other brandishing cutlery. Another group of students tried to shoot spells at the hands, but one boy struck one of his friends instead, and vines wrapped around the other teen. Somewhere in the tumult I heard Khaba and Vega both shouting, but I couldn’t make out their words.
I spotted Darla who had closed herself off from the hands in a blue bubble. Fingers poked at the magic, but they didn’t break it. She was a Celestor. That meant she could probably do some kind of magic that would help me. I waved at her and ran over.
“I need your assistance. Can you make some kind of voice amplification charm? I’ve read about Witchkin doing those, I think.” Unless that was from one of the fictional fantasy books I’d read in the past.
Darla burst her bubble with her wand. She waved it in the air above her head. Purple light that tasted of starlight and planetary alignment shimmered through the air. A shush fell over the room, spreading out from us in a spiral. It wasn’t an amplification—it was even better. She’d dampened the sound of everything else. I needed to learn this spell for my classroom.
“Hands, get in this bag,” I shouted.
My voice was the only one in the room. All heads turned to stare at me, mouths gaping. Hands ceased attacking and scrambled over each other toward me. I held the bag out away from myself as a stampede of hands pattered toward me. Hands leapt up and jumped in. Students stared in wonder. Darla laughed beside me.
“It’s so handy you’re listening.” I laughed at my own humor. “I’m never afraid to lend a helping hand.” I waved to Thatch. “Looks like I’ve gained the upper hand on the situation.”
His lips pressed into a flat unamused line. Students cheered around him, but their voices were absent in the silencing charm. I rounded up the hands like a pro. Slowly the sound of students speaking returned. They cheered and clapped.
“Go, Miss Lawrence! You’re the best.”
“Like a boss!”
Khaba ran up to me, clapping me on the back. “Wow! Good work! Who would ever have thought someone could save the day with a pun?”
If anyone at the school was going to appreciate my puntastic skills it was Khaba. “You don’t think I came across a little too … heavy-handed?”
Khaba winked. “I can see you’re an old hand at this.”
“Enough with the puns!” Vega shouted over the laughter. “No one likes them except you two morons!”
Khaba shrugged. “That’s probably true. They’re getting a little … out of hand.” He laughed so hard he doubled over.
Vega crossed her arms, sneering at me. “I bet you think you’re some kind of hero or something.”
It did feel pretty good that for once the students thought I’d done something right. Probably I should have felt more guilt that I had been the one who had released the hands in the first place. If anyone had suspected how I had done it, I had no doubt I would be accused of using sex magic and probably get in trouble for it.
On the plus side, no one was seriously injured. Even so, Vega wasn’t the only Grumpy McGrumpface.
Thatch watched me coolly from across the room. It seemed I had pleased everyone by saving the day—except my two mentors.
“Miss Lawrence, in my office. Now.” He turned and whirled, disappearing in a twist of black mist.
I intended to march down to his office right away. But students patted me on the back and peppered me with questions. Balthasar and Ben ran up to me, hooting. I was surprised my worst students were there to congratulate me.
“That was mad, dog! You made it to the Chamber of Horrors, didn’t you?” Ben asked, mischief in his green eyes.
He picked up a piece of trampled toast from the floor and bit into it. I took it his three-second rule was a little bit more lax than most people’s.
“Did you find it on your own?” Balthasar asked. “Or did you follow someone there?”
Hailey crossed her arms. “Someone owes me a broom.” She wasn’t smiling. If anything, she looked miffed.
She was the only person who had known what I’d been planning.
I grabbed her by the arm, pulling her away from her friends and the crowd of students around me. “You were the one who pushed me, weren’t you?”
She wrenched herself free of me. “Let go of me. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her eyes narrowed.
Her two cronies followed us out into the hall.
“What? Did you push a teacher into the chamber?” Ben asked, chortling.
“No. I’m not stupid.” She rounded on me. “Well, am I getting my broom or not?”
“No,” I said. “The deal was you had to get me through the passage safely. You didn’t. You followed me and tried to scare me and then pushed me into a pit of dangerous creatures.”
Her pretty
face pinched up into a scowl. “It looked like you had everything under control.”
Did she mean this morning or last night? It didn’t matter. Getting suckered into an argument about her reward was a waste of my time. I didn’t even know why I bothered to try to help her study. This was the second time she’d tried to kill me—the third if we counted hexing me onto the ceiling.
“Find someone else to study Latin with you,” I said. “I’m done being Miss Nice Teacher.”
Hailey kicked the wall. “I don’t even get a stupid broom out of this? That sucks balls.”
I kept on walking to the dungeon. I already had ninety-nine problems. Her broom wasn’t one of them.
As I stepped through the detention room, a.k.a. torture chamber, on the way to Thatch’s office, I heard him and Vega quietly bickering. A small part of me wondered if I could get away with eavesdropping on them again, even though it was a sneaky and underhanded thing to do. But if no one was willing to help me learn what I needed, why not?
Then I tripped over my own feet and stumbled into a long table with shackles that looked like a medieval rack. A manacle chained to the table rattled as it fell off. There was no hope for being silent and stealthy now.
When I stepped into Thatch’s office, my mentors glowered at each other in silence before turning their glares on me. Vega reclined comfortably in Thatch’s “meditation chair.” In the chaos earlier, I’d failed to notice she still wore her black silk pajamas and a robe. She managed to look elegant despite the early hour.
Vega lifted her chin. “For the record, that was cheating. You were supposed to fix things on your own. You asked a student to help you. Don’t act like you didn’t. I saw.” Vega kneaded the metal armrests with her long fingers.
Thatch stalked the space behind his desk. I wanted to ask him if I could sit in his chair since he wasn’t, but his expression was too livid. I figured it might be better for him to walk off some of his steam before I said anything. His face was red, and he breathed deeply as if fighting to calm himself.
“You said I cheated,” I whispered to Vega. “Was that supposed to be some kind of test?”
“No,” Thatch said.
“Maybe.” Vega shrugged. “A test of my patience.”
“Oh.” My stomach churned with anticipation. I went on quickly, before either of them could. “No one said I couldn’t ask for assistance. Besides, what’s more important, doing something with my magic, or getting the job done?”
Thatch stopped pacing. He leaned his hands on his desk. “I suppose one might be impressed you made it out of the pit alive.” He gave Vega a meaningful look.
Maybe she wasn’t sufficiently impressed.
“Impressed enough to teach me… ?” I glanced at Vega, knowing I couldn’t complete the question. Surely, he knew how much I needed to learn how to use my affinity. Latin and paltry Elementia magic was not going to cut it against Fae overlords.
“No.” Thatch dismissed the idea with the venom in each word he enunciated. “If anything, such reckless behavior convinced me how immature and unready you are for practical magic.”
Defeat weighed down my body. I leaned against the wall for support.
“You know what I think?” Vega leaned forward, a sinister smile on her face. “I think we should tell Jeb how the hands got loose. Wouldn’t he find it … fascinating?”
I could see the triumph in her eyes. “And then you’ll have a room all to yourself when he fires me. Lucky you.”
“Ladies, I see I made an error of judgment.” Thatch dropped into his chair. His shoulders slumped forward as though he carried a heavy burden. “Miss Bloodmire, I underestimated your reliability as a teacher. Instead of mentoring Miss Lawrence as I asked you, you used her to clean your classroom, make photo duplications for you, and fetch your coffee.”
She glared at me. “You little snitch.”
I shook my head.
“She didn’t tell. The students did.” He had regained his composure, all emotion gone from his voice. “I can see I have failed as your supervisor. I thought I could inspire loyalty and competence in you. Apparently, I was wrong.”
Her crimson lips parted, but no words came out.
The mocking twist to his lips bordered on a sneer more than it achieved a smile—if that was even his goal. “Miss Bloodmire, I should have seen you were never endowed with the aptitude and skill to make a satisfactory teacher for so important a pupil.”
Hurt sparked in her dark eyes. She crossed her arms and looked away. “Maybe you shouldn’t pay me with half-ass effort, and you’d get more in return.”
He steepled his fingers. His voice was cloyingly patronizing. “I’m certain you’re right. As you’ve pointed out, it’s entirely my fault I can’t convince you to do your job effectively. If the intrinsic motivation of being an excellent teacher fails to inspire you, I shouldn’t expect external incentives would invoke greater reliability or competency. I had thought you might feel some pride in being the teacher who would get credit for educating Miss Lawrence almost single-handedly, but I see I’ve put you in an awkward position to do a job beyond your ability level.”
“You don’t know anything.” Vega clenched the armrest of the chair. Her mouth was set in a grim line. “I am more than capable of teaching anyone. Even Clarissa—if I wanted to—which I don’t.”
“Of course you are.” He waved a hand at her. “You’re dismissed. I won’t ask you to tutor Miss Lawrence again.”
“This isn’t over.”
“No, of course not. I expect you’ll continue to complain about it for quite some time. Good day to you.”
She launched herself out of the chair, giving him the stink eye before sauntering off. Her heels clicked on the stone floor as she left. She didn’t even toss a dismissive glance my way. Being invisible was better than getting skewered by her threats.
One of my enemies was out of the room.
Thatch leaned his chin on his hand, watching her leave. His lips curled upward, but there was no mirth in his eyes. I swallowed. I hated to disappoint people. Especially him. I wanted us to be colleagues and equals. Friends. I didn’t like that he was so mad about what had happened.
“I’m sorry about causing problems with breakfast,” I said. “I know I shouldn’t have gone to the pit in the first place. I won’t do it again.”
The condescension was gone from his expression as his gaze shifted to me. “Why were you in the off-limits section of the school in the first place?” He didn’t sound angry, just tired.
Guilt churned in my gut, making me feel even worse than I already did. Either that horrible clawing sensation in my belly was my own self-loathing—or hunger. Or maybe both. I hadn’t been willing to eat toast from the floor like my students.
Thatch waited.
There was nowhere to go but forward. “I wanted the Ruby of Divine Wisdom. I heard the students talking about it.”
“The Ruby of Divine Knowledge,” he corrected.
“Yes.”
His brow lifted. “That was why you went to the pit? That’s the truth?”
I nodded. Not the whole truth, but enough. I wanted to be honest with him, to believe he would listen and answer all the questions I asked. We could all wish for things, but that didn’t mean it would make them happen.
Thatch nodded. “Well, that was easier than I thought. I didn’t even have to play manipulative mind games like I did with Vega. How refreshing.”
I rolled my eyes.
He gestured to the chair. “Pray, why did you want the ruby?”
Of course he’d ask. I seated myself in the uncomfortable chair, using the distraction of shifting and adjusting my skirt as an excuse to delay answering.
Again, I couldn’t tell the whole truth. “I thought the ruby would help me study and learn better. Vega wasn’t helping me. I have so much to master, and there’s so little time, and—”
“Miss Lawrence. Clarissa.” Thatch wet hi
s lips, pausing between words as if trying out my name. “It isn’t necessary to become proficient overnight.”
“Yes, it is. I need to learn magic. There are monsters out there. Fae who will hurt me. I have to protect students like Imani—or any of my students.” Any of my deserving students who didn’t try to kill me anyway.
Or Derrick. I was going to find him and break his curse—as soon as I figured out how to break curses. That was assuming what he’d said in the dream had been accurate. I had so much to do, so much to figure out. It was overwhelming. That ruby would have been perfect for solving every problem I had.
Thatch folded his hands in front of him. “I understand you have been helping Imani … and others. That is a laudable way to make a difference in students’ lives.”
I wondered if he meant Darla.
For once Thatch was being nice, but he still didn’t understand me. “You don’t know what it’s like to be good at everything—every subject in school—except this. I was in physics and calculus and taking college-level classes while I was a freshman. Even after having that nervous breakdown, I graduated early and started college years before everyone else. I was good at everything. I always thought I would be good at magic. I can feel it in my veins, but it doesn’t listen to me. I don’t know how to control it.”
“You were never good at physical education.”
“What?” I was thrown off by the change in subject.
“You said you were good at every subject, but you weren’t. Cs are for average, satisfactory. It’s not failing and not exemplary. You were below average in physical education. But your teacher saw you tried and felt bad for you, so he gave you a B-minus.”
“Um, thanks. You should have been a motivational speaker.”