A Handful of Hexes

by Sarina Dorie

  “But she’ll turn Priscilla back if you bring her the secrets of the Fae Fertility Paradox, right?”

  “That will never happen.” The longing in his voice sharpened into the bitter edge of stubborn resolve. “I didn’t involve myself in Alouette Loraline’s experiments, therefore, I don’t know those answers.”

  But I knew the answers the Raven Queen wanted. Sort of. I hadn’t exactly gotten to that part of the book, but there was a spell in Old High German and some kind of ritual. It had to be the way my mother had solved the problem of the paradox. I suspected it was the third way to create a Red affinity. It was the way for Fae to have children, which resulted in a Red affinity.

  If I could translate it, I could solve everyone’s problems. I could fix Witchkin and Fae fertility. I could give Thatch the answer he needed to save his sister. Maddy wouldn’t have to worry about King Crabby forcing her to bed monsters until she conceived—even if she couldn’t conceive.

  But every good reward in the Unseen Realm came with a price.

  “Well?” Thatch’s voice grew louder, all pretense of calm gone. “What have you to say about that? Do you take delight in knowing I failed to protect the only family I ever had?”

  With the answers in Alouette Loraline’s book, I could create life. I would be able to help people. I yearned to tell him that, but I sealed my lips closed. I had a feeling he wouldn’t agree. He would take the book from me.

  “Are you happy, Miss Lawrence?” Thatch asked. “Does knowledge please you?”

  “No.” I didn’t know what I wanted anymore. Knowledge was a burden that weighed down my frame. There were no easy answers and no easy solutions. “I’m sorry.” I cleared my throat. “Do you want a hug?”

  “The only thing I want is for you to stop haunting me with ghosts from my past.”

  I could understand why Thatch had never wanted me to learn about my biological mother’s past now. Not just that it was threaded so finely with his own, but that it was so closely tied to my own future.

  I had knowledge. Now I needed the wisdom to figure out what to do with it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Every Witch Way

  If I had the Ruby of Divine Knowledge, I would be able to translate the remaining section of my mother’s diary. It would help me understand what to do with the knowledge of the Fae Fertility Paradox.

  I was getting better at using my Elementia fire spell, at least when I used my affinity. When I harnessed the essence of fire and nature, it sputtered out. With electricity flowing from my core and into my hand, the light was bright enough to serve as a lamp and stave off the chill of night.

  Armed with the equivalent of a magic flashlight, I crept down the stairs to the dungeon through the secret passage in my closet, my heart beating wildly. At any moment I expected an alarm to go off that would alert Thatch that I was trespassing in his lair. He didn’t emerge as I made my way below his floor to the crypt.

  When I came to the wooden door decorated with iron, it opened freely. I skirted along the edge of the pit, not wanting to fall in and disturb the hands—or everyone else at breakfast the following morning.

  A writhing sea of hands undulated below me. Some gave me thumbs-up gestures. Others waved or snapped their fingers as if they might be trying to gain my attention. For lacking bodies, faces, and voices, they managed to express an unexpected amount of eagerness.

  I waved at them. “Hello, hands. How are you tonight?”

  The shifting of skin against skin whispered back at me. I made my way along the ledge until I came to the next door. This one was locked.

  I placed my hand on the handle. I infused my will into the door and said the only magic word I knew that could open doors. “Alohomora.”

  The spell was from Harry Potter. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t work.

  I sat down on the ledge, crestfallen. I needed wisdom to guide me. Maybe I could use lightning to blow the door down. That would probably wake Thatch, though.

  I stared down into the sea of hands only inches from my dangling feet. “I don’t suppose you can open that door for me.”

  One of the hands hopped up on the ledge and pounced at the handle, tugging at it. More hands joined in. The solid wood didn’t so much as creak.

  “Thanks for trying,” I said, unable to keep the disappointment from my voice.

  One of the hands walked on its fingers over to me and took my hand. Another stroked my fingers, consolingly. A large hand patted my shoulder. The kindness was so sweet and unexpected, tears filled my eyes. The hands were supposed to be demons or lost souls, but they weren’t evil at all, they were just misunderstood. Like the unicorns. Like my students.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Can I tell you a secret?”

  The hands below my feet formed fists and nodded. I was pretty sure that was American Sign Language for yes, but I wasn’t certain. It had been a long time since I’d watched the sign language episode on Sesame Street. They didn’t seem to be objecting, or slapping me anyway, so I took that as an invitation.

  “I don’t know what to do,” I said. “I’m so close to finding out the truth, but the closer I get, the more danger I put myself and everyone else in. If I find the answers to what I’m looking for, I don’t know if I’m going to make everything better or worse.”

  One of the hands gave my elbow a reassuring squeeze.

  “I don’t know if I’m going to become like my mother and do something that might harm people, or this will make everything right. What if the truth falls into the wrong hands?” I stopped, realizing I’d used an unintentional pun that sounded insulting. “I don’t mean you. I mean the Raven Queen. If I can figure out the rest of the puzzle and tell her, she won’t need me or my magic. So in a way, that will mean it will be safer for me—and people like me. But at the same time, if she creates her own army of—” I caught myself from saying the word Reds. The hands might not have mouths, but it didn’t mean someone might not overhear. “If she learns the secrets to repopulating her army, she’s probably going to take over the world. She’ll grow powerful and enslave Witchkin. Maybe Morties too. It will be like the Dark Ages.”

  More than ever I wondered who had given me that book in the first place. Had it truly been Derrick? Or perhaps it had been someone with a sinister agenda, someone working for the Raven Queen.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Winter is Coming

  Winter vacation was coming. After the days of intense studies, homework club, and teaching, I was looking forward to a break. I needed to get out of the school and stop obsessing over the Fae Fertility Paradox.

  I had one week left before the break.

  The kids talked about the holidays coming up. On the last day before vacation, the kids got a party and the adults got theirs. I didn’t know what to expect from the winter solstice celebration after the open house All Hallows’ Eve.

  “Does that mean I need to set up more art?” I asked Josie as we hung out at lunch. It seemed like that was the only time I saw her these days.

  “Nah. This is low-key. We don’t have to show the school off to parents.” She adjusted her black-rimmed glasses. “It’s a chance to get dressed up in festive clothes and socialize without the kids. There will be mulled wine, ciders, and cakes. We exchange gifts—just something small for other staff members, but you should get something nice for the principal. We sing songs and hang out in the staff room until late. It’s a lot like the party the students have that day, except ours has alcohol. Also, you’re expected to bring some kind of food item. Mrs. Keahi will have the sign-up for the potluck. There’s a load of fun things we can make in our cauldrons. It will be so much fun!”

  I smiled and nodded. The party sounded like an introvert’s nightmare. As we approached December twenty-first, I made the necessary preparations. For all the teachers and staff, I made sets of notecards with personalized ink drawings of snowflakes and snowmen. When Josie and I went to Lachlan Falls
with Khaba, I bought a bottle of tequila for the principal that I wrapped in pretty paper. I assumed that was the favored alcohol of cowboys, but I didn’t drink much myself, so I didn’t know. At Ye Green Grocery, I purchased two boxes of chocolates, one for Josie and one for Khaba as an extra present for my closest friends.

  I wanted to find something for Thatch, but I knew him well enough to suspect he wouldn’t accept it. The only gift he might like was baked goods, and I wouldn’t be able to bring him any of those until after I visited my fairy godmother again.

  I considered getting something more personal for Vega, but decided I hated her too much.

  Vega tried on five different dresses and made me tell her which was the best. They were all tacky, but wonderful in that ugly Christmas sweater sort of way. One had a light-up reindeer she magicked into singing and dancing.

  “That’s definitely the one,” I told her.

  “What are you wearing?” she asked me.

  I removed a green dress from my wardrobe and a Santa hat.

  “That isn’t festive enough,” Vega said. “I suppose I could allow you to borrow one of mine if you don’t have anything better.”

  Was Vega being nice? Apparently, it truly was the season of giving. She loaned me a hideous sweater that was so long on me it doubled as a dress. With a set of green-and-white striped leggings and a Santa hat, I looked like an elf.

  The night of the party I showed up in the staffroom, discovering what Josie had meant by festive and dressed up. I was horrified to find the staff weren’t wearing ugly Christmas sweaters and Santa hats—only I was. They wore white or pale blue tuxes and elegant gowns with puffs of fur at the collar or edged with ribbons decorated with snowflakes. Everyone’s clothes were accented in white, making them look like the essence of winter. Jackie Frost had spiked her hair into white frozen peaks using magic. It snowed from under Evita Lupi’s indigo dress. Mrs. Periwinkle, the librarian, wore a cobalt dress with patterns of frost over it that matched her witch hat.

  Khaba raised his eyebrows, taking in my attire. He was dressed in a snazzy navy shirt that shimmered with almost as much magic as the rest of him. Vega laughed loudly, pointing at me. Instead of fringe on Vega’s flapper dress, it was trimmed in icicles. I could see I had been fashion-punked.

  She flicked a finger at my Santa hat as she sauntered by. “What is that? A flaccid dunce cap?”

  Vega joined Pro Ro next to the Christmas tree. He whispered something in her ear, and she laughed even harder.

  My humiliation could not have been more complete. My face burned, but I kept my head high. I would not let Vega get to me. I would embrace my inner dork and be that eccentric, funky person that only art teachers were allowed to be.

  Josie bit her lip. She didn’t say anything as she linked her arm through mine and led me to the refreshment table. Her witch hat was covered in teal and lapis patchwork, trimmed with mistletoe. Her flowy lace dress was tasteful and classy.

  I waved a hand at my borrowed sweater, trying to muster up my enthusiasm. “I say we make a new tradition at Womby’s with an ugly-sweater holiday party next year. They’re all the rage in the Morty Realm.”

  “Great idea,” Josie said with a wink. “You’re such a trendsetter.”

  Vega frowned. My cheery disposition despite her attempt to ruin my evening appeared to miff her. That filled me with some holiday cheer.

  Jeb tapped a spoon against a glass, drawing everyone’s attention. Jeb waved us all around in a circle. He made a long-winded speech about how he appreciated all of us and how nice it was to work at a school with such caring, considerate staff.

  Halfway through, Thatch arrived late and stood in the doorway. He carried a wide package he navigated through the door. During the rest of Jeb’s speech, he lingered at the door, almost hidden behind the package. I tried to catch his eye, but his gaze was glued on someone else. Mrs. Keahi? Mrs. Periwinkle? I couldn’t tell.

  I would have liked to sit next to him and share a moment of grownup time not talking about students for once. My heart gave a little lurch of longing, and I squashed it down. He wasn’t interested in me, and I wasn’t interested in him. The one person I had always wanted was Derrick. Nothing had changed. Except maybe it had. I didn’t know where he was or if he would be interested in seeing me again someday.

  Vega met my gaze from across the room, her smile sinister. I realized my brow was crinkled, and I was biting my lip. I grinned back at her and waved with more enthusiasm than I felt so she wouldn’t think I was fretting over my fashion choices.

  Vega was the worst coworker in the world. I had tried to be nice to her, I had tried to make friends with her, and the thanks I got was the ugly-sweater prank. I was done being kind to her.

  The moment Jeb finished with his speech, I stood up to get some more wine from the refreshment table. Mrs. Keahi announced it was time to open gifts.

  “You aren’t leaving already, are you, Clarissa?” Vega asked, a little too sweetly.

  “Come on back and join us,” Jeb invited.

  “I wasn’t leaving,” I said quickly. I did not want Vega to think she was capable of embarrassing me enough to make me want to leave.

  I sat next to Josie.

  She patted my back consolingly. “It will only be a couple more minutes,” she said. “Then you can change.”

  “I don’t need to change. I like this sweater.” I added loudly. “Vega gave it to me. She has such classy taste.”

  Mrs. Periwinkle who was seated nearby looked me up and down and lifted her nose at me.

  Staff took turns opening presents. After Jeb opened his third bottle of whiskey, I started to wonder if perhaps I should have bought him something in the nonalcohol food group. He unwrapped the bottle of tequila I’d bought for him.

  “Delightful,” he said, winking at me. “Thank you. I like to switch it up.”

  Josie and Khaba both gave me posters, one to replace a Van Gogh and the other to replace the Monet that had been destroyed in the fire. Some of the teachers had given each other cards. I sat in my chair, watching other teachers unwrap their presents. Professor Bluehorse still had a large pile to get through. Mrs. Keahi had only opened half of hers. I wondered if I should have done something more than the sets of cards I’d made for everyone.

  Josie leaned toward Khaba, the rim of her witch hat over his head as she whispered in his ear. “Technically, we’re both under the mistletoe right now.” She waggled her eyebrows.

  “Sorry, darling, it’s mistletoe, not mistlehoe. I can’t afford ruining my reputation like that. Think of how the staff will talk.”

  I tried not to laugh. I caught Thatch’s eye from across the room at the refreshment table. He poured himself a glass of mulled wine. He didn’t join the circle of teachers. He lingered outside the circle.

  I waved to him. “There’s an extra seat for you over here.”

  “Why do you have to do that?” Josie asked under her breath. “I don’t want that bag of dicks sitting next to us.”

  Thatch ignored me and carried the large package he’d brought in to Mrs. Periwinkle. From the flatness of it, I suspected it was a painting. I’d only seen Thatch work on one painting, and I wondered if this was the same morbid skeleton portrait.

  He presented it to Mrs. Periwinkle with a smug expression on his face. She handed her wine to Mrs. Keahi and tore away the brown paper. I couldn’t see the painting from the angle where I sat, but when I stood, I could take in her expression. A range of emotions crossed her face: first delight, then sorrow, then anger.

  Tears filled her eyes. “Why would you do this to me, Felix? I thought we were friends.”

  The arrogance in his features evaporated. “We are friends. I thought you would like it.” His brow furrowed.

  Mrs. Periwinkle shoved the painting back into his arms and rushed from the room. The merriment of the room hushed. I was dying to see the painting. I scooted over to see what Thatch held.

 
; The woman in the painting was young and blonde. Her beauty reminded me of Maddy. She reclined on a settee made of bones. She was draped in fabric, and her pose reminded me of paintings of an odalisque. The last time I’d seen this painting, the subject had been a study of muscle and bone, and I had thought that it might be Josie. I wouldn’t have known this was Miss Periwinkle, but her witch hat was tossed on the floor at her feet, the skulls and red roses the same as the ones she wore on her current hat. Had this been what she’d looked like when she’d been young?

  Thatch used light like Rembrandt, casting the subject in strong light and shadows. The details and romantic feel reminded me of the Pre-Raphaelites. When I looked directly at it, the painting was beautiful, and no one could doubt it was well-executed, but when I glanced out of the corner of my eye, it was like the painting of my mother in the hall. Magic hummed underneath the glazes of oil paint. The woman’s expression changed from a calm smile to one of yearning. When I looked again, she was still.

  Thatch stood with the painting in his hands. “Not the response I had hoped for.”

  Of course Mrs. Periwinkle wasn’t going to be thrilled for him to remind her of her lost youth. Felix Thatch might have been skilled at magic and understood the laws and rules of this world, but he was a dumbass when it came to women. If he thought a painting of the youth she pined for was going to flatter her, he had another think coming. This wouldn’t convince her to help Maddy.

  “How about I open up one of those bottles of whiskey?” Jeb asked.

  The morning after the staff party, Imani and I assembled outside the school in our warmest coats, waiting to meet Thatch at eight. He arrived at the front steps on time, dressed in a charcoal overcoat and wool scarf over his usual suit.