by Sarina Dorie
I’d fallen into the clutches of the Fae. This time, I didn’t see any way out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Try This One Weird Trick to Summon a Fae
Fear rattled through me, clutching my heart and squeezing it like an icy claw.
A gray blur shifted between me and the snow fury. The slightest hint of warmth returned to my face, stinging like needles.
Thatch’s voice came out clear and strong, a song that matched the beauty of the elemental fury’s. Even under the notes of his song, I heard vehemence in his words. The sweet melody in her words soured. They argued back and forth in a duet.
Wings flapped nearby. Blurred shadows shifted around me.
He had called ravens? The Raven Queen? I was marked with her sign. It had warded off the King of the Pacific, but he had said it wouldn’t stop a stronger Fae. Was she stronger? Would it take the Raven Queen herself to drive off a snow queen?
Feathers brushed against my hair and face. I wanted to flinch back, but I couldn’t. I was too stiff.
The flapping of wings fluttered away. Warmth stung in my nose and lungs. My hands were still numb, and I couldn’t feel my toes.
Thatch’s warm hands dug into my shoulders. “You used magic, here in the Morty Realm, didn’t you?” he asked. “And in doing so, you summoned a Fae. Clarissa, how could you be so stupid?”
I tried to explain that someone had hexed me into using magic, but my lips were frozen together. A grunt of noise escaped my throat as I tried to answer.
“Don’t try to deny it. I felt your magic. You pulled electricity out of the homes around you. Had you used ordinary magic—like I had hoped you were learning in Jackie Frost’s and Professor Bluehorse’s classes—you would have been fine. Instead you drew from your affinity. The power going out opened you up for a Fae attack.”
He tore the blanket from my hands and wrapped it around my shoulders. The numbing anesthesia dissipated, making me tremble from the cold.
“Don’t move and don’t talk, or else you might tear something. I need to heal you. Do you remember how to give me your pain?”
He didn’t wait for an answer. He enclosed me in his embrace, pulling me tight against his chest. Had the circumstances been different, I might have enjoyed it. As it was, my continued blindness made me panic.
My face was still too numb to feel what he was doing, but I knew he touched my cheek from the pressure of his hand. The world of shadows and light faded, and there was only darkness. He muttered the words of a spell into my hair, the chant just as melodious as the winter fury’s had been. The warmth of his breath burned against my ear.
My brain was sluggish, and it was difficult to concentrate. Only when the pain bit into my fingers and toes did I understand what he was doing. My face burned like fire. I cried out and tried to twist away. He clutched me tighter.
“Give me your pain,” he said.
I pushed the stinging in my nose and the agony in my eyes down my arms and into him. I clutched at his jacket and leaned in as his body arched away. He gasped and then sighed and sank closer. He curled around me, drawing himself to the pain like a moth to a flame.
He returned to chanting. One of his hands covered my eyes, his flesh burning like coals. I pushed that pain out and into him. His breath raked against my cheek, and I had the sense he was breathing in the cold of my skin and exhaling fire. Tears moistened my eyes and streamed hot against my cheeks. I could blink again. I opened and closed my eyes. He moved his hand. The world was still a blur.
“Close your eyes,” he said.
Tears continued to spill down my cheeks, even through my closed eyelids. He chanted, his lips moving across my eyelids. His voice caressed my ears like a lullaby. Words became tangible and solid as they exited his mouth and pulsed against my flesh. I wasn’t used to feeling his mouth on my skin, wet with my tears.
His spell tasted like dark sunlight, the rays of an eclipse sweet on his lips. The melody of his incantation drifted across my skin and sank in. He painted magic against my flesh with his mouth, his words whispering across my forehead and over my cheeks. More feeling returned to my face. I licked my chapped lips. His arms were secure around my waist, inviting me to taste his magic. There was no more pain, only a tingling under the fabric of my clothes that sank below the surface of my skin. The intimacy of the spell left me with a different kind of shiver.
He brushed away my tears with his thumb. “Truly, I can’t let you out of my sight for one second.”
“Is that the real reason you came today?” My voice came out scratchy and hoarse. The rasp in my throat hurt, and I tried to clear my throat, but it was dry and irritated.
“Hush. Let me finish my spell.” He dipped his head lower. The warmth of his breath skimmed over my throat as he chanted. Some of the irritation lessened.
His hand was hot against the cold flesh behind my neck, feverish and pulsing with blood and life. Magic sank from him into me, the throb pleasant and familiar. Everywhere his lips whispered, the words became palpable and crept over my skin like fingers. I closed my eyes, lulled by healing magic.
My affinity stirred. My chest fluttered where it rested against his belly. The world disappeared, and it was only the two of us.
His lips moved to the corner of my mouth. The lullaby of his spell halted and stammered with the ragged rhythm of his breath. I snaked an arm around his neck. He continued to chant, the spell gliding across my mouth as he brushed his lips over mine. More than ever it tasted of starlight and storm clouds. Electricity raced under my skin. My tongue slid against his.
His fingers threaded through my hair. For the briefest moment, the gesture felt tender and sensual. Then pain blossomed at the back of my head. He yanked my hair back. I tried to shoot the pain back into his hand, but I couldn’t. He had blocked it. A grid of wards was erected all around him.
My eyesight was still blurred, but not so badly I couldn’t make out his narrowed eyes. He released me, and I stumbled back.
“What was that for?” I asked.
“I could ask you the same.”
“I thought… .” I swallowed. I had thought he wanted to kiss me. Or had that ghost of a touch against my lips only been part of a healing spell?
“The problem is you don’t think. You’re impulsive. You let your affinity rule you, and you do as you please without any thought to the consequences. What kind of role model is that for students?” He crossed his arms. “Pray, what spell did you use that called the Fae?”
“A warming spell. It was small. It shouldn’t have called anyone. My mom uses small spells all the time.” I thought back to the urge that had overcome me to use magic.
White snow clung to his black hair and eyelashes. “Your fairy godmother uses wards to hide her magic. She might not have gone to school, but she was expertly trained. You are still learning.”
I looked away from the storm clouds in his eyes.
His voice became a low growl. “Furthermore, Mrs. Lawrence doesn’t create a hole in the electromagnetic grid that hides her from Fae. You did.”
I had drained several houses of electricity for a little warming spell, and used my affinity, which probably meant I hadn’t done Elementia magic.
“Someone made me use magic. It wasn’t my idea. I was hexed.” Someone had also pushed me into the Pit of Horrors. Someone wanted to kill me.
“Just like someone made you search for the Ruby of Divine Knowledge? Someone made you leave students unattended in your classroom when they started a fire?”
“I take full responsibility for making those mistakes. But I didn’t fall into the pit. Someone pushed me.” If I didn’t figure out who, I might end up dead.
Thatch turned on his heel and marched back along the path to the house. He disappeared in the curtain of white.
Maybe he was right to be mad at me. I should have recognized an enchantment was at work and resisted harder. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to be compelled t
o use the warming spell or touch the seashell after Maddy had shown it to me when I’d first met her. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to be enchanted by Julian Thistledown. Vega would have told me to smarten up.
If I wasn’t going to be able to learn protective magic to save myself, I was going to have to figure some other way around my problems.
By the time I had made it into the house, Thatch was putting on his overcoat. He snatched up the tin of cookies from Imani’s hands and crammed the lid on top. My heart weighed heavy with disappointment.
“Are you certain you won’t stay longer?” my mom asked.
“No, thank you. I’m leaving.” His tone was sharp, each word curt, like he’d had enough trying students for the day.
“But you can’t leave! You said you’d stay!” Imani said.
“I told you I would think about it. I did. Merry Christmas.” He cast a venomous glance in my direction that said, Merry fucking Christmas to you too.
Hailey looked up from setting the table. “Whoa, the Grinch stole somebody’s Christmas.”
I wanted to hug him or pat him on the back, but I didn’t think he’d approve of either in front of students or otherwise. I sidled up next to him, as close as I dared without drawing anyone’s attention.
I whispered, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel … unwelcome.” Uncomfortable was probably more like it.
He snorted. I ached to make things better between us.
Mom stole the tin of cookies from his hands and handed it to Imani. “Finish filling this, will you, dear?” Mom stretched up onto her tiptoes and patted Thatch’s cheek. “You look tired. Is your blood sugar crashing? Sit at the table before you go. The girls will get you a couple more cookies.”
“I’m fine,” he said.
“Clarissa, get the mashed potatoes on the table, will you?” Mom, the drill sergeant, directed traffic.
She handed him a plate with a seven-layer bar. Thatch quietly grumbled about needing to get back to the school while he nibbled on the bar.
“Sweetie,” Mom snapped her fingers at me. “Get the hot pads and trivets on the table for me, will you?” Mom bent over the oven. “This turkey is too heavy to lift now that I added all the potatoes and carrots.” She bit her lip and looked to Thatch. “You wouldn’t mind, would you, Mr. Thatch?”
I shook my head at her. Mom had made turkeys bigger than this. She’d never had a problem lifting one. She might have been petite, but she could carry fifty-pound bags of potting soil when she did landscaping. He was not going to fall for that one.
He joined her at the oven, looking as enthusiastic as someone about to get a tooth pulled. “Where would you like me to carry the pan?”
I could not believe it. Mom could get anyone to do anything! It had to be her cooking. She must have included her complacency potions in the brownies.
Thatch helped her wrangle the turkey onto one of her giant platters. She chatted amiably about the herbs she’d used from her garden. “Can you smell the rosemary or does the parsley overpower it? I did worry I might have added too much parsley.”
He inhaled deeply. “I’m certain it’s fine. It smells delicious.”
Mom handed him a knife. “Would you mind slicing it for us? You look like someone who knows how to carve a turkey.”
Thatch held himself taller. “If you’re trying to say I look like someone who knows how to dissect a corpse…” A smile twitched at his lips. “you would be correct.”
The girls giggled.
“You do not dissect dead bodies!” Imani squealed.
“I bet he does,” Hailey said. “I heard advanced-level anatomy and physiology students used to dissect dead bodies when Mr. Thatch was the teacher.”
Thatch didn’t confirm or deny the accusation.
“No way!” Maddy said.
The girls’ laughter and teasing made us all smile.
By the time I was finished transferring the mashed potatoes, gravy, biscuits, stuffing, grilled asparagus, cranberries, roast vegetables, and vegetable trays onto the table, there was hardly enough room for plates. I hadn’t seen my mom cook like this since my sister and Dad had been alive. My heart twinged thinking of them. I wished I could have shared this day with them.
Maddy finished filling the cookie tin with Imani, and Hailey was done folding the napkins. The three girls whispered about the seating arrangements and sat together. I pretended I didn’t see Thatch sneak a piece of dark meat at the stove.
Thatch carried the carcass to the table. “Now I really must be off. I have no intention of imposing on you any longer.”
Mom pulled out a chair. “Are you sure you won’t stay for dinner, Mr. Thatch? We wouldn’t keep you long.”
His gaze flickered to me. “No. I wouldn’t want to impose.”
There was that word again. Part of me was still embarrassed about earlier and wanted him to leave so I didn’t have to marinate in the juices of romantic failure any longer. It was humiliating enough that he had rejected me, but he’d accused me of losing control of my magic. I didn’t want to be a succubus who used men. I didn’t want to be like Alouette Loraline.
The other part of me wished he would forget it and forgive me. I would have done anything to make him feel welcome and for things to be all right between us again.
“You wouldn’t be imposing,” I said.
Mom patted Thatch on the back. “That’s right. We’d love for you to stay.”
“Well, I suppose I could stay for twenty minutes. But then I really do need to attend to school matters. It isn’t fair to make Mr. Khaba babysit students on Christmas Eve in addition to everything else he does at the school.” He said it in his usual stuffy tone, like he had better things to do than eat the most delicious food in the world, but he didn’t fool me. I saw how he eyed the stuffing.
The table of food now assembled, Mom sat at the head. Hailey sat across from her. Maddy and Imani were seated on one side of the table across from Thatch and me. Mom squeezed my hand, so much happiness in the sunshine of her smile it spilled out of her and onto me. I smiled back.
Hailey reached for the mashed potatoes. My mom cleared her throat. All eyes turned to her. Hailey set down the spoon.
Mom pushed her auburn bangs out of her eyes. “Before we eat, I’d like us to do something we used to do as a family. I want us to each go around and say something we’re thankful for.”
This was more of a Thanksgiving tradition, and one we hadn’t done in years. Then again, she didn’t usually make turkey on Christmas Eve either. She made ham, but that was on Christmas day.
Mom held a hand out to me. “And we’ll all hold hands as we do it.”
Hailey groaned. Thatch shook his head at her. He spoke quietly. “We discussed this already. You will be polite and gracious to your host.”
Everyone took each other’s hands.
Thatch eyed my outstretched hand with disapproval.
“Mr. Thatch, I won’t bite.”
“Much,” he said.
He cracked a sardonic smile that told me he didn’t completely hate me. His large hand almost completely enclosed my smaller hand. The pressure of his palm was so slight he barely touched me. I didn’t blame him after earlier.
“I’ll start us off to break the ice.” Mom grinned, her enthusiasm radiating from her. “I’m thankful I have so many people to share my home with this year.” She squeezed my hand. “And that I get to spend this special day with my baby.”
Hailey snickered. Already I regretted my decision to allow her to stay the night.
The table went silent. The guests stared down at their plates like this was a solemn tradition. I gathered my thoughts together, trying to figure out the words for what I wanted to say.
Imani, seated on my mom’s other side, spoke next. “I appreciate Mrs. Lawrence and Miss Lawrence letting me stay here for the holiday. You’re the best.”
Maddy whispered, almost too quietly to hear. �
��I’m lucky Miss Lawrence invited us here. I’m so so so soooooo thankful to get to celebrate this holiday with a family.”
“I’m thankful I get to have good food once before I die,” Hailey said.
The girls giggled. I didn’t want to laugh and encourage her sarcasm, but it was hard not to after having lived on school food for months.
The girls had gone around in order. The succession stopped at Thatch. His gaze remained glued on his empty dinner plate. Hailey had snuck something and was quietly chewing. Everyone kept sneaking glances at Thatch. The silence stretched on.
I decided to go before the wait grew more uncomfortable. “I appreciate getting to celebrate Christmas with everyone here and having the chance to get to know my students better. I’m glad Professor Thatch decided to stay.” I gave his hand a squeeze.
He didn’t squeeze my hand back. I suspected he was still angry with me.
I tried to release my mom’s hand, but she held it. She kept her head bowed and her eyes closed as if in prayer. The table resumed the silence. If she was waiting to hear what Thatch was thankful for, I suspected she would be disappointed. He rarely said a kind word to anyone. He didn’t like expressing gratitude. He’d only thanked me twice in the entire time I’d known him. One of those times had been today, and he probably already regretted it.
All the smells of delicious foods mingled together; meat, butter, spices, and bread. My stomach grumbled.
After an unbearable wait, Thatch cleared his throat. “I will forever be in Mrs. Lawrence’s debt for her kindness and generosity. Not everyone is fortunate enough to have been raised by a fairy godmother who shows her children so much love. I will treasure the memories of this meal and this day for many years to come.” He squeezed my hand once and then released it.
I wondered how many Christmases he spent alone at Womby’s, reading books, giving detentions, and treating it like any other day. Where were his parents now, and how had he spent his days as a teenager while living at Womby’s? Had he been like Hailey, stuck at the school with no friends at the holidays? He’d had his sisters, but he didn’t anymore. He must have been lonely.