by Sarina Dorie
I nodded to the girls. “You two keep imagining the taste of lemon zest and building up that golden light in your core. I’m going to take care of a few things in the closet.”
I hesitated a moment longer, taking a deep breath to calm my nerves before I went in. There was nothing wrong with the closet, I told myself. Or the passage to get there. All the blood was gone. No trace of bad magic remained. Only when the door creaked closed behind me did I untuck my cell phone from my pocket and turn it on to use my flashlight app. The weapon of electronics made me feel safer.
Interestingly, I’d learned last semester that electronics didn’t make Red Affinities weaker like it did for the other affinities.
The electricity in my palm tingled, tasting sweet and delicious against the flesh of my fingers. I could give my phone power if it ran out, or if Thatch decided to steal the new battery like he had with the last one, but I preferred to charge it in Lachlan Falls and benefit from the small doses of electrical energy when I used it.
I descended the stairs, holding the cell phone out in front of me to reveal anyone who might be lurking in the shadows. My heart sped up as I passed the charred steps where Julian had died. I wasn’t going to think about that. I had a job to do right now, and I didn’t have time to dwell on that sneaky son of a Fae.
I rushed into a walk-in closet that might have been impressive if the shelves had been full. I had more than enough brushes, but no paint. Khaba had scrounged up supplies for me first quarter as a wish when I’d rubbed his lamp, but most of that paper was gone, save for a box of recycled paper. The pencils that weren’t upstairs were broken or nubs. Students had stolen the nice ones. Two Tupperware tubs of crayons and color pencils weren’t enough to supply classes with thirty-two students in them. Actually, I had closer to thirty-eight now that Julian’s class had been divided up and given to the other teachers for the second half of the semester. Numbers would be down again after Jeb found a replacement for History of Magic. Talk about a class that wasn’t going to prepare students for survival after high school.
I set down my cell phone on a shelf to angle the light so I could see what I was doing as I counted sheets of construction paper. One of the stairs outside the closet creaked. I poked my head out, making sure none of the students had followed me down. I didn’t think Imani or Greenie would tattle on me for having a phone, but someone else might.
I resumed my inventory. Twenty quills remained after what the students had done to them. I’d collected feathers from the pegasus stable and washed the manure off them so we could use them as quills. Early on, I’d gotten students to make their own inks out of ash, plants and berries, but there was only so much pen and ink I could teach. I wanted them to paint color wheels, draw with pastels, and make collages.
More than that, I wanted art to count for something in this ecosystem of magic. I didn’t want to teach the “easy class” meant for students the administrators didn’t know what else to do with. How could I make my class meaningful? I wanted to help enhance their magical skills.
It was hard to do that when I barely knew how to use magic myself and I only had a week’s worth of paper left. As I stood there, surveying the desolate expanse of shelves, I knew I was going to need to do something drastic.
Another creak on the steps drew my attention. My heart thrummed in my chest. I checked again, but no one was there. Reluctantly, I resumed taking inventory.
Khaba said he couldn’t grant me more wishes—not without really rubbing his lamp—which he had implied might entail more than I was willing to do. I was going to need to go to the Morty Realm where I could get a good deal on supplies. There was an art supply thrift shop back home in Eugene I liked to go to called MECCA: the Materials Exchange Center for Community Arts. The place was an art teacher’s wet dream.
But it was at least twelve hours away from the bus stop outside of that Podunk town in the Olympic Peninsula to Eugene, Oregon. Even if I coordinated to have someone chaperone me through the forest to the bus stop in the Morty Realm, take the bus to Seattle, and Seattle to Eugene, Oregon, and have my mom pick me up, I would have to carry all those supplies back. Not that I was keen on doing so after my last encounter being followed by the Raven Court.
My other option was to ask Thatch. He was more than capable of traveling long distances using magic. That was probably why he was the school’s recruiting agent. He’d made me watch his homeroom twice in the last week and miss a lesson on remedial charms with Josie so he could observe students in the Morty Realm. He’d even brought a freshman boy to our school as a result of one of these excursions. Maybe those favors would give me some leverage.
As I considered this in my desolate storage closet, I became aware of the breathing behind me. That was how I had known Julian had been there before. I hadn’t heard him walk down the stairs. I’d detected the shallow breath in the stillness of the closet.
I froze, trying to convince myself no one was there. The hairs on the back of my arms prickled. A breeze rustled my ponytail. Suddenly I felt cold.
I focused on my affinity, increasing the red energy spiraling inside. Fear made it churn and fluctuate unevenly. When I thought I had increased my power and was ready to defend myself, I spun.
No one was there. I sighed in relief.
I reached for my phone. My hand encountered solid flesh. I shrieked and drew my hand back. My gut reacted automatically without thought to the consequences or who might see. Electricity sparked from my fingers, the apparition of a man’s hand momentarily flashed in the blue arcs of light before disappearing. A man grunted. Feet scuffed on the stone floor and the stairs creaked in front of me, but I couldn’t see anyone.
I snatched up my phone and ran out of the closet, my heart hammering in my chest. I took the stairs two at a time, no easy feat for someone with legs as short as mine. I slammed the closet door behind me and sagged against it.
Imani and Greenie looked up from cleaning tables. Too late I realized I had left my list in the closet. I did not want to go back down there.
“Are you okay, Miss Lawrence?” Imani asked. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”
I had seen a ghost—or felt one. Even in death, Julian still haunted me.
To read more, go to Sarina Dorie’s website to learn about Hexes and Exes, including where it is available:
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Sarina Dorie has sold over 150 short stories to markets like Analog, Daily Science Fiction, Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, Orson Scott Card’s IGMS, Cosmos, and Abyss and Apex. Her stories and published novels have won humor and Romance Writer of America awards. She has sold three novels to publishers. Her steampunk romance series, The Memory Thief and her collections, Fairies, Robots and Unicorns—Oh My! and Ghosts, Werewolves and Zombies—Oh My! are available on Amazon, along with a dozen other novels she has written.
A few of her favorite things include: gluten-free brownies (not necessarily glutton-free), Star Trek, steampunk aesthetics, fairies, Severus Snape, Captain Jack Sparrow and Mr. Darcy.
By day, Sarina is a public school art teacher, artist, be
lly dance performer and instructor, copy editor, fashion designer, event organizer and probably a few other things. By night, she writes. As you might imagine, this leaves little time for sleep.