Wedding Bells and Midnight Spells

by Sarina Dorie

  Behind the teacher’s desk was a closed door that might have been a closet. Thatch’s desk was everything mine wasn’t. Files were stacked neatly in piles with a lesson-plan book closed on top. An ink quill rested next to a blotter pad.

  Two students sat at desks furiously writing essays. Neither looked up at me. Dripping echoed somewhere in the distance, enhancing the eerie effect of a dungeon where people might be tortured.

  Thatch wasn’t seated behind his desk, which meant he was probably somewhere nearby. I passed through his classroom to the far door. The short hallway beyond led to a detention room.

  A teenage voice in the next room said something in a snotty tone that told me the detention room was occupied. Felix Thatch paced before a trio of students chained to the walls. His dark hair cascaded rakishly over his shoulders, blending in with the dark gray tweed of his jacket in the gloomy shadows. My husband’s stern expression and rigid posture hinted that it had been quite the day.

  I was newly married. I should have felt joy at seeing my husband. At one time, when I’d gazed at his face, I’d seen beauty and affection. These days, it was difficult to see him and not think about the cunning in those eyes. This was the man who had tricked me into staying at Womby’s with an oath instead of leaving to rescue my mom. Again and again in the past, he had lied to me and manipulated me. I wanted to believe those days of deceit were over, but I couldn’t get past it.

  A freshman boy I’d been lucky enough to avoid having in my classroom screamed and writhed, whipping his brown hair this way and that. Snow fell on him from an invisible cloud, and he shook it off.

  “Please! No more!” he screamed. “How long are you going to torture us like this?”

  Thatch didn’t even glance at him as he paced. “As long as it takes for you to … cool off.”

  I continued walking forward, uncertain whether now was a good time to walk past to fetch my apron. I would rather have gotten more paint on me than provoke Felix Thatch’s bad mood.

  “Hi, Ms. Lawrence,” Balthasar Llewelyn said, grinning at me jovially. His elf ears poked out of his dark mop of hair. “Are you here for kissy-time with Mr. Thatch?”

  “Silence,” Thatch said in a crisp British monotone that would have chilled the infernos of hell. “If you are able to talk, it means you must not be suffering enough.”

  He aimed his wand at Balthasar’s feet. The troublemaker opened his mouth, looking like he was about to say something sassy, but the flames crackling around his feet stole his attention. He squeezed his eyes closed and growled. Fire was his affinity’s weakness.

  Balthasar shook in silence. At least his school uniform was intact. This fire must have been some kind of illusion, like a mirage that he could feel. Balthasar had never been one of my good students. In my time at the school, he’d cursed at me—as in using profanity. He’d also tried to curse me—as in hex me. He’d skipped my classes and spied on me when I’d been dating Elric, a Fae prince.

  Despite the many ways Balthasar had proven himself to be a pain in the rear end, it was painful to watch him suffer. He’d had a difficult year that included his sister’s death.

  Sometimes Thatch’s detention methods were a bit overkill. It was hard to tell how much of the Red affinity in him enjoyed the suffering of others. I wanted to believe he was completely in control of himself and his pain magic. Perhaps Derrick was the one who had put the idea in my head that Thatch wasn’t a master of his magic.

  I pushed away the rising tide of guilt and bitterness that Derrick had caused me. I would not think of him. This wasn’t the time to fall into that pit of grief.

  Thatch had a full wall today. A third student, a girl with a curtain of curly black hair obscuring all but her pointed nose, watched me. Flowers—or perhaps the illusion of them—blossomed all around her. The air smelled of roses and pine trees. I couldn’t guess her affinity. I didn’t know what kind of creature’s weakness would be plants. Obviously she wasn’t Amni Plandai. Maybe she was a Celestor and drew her power from the stars instead of things that grew from the earth.

  She howled in agony and thrashed as I walked by. “Please, help me. Miss Lawrence, please!”

  Not another entreaty to save someone’s soul. There was only so much I could handle in one day. I didn’t even know who this girl was, but apparently she knew me. Not well enough to get my title right, so she was probably a new student.

  Thatch waved a hand at her, the intensity of the flower aroma increasing. She howled.

  I tugged on the sleeve of Thatch’s tweed jacket, standing on my tiptoes to whisper closer to his ear. “Hey, those students look like they’re in serious pain. Isn’t this method of discipline a little, you know, extreme? They’re just kids.”

  “Don’t let their tears fool you. They only do that because they think I might go easier on them. This punishment uses much of their affinity magic fighting the elements that weaken them most. Their true torment is … boredom.” He spoke slowly, stretching out the words, his tone absent of emotion.

  This wasn’t so different from his lessons with me to teach me to fight my weakness of pain. What I hadn’t mastered yet was what fueled my magic. Too much pleasure made me putty in anyone’s hands. Then again, I had mastered myself enough to overcome my feelings for Derrick. I’d formed a plan and executed it to keep myself from being captured by the Raven Queen. Doing so had turned me into the kind of wicked witch my biological mother would have been proud to raise.

  I didn’t like knowing I was capable of such horrible deeds. I forced myself to smile and pretend I wasn’t mentally beating myself up again.

  “Are you here for business or pleasure?” Thatch asked, a hint of a smile lacing his lips.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was just on my way to our room to grab my apron.” I backed away.

  “Don’t leave us! Please, Ms. Lawrence! Don’t let him hurt us,” Balthasar shouted to me.

  I tried to block out the desperation in his voice as I headed into the next room. Thatch wouldn’t actually do anything to hurt the students.

  So why did doubt needle at my mind?

  I stepped into another chamber with antique torture instruments on display that I’d been told was Thatch’s relaxing room—it was my friend Josie who told me—and I didn’t know how much of that was a joke, knowing his affinity.

  The cries of the students echoed in the dungeon, amplifying and warping, sounding older, more feminine. It made me think of Abigail Lawrence in the Raven Queen’s dungeon. Thatch had assured me she was safe from physical torture. I had time to build my magical skills before we went to rescue her.

  “That stupid bitch isn’t going to help you,” the female student said. “All the teachers are stupid assholes who just want to—”

  “Language,” Thatch said. “I will not permit you to use such disrespectful vocabulary when referring to your teachers. Perhaps you have never heard the idiom: if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”

  The teenage girl’s voice grew muffled. Balthasar laughed loudly. It wouldn’t surprise me if Thatch had glued her mouth closed.

  “Quiet, or you’ll be next,” Thatch said. “Now focus on subduing your weaknesses.”

  As I stepped past the display room and into his office, the voices grew more distant. A metal torture chair across from his desk shone under a chandelier; the focused lighting reminded me of a spotlight. His desk chair was a comfy cushioned one, modern with padded armrests and made from a combination of metal, fabric, and plastic that felt out of place in a medieval dungeon.

  Priscilla, Thatch’s raven, pecked at the metal latch of her cage, wanting out. His familiar stopped when she saw me approach, her beady eye wary. Even after I had been at the school for three years and had married Felix Thatch, I had a feeling she would gouge out my eyeballs with her talons if she had the opportunity.

  No student would ever dare to go this far into the belly of the dungeon volunt
arily. It was unlikely Thatch needed a lock or magical ward on his door. Fae, on the other hand, were a different story. I placed my hand on the doorknob, waiting to be permitted entry. Purple stars flickered in the air around me, tingling against my hand as if tasting my essence. The air smelled of moonlight and winter air.

  The latch popped, and the door opened.

  Immediately, I headed to the hamper in the adjoining room. It was a classy bathroom with creamy marble and mosaics that made it look like a Grecian palace, so different from the rest of the dungeon. Water trickled from the sauna and soaking bath in the room past this one.

  I pulled the laundry out of the hamper, placing Thatch’s pajamas on the sink next to a potted orchid and his toothbrush holder, as I dug through the dirty clothes. Even though my art apron was covered in a week’s worth of clay, and I had placed it in the basket that morning because I’d decided it was too crusty to keep me clean, this was a better option than no apron at all.

  A black shadow streaked past me and leapt onto the counter. I jumped back, my elbow smacking the potted plant on the counter behind me and knocking it to the floor with a crash. I let out a little shriek before I realized the little black demon was Lucifer, my mom’s cat.

  I’d knocked my mom’s purple-and-white orchid onto the tile floor, and the ceramic pot had shattered. I stared in horror at the broken pieces. The stem of the plant was bent unnaturally, reminding me of a broken limb. Potting soil speckled the white floor.

  My mom had given me that plant right before the wedding. It had been a good-luck present.

  Tears filled my eyes as I crouched to salvage the orchid. The petals of the orchid were bruised and dirtied. I attempted to push the potting soil back into the remainder of the pot and stand the orchid up, but it leaned listlessly to the side, the upper half bent and dangling. Something about the pathetic flower broken and damaged reminded me of a woman’s figure.

  First there had been the red stain that looked like blood on my blouse. Now my mom’s flower was mangled. Maybe it was a sign. Abigail Lawrence might be hurt. The Raven Queen might be breaking her bones and torturing the truth out of her about me. Tears welled up in my eyes.

  Thatch had probably lied to me about her being safe. Just like he lied about everything.

  Lucifer meowed.

  “Out!” I pointed to Lucifer. “This is your fault.”

  My mom’s cat had never been one to listen to orders. His eyes narrowed at me, and he hissed from his perch on the counter.

  I sat on the floor and cried. I would do anything to help my mom. I hated feeling weak and helpless against the powerful tyrants who ruled this realm. I needed to work harder.

  After I spent several more minutes sobbing and hating the world, I was calm enough to think.

  I was a witch with powerful magic. I had killed with lightning to protect myself. There was no reason I couldn’t use magic to solve this problem. I could use my affinity to fix any object—except for a stain on synthetic fabric.

  The plant and pot were all made from organic materials. I could do this.

  I reached into the well of magic inside me, thinking happy thoughts. My affinity was fresh and powerful from being rejuvenated the previous night by having sex.

  I uttered the words of a healing incantation I’d learned to mend broken pottery that Jackie Frost had taught me. I’d used it previously when students dropped their art projects. As I brushed my fingers over the shards of terra-cotta, the air under my hand hummed with magic. I pushed the pieces together, the clay fusing whole, bits falling back into place. Using the touch magic of my affinity that I had to keep secret, I caressed the curve of the pot, enjoying the sensation as it melded into place.

  I didn’t even need to get my hands dirty as I motioned for the dirt to refill the vessel. Magic acted for me. I breathed in the past and breathed out the future, my will infused into the air.

  I didn’t know if the spell would work for plants, but Grandmother Bluehorse had taught me enough Amni Plandai magic that I felt I had a chance at success. I infused the essence of plants into the incantation.

  I cradled the pot to my chest as I ran my fingers along the green stem and straightened the plant fibers to set them into place. I strengthened the spine and infused love into the plant, imagining I was stroking my mom’s hand. I visualized I was soothing one of her injuries rather than one of her plant familiar’s wounds. Damaged chlorophyll cells rearranged themselves under my fingers, replenishing their oozing fluids and flowing into place.

  I smoothed my fingers over the bruises and tears on the crumpled petals. The flowers returned to the pristine perfection that they had been before. The petals were now more peachy-pink than white, perhaps a side effect of the magic. Purple dots in the center shifted. The composition looked less like the pattern that usually adorned an orchid. The shape that the spots formed reminded me of a pair of eyes watching me. It could have been any woman’s eyes, but something about it reminded me of my mom’s. I felt as though I were looking into Abigail Lawrence’s haunted eyes, full of longing and sorrow.

  A drop of dew clung to the stamen like a single tear about to fall. I watched in fascinated horror as moisture gathered and tears rolled down the petals, darkening and turning crimson. Blood spilled across the pale petals onto the floor. I dropped the orchid and jumped back as pottery sprayed me.

  My fragile hold on hope shattered onto the bathroom floor along with the pot. I had used magic to undo the damage of my clumsiness and now the flower was broken again, this time in a splattering of blood.

  There was no doubt about it now. This was an omen.

  The Raven Queen was taunting me. Panic made my chest tight as I thought of her leering face. I remembered what she had done to Derrick and prayed she wasn’t torturing Abigail Lawrence.

  If she wasn’t hurting her yet, she would be soon.

  Thatch had said I needed to wait and build up my skills before rescuing my fairy godmother. He had made me promise I wouldn’t do anything rash. He was teaching me protective magic so that we could go together without the Raven Queen hurting me. But I couldn’t keep waiting. I needed to help my mom. She would have done anything to save me.

  I now knew I couldn’t keep that promise to him. I was done waiting. Mom needed me.

  Of course, he wasn’t the only one I had made promises to. I had told Maddy I would help her with her situation. If I left and died, I wouldn’t be able to solve her infertility problem. She would suffer the fate she feared. I needed to help Balthasar graduate. All my students needed me.

  That meant I couldn’t die. I couldn’t allow myself to be captured. I would go to the Raven Queen and strike a deal with her. I would promise her that I would finish my mother’s experiments with the Fae Fertility Paradox. If that was what I had to give her to get my fairy godmother back, I would do it.

  Of course, if I did that, she would probably create an army of Red affinities to destroy all her enemies and enslave Witchkin. She would murder me after she had my secrets.

  Maybe there was a better solution I wasn’t seeing yet.

  I removed the quilted bag my mom had made for me from my wardrobe. I only owned a few items that would be of use against the Raven Court. One was the unicorn horn that Bart had bequeathed to me upon his death. In a pocket I packed my cell phone, iPod, and finding no other electronic devices, I slipped my vibrator in as well. Fae didn’t do well with electronics. I would use whatever I could as a weapon against the Raven Court.

  At the bottom of my wardrobe, almost hidden by my shoes were a few items of junk food. I packed those as well. Fae were always trying to get Morties and Witchkin to eat their hexed food. Wasn’t it time a Witchkin returned the favor and made them eat non-organic, GMO food filled with artificial colors and preservatives that would make them sick?

  My mom’s affinity worked best when she was near plants, so I would need to collect something from the greenhouse for her. A set of extra clothes were a good i
dea too. I removed a set of practical clothes from my dresser: jeans, a short dress, and a warm sweater on top. If I changed and Thatch saw me in outdoor clothes, he would ask why I wasn’t wearing striped leggings for once, and I’d need to come up with an excuse. It was probably a good idea to change later.

  A tingling sensation like a fish hook stuck under my rib cage tugged at my sternum. The more I readied myself and tried to formulate a plan, the stronger the sensation grew of magic pulling at me grew. Lucifer watched me with curiosity from the door of the bathroom.

  I still needed to get the bag past Thatch. I could tell him it contained art supplies and store it in my classroom. If I waited until he’d fallen asleep, I could sneak upstairs. It would give me a head start. I didn’t know where the Raven Queen’s castle was located, but I was pretty sure if I went to Lachlan Falls unchaperoned at night, it wouldn’t take much to draw the attention of one of her spies. I could probably just shout up at the sky, “Raven Court, take me to your leader.”

  I didn’t doubt they would.

  That tingling under my sternum grew into a burning. It was like indigestion but pulling me toward something. Perhaps guiding me toward my goal. I slid the bag’s strap over my shoulder and headed toward the door. My legs felt heavy. With each step, I slowed. That burning in my chest was like the stabbing of a knife. I had difficulty drawing breath.

  I didn’t know what kind of magic was at work. I pushed myself forward, but it was agony to do so. The door felt a million miles away. I fell to my knees, panting in exertion. My chest throbbed too much to walk. I crawled. The fire radiating from my chest intensified. I collapsed onto the floor. The bag fell away. I grabbed the leg of Thatch’s dresser and pulled myself toward the door.

  Tears of pain and frustration blinded me, salty streaks dripping down my face. I needed to leave. I had to help my fairy godmother. Why was my body betraying me now?