Blooming Black: Rosewood Academy of Witches and Mages (Darkly Sweet Book 4)

by Juliann Whicker

  The goat clambered down from the porch roof and came towards me at a gallop, sparks flying from its hooves as it ran.

  A sharp whistle brought it to a sudden halt. It turned and trotted back to the porch. The sorcerer sat there, Sooth, his hair light red, eyes pale blue, nose red and peeling like he had a constant sunburn. He seemed my father’s age. He gestured to me. Ian kept his distance, managing to look bored and slightly irritated.

  “Welcome to my humble home. What can I do for you?”

  “Die,” I said pleasantly. I shot him. It didn’t hit him, naturally. He materialized on the other side of the porch, gazing towards the town with a slight frown.

  “I’m disappointed. All your innate talent, your power, and you shoot me? That’s a conventional Dayside firearm. What is that going to do against a sorcerer?”

  I shot him again. He materialized in a different position, on the steps. “I just like watching magic tricks. Do another one.” I shot him again, and this time when he materialized, the spell I’d already prepared exploded, tying him down to one place, one form, the original figure in the chair.

  He blinked at me, eyes wide for a split second before he smiled. “Very pretty. You’ve made it so that I can’t run. I’ll have to fight you. I’d rather not. I like watching your magic tricks. They’re very pretty.”

  I slashed him across the face, claws long and diamond sharp. His face was ribbons, white bone visible for a moment, blood exploding in the air before he pulled it back together.

  I paused because my chest ached, stung and burned, like Penny hurt.

  I stepped away from him. He cocked his head and smiled at me, his face still melting back together. He looked like a psychotic sorcerer for the first time in that moment, his features all distended and terrible.

  “You’re bound to the child. Do you like to hurt her as much as it would take to destroy me?”

  I took another step away from him. “How?”

  He snarled suddenly, lunging towards me. “She’s a carefully created aberration that belongs to me, body, soul, every particle of her is wrapped up in my magic. You can’t break her curse, mage.”

  His eyes glowed an unholy color, orangeish red while his nostrils flared. When his hand found my throat, I let him sink his curses into me, layers and layers that twisted around my soul, but they couldn’t catch hold of me. He didn’t have any toehold into my soul. If I’d married Penny, he would. As her father, in Darkside, he held the contract over her.

  He frowned, brows drawing together. “You didn’t marry her.”

  “No. I didn’t.” I wanted to reach into his chest and pull out his heart, but I took a finger instead. A pinkie. He roared in fury while I stepped Throughside, Ian coming out in my bedroom a step after me.

  Ian dropped the baby Necromancer on the couch and wiped his hands on the fine Italian wool jacket I had draped over the back of it. “That was boring.”

  “If I hurt him, it hurts her. I can’t do that.” I tossed the pinkie on the coffee table. “How long do you think I can go without touching her?”

  “She’s bound to you, I’d say a week? Two? More than that and it’ll start messing with your mind not to mention your body. So that’s her father? A Darkside sorcerer who thought it would be pleasant to create an aberration? Why would he do that? What could he benefit from it?”

  I poured myself a cup of tea with trembling fingers. My chest still ached. Penny still hurt from my attack. So her convulsing in the parking lot could have been something related to the sorcerer being harmed. I had to break that curse. There had to be a way. In the fairy tales a prince had to kiss the princess, but that didn’t work for mages and witches.

  “You need a curse master.” Ian held out a hand for a cup of tea. I poured him one and made a face.

  “Since when do you drink tea?”

  He shrugged. “Penny is an excellent mistress. An aberration, that’s a witch with mage energy, isn’t it?”

  I gritted my teeth. I shouldn’t have brought Ian. “If you ever breathe a word…”

  He waved his hand dismissively. “That explains so much about her. She really can take and give energy to mages. She can really love a mage, sleep with one, trust one. Odd. So she really does love you, in a sweet, charming, authentic way. Not in an obsessive, manipulative, controlling way. So all that time waiting for her Darkside to come out was a complete waste.”

  I swirled the golden contents while I thought of Pitch, black-eyed and heart-poundingly alien. “I wouldn’t say that. She did tie me to a tree.”

  “Really? You never mentioned it. So now that you aren’t going to marry her, are you set on Stoneburrow being the one, or will you let her marry a different mage, Lester, for instance?”

  I wanted to snarl at him for mentioning Penny and another mage’s name in the same sentence, but instead I sighed. “Stoneburrow is her best option.”

  “Won’t Pitch be jealous?”

  I sipped and focused on the orange flavor that mixed with something darker, licorice almost. “If she is, it will likely be of Zach, not Penny.” I shook my head. I had no idea what I was talking about. I still didn’t understand Pitch, or Sooth, how he could make Penny hurt when I hurt him, but I didn’t understand how to make an aberration, either. Was Sooth planning to sell Penny to the highest bidder? Was that his purpose in creating her? You could buy continents with an aberration. One like Penny, with that streak of Pitch black and no madness? No mage or sorcerer could resist that, being loved, the possibilities of loving, feeling, leaving madness behind and drowning in bliss. I could have had her. I still could.

  She ached. Still. I rubbed my chest, threw back my tea and headed out.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Bonding with Penny. She’s been practicing ballet without you. Apparently she’s still performing whether we’re married or not.”

  He stood up. “I’ll make a point of doing my best with her.”

  “Perhaps not quite that. We wouldn’t want her falling in love with another unavailable, heartless mage.”

  Chapter 30

  Witch

  My back ached and nausea swirled through me compounded by a headache that roared behind my temples. I should have gone to bed early instead of staying in the library until the wee hours, but there was too much I didn’t understand about the basic structure of contracts. I felt like if I could get a grasp on it, I could understand my grandmama, and maybe even the natural laws that governed mages like Drake.

  Lester walked with me, but halfway there, he said, “I forgot something at the library,” and turned around, hurrying away. I stared after him for a second before I shrugged and continued down the pillared hall, arms full of books that had wanted to come home with me. It was only a few steps later when Drake’s hand came around me, his bare chest against my bare back and shoulder, my lower back against his stomach, skin to skin. Something about what happened to my clothes should have passed through my mind, but the relief was so great that all I could do was sob once and sag against him. His arm didn’t touch my stomach. There was no contact other than my back and his chest. It didn’t matter.

  For an indeterminate amount of time we stayed like that until he finally murmured, “We’ll have to do something about the bond. I can’t go around accosting you any time my chest gets itchy. Think about what mage you’d like to own you. Zach may be the simplest solution, but I wouldn’t want to put all my eggs in one basket. Let me know.” He stepped back, the shock of cold air on my bare skin only for a moment before my jacket was back. I didn’t turn around. I couldn’t try to see him, to follow him. I literally couldn’t. I sank down to the floor and put my face on the pile of books. It hurt worse now than it had before. That was the old pain from my accident, this was the kind fed by my brain and it’s cycle of, ‘I love him, he loves me, why doesn’t he love me?’

  “Penny, did you fall?”

  Lester. What did he want? I raised my head and looked up at him, so far away stretching up and up and up.


  “I fell. Deeply, desperately, and I don’t think I’ll ever recover. Is there some way to regrow broken hearts?”

  He smiled, a seductive smile that didn’t go with his soft voice. “The spell is called time. Can I help you up?”

  I’m not sure what was wrong with me, but I put up my arms like I was a toddler who had fallen down and needed to be carried. Lester picked me up in his large arms, his scent pine and old books, or maybe that was the old books in my lap. I rested my head on his shoulder and ached for Drake with an intensity that shook my soul apart.

  Lester carried me to Lilac Stories, but left me at the door, giving me a nod while he wiped his palms on his pants like they were sweaty, or contaminated with witch.

  I went inside and there was Zach, playing video games, loudly yelling at the screen for no reason I could see because he was killing it. I went over and put my chin on the top of his head.

  “Why did you carve into my hip, anyway?”

  He yelled and threw the controller on the table before he turned sideways and pulled me down on top of him. I didn’t beat him black and blue, I just shifted until I was beside him. I grabbed his wrist while my hip pressed against his.

  “Two player game. Don’t grab me like that or I’ll break your face. You look better like that, Peter Pants.”

  He snorted and ruffled my hair before handing me a controller. “You can see me without my glamour any time. Don’t call me Peter Pants, though. You’re too big to be my Tinker Bell.”

  I elbowed him. “Lost Boy.” I focused on playing, but my heart hurt so much, I finally got up, dropping the controller as I headed to bed. Zach snagged my wrist, holding me back.

  His eyes were electric blue. “You should be careful with Lester.”

  “You think that he’ll rip my protection spell apart twice?”

  His lips curled. “I think that you would enjoy ripping him apart.”

  I cocked my head as I studied him. That’s what Ian said to me about Zach, that I might hurt him. “Of course. I’ll take very good care of all the delicate, innocent, sweet mages who couldn’t possibly take care of themselves. You are all so loyal to each other.” I twisted my wrist out of his grip and shook my head. “Good night Zach.”

  I couldn’t sleep. Everything reminded me of Drake, even Señor Mort when he nipped my chin. How could I possibly cope without him? I couldn’t if he interrupted my intentional distraction to press his chest against my back. I shivered and buried my face into my pillow from the strength of the memory. I could still feel his skin against mine. I shoved the blanket back and got up. I got out hurter ingredients, but I ended up lighting my shelf on fire and having to cover it in silvery pink powder.

  I pulled on my grandmama’s lace robe and abandoned my bedroom. It was three or four in the morning and the halls were dark and quiet. I found myself in the hall to Drake’s room. I skimmed the wall with my fingers as I walked towards his door, skating closer and closer until my hand hovered over his door handle. I pressed my fingertips to the door while I struggled with the ache, the need, the obsession. I let my forehead rest against his door and inhaled deeply, searching for Drake’s scent, but I didn’t smell Drake. Instead, I smelled other witches, countless females who had been drawn to his door. Had he let them in and smiled at them charmingly until he was bored with them and tossed them away?

  I stepped away from the door, one step at a time until I turned and fled. I should have gone back to my room, but instead I went to the parking garage, picked the lock to his Green soccer mom car, and slid into the backseat. I curled up on the floor, smelling muddy boots, scratchy rug against my cheek until I finally fell asleep.

  An eternity passed like that.

  After class one day during my ballet practice with Ian, after three hours he said, “Good work. Same time tomorrow?”

  I shook my head. “I’m not finished yet. I need to get that turn leap thing.”

  “Pirouette Jete,” he said with a golden smile that made me feel uncomfortable. He’d managed to be less charming, more matter-of-fact. He slipped back into that persona and I didn’t mind his hands pulling my shoulders back and lifting my wrist so it was the perfect angle.

  “It’s all about the line, Penny Lane. You’re drawing lines in the air as you move. It’s a matter of Geometry and Physics. Of course there is also Chemistry, but not the kind you’re so very adept at.”

  He glanced at me sideways with the slightest hint of a smile. Why was I so suspicious of his smiles? I wasn’t going to fall in love with Ian or any other mage. My heart firmly belonged to Drake. I stopped dancing, standing there frozen while a wave of relief washed over me. The worst had happened. I didn’t need to be afraid anymore. I smiled at Ian and walked towards him like I was supposed to, chin up, head tilted, a beautiful garden goddess who owned the stage. He smiled back at me.

  “I retract my statement. You have excellent chemistry with an audience of any kind, Penny Lane.”

  I laughed and spun, leaping with my arms flung backwards like some kind of flamingo, but maybe the pretty kind.

  I would never fall in love again. I smiled at the people I passed, giving out lollipops randomly. Maybe it wasn’t hope that I’d feel better, but hope that it wouldn’t get any worse. After studying for hours in the library, I walked back with Lester and then spent an hour not sleeping before I grabbed my robe and a pillow and blanket that time to take with me to Drake’s car. I slept so well, I completely missed my first three classes.

  Zach watched me. On Tuesday, he leaned against the wall in the studio while I danced with Ian and afterwards, he fell in beside me, grabbing my bag and putting it over his shoulder.

  “So, after the hospital thing, do you want to go to the same bar, or somewhere else?”

  I winced. “No. I’m not getting drunk, Zach. Me drunk is a bad idea.”

  He slung his arm over my shoulder. “It’ll be fun. That’s what you need. All this serious studying, dancing, work, work, work, isn’t healthy, Penny Lane.”

  I pushed his arm off me. “Are you kidding? Of course it’s healthy. Work is the best thing for depression. Darkly Sweet is the only thing that kept me moderately sane after Poppy…” I shook my head. “Work is what I need.”

  “Fine. Work with me on my car, or the tech suit. I’ll order pizza.”

  I stopped walking. Drake had ordered me pizza on Pisa day, or something. For a moment I covered my shoulder with my hand, feeling his presence there as though he were right behind me.

  Zach nudged me hard from the side. “No? Chinese then.”

  I shook my head. Chinese food was always part of our Tuesday. We didn’t have our Tuesday anymore, no Drake, no Chinese food, no fortune cookies, no separate booths. I sighed. “I’m not hungry.”

  “Don’t be an idiot. We’ll eat at the bar. They have sandwiches. And peanuts. Or there’s a Mexican Indian place, it’s terrible, had to pick glass out of my curry burrito last time. You’d love it.”

  I smiled slightly. “It does sound fun. Maybe another time. I was going to hang out with Missy for a long time. I thought we’d watch Telenovelas. Maybe have a sleep over.”

  He frowned. “You want me to sit in the parking lot all night?”

  “No. I want you to go play video games and zone out like you always do. I’ll take the bus down.”

  “You go do the cancer kids thing while I pick up Mexican/Indian, and you can eat it with Missy before you do telenovelas. I’ll go to the pool hall without you. You’re missing out. All those broken chairs, peanut shells on the floor, pool cues, but if you’d rather watch a Telenovela with some human girl, fine, whatever.”

  He drove me in the monstrous beater we really should do something about. The backseat wasn’t bad.

  When we got to the hospital, the little princesses were so glad to see me. I was happy to see that another one had been discharged, sad that a new girl stared at me from behind the table, nervous.

  I smiled and knelt on the floor, telling a story about h
appily ever after with my handsome prince. My chest ached, but slightly less when they climbed over me, tugging on my hair, tying ribbons, pieces of string and paper in it.

  When I went down the hall to see Missy, there were guards at the door, mages. I hesitated before I walked up to the man wearing reflective sunglasses at night in a hospital.

  “Excuse me, what’s going on?”

  He stared at me for a moment before he pulled out his phone and murmured something about a nosy witch before he gave a brief description of me. He embellished it, adding that the tall witch had yellow hair, no red, goldenish red that maybe looked like molten gold. Apparently my hair color was an issue. He finally put the phone down and frowned at me.

  “You can’t go in today. There’s a temporary guest who is extremely dangerous.”

  “Wait, this guest is with Missy?”

  He stared at me like a stone statue. I walked past him but he grabbed my arm, mage hands unyielding iron. Should I break that grip, break him?

  “Let go of the witch.” Drake’s voice was so sweet, so beautiful and melodious, the entire world sang a chorus along with him.

  I turned to look at him. I’d avoided it for a thousand years. He was more beautiful than I remembered. How was that possible? He was more alive, more burning, more dark and rippling, like I could see all of his billions of molecules rushing through his skin and nerves flickering like fire or water, maybe both at the same time.

  “I’m sorry,” the man said, letting go of me and bowing at Drake at the same time. Drake didn’t look at the man but kept staring at me, like he’d never seen me before. Had he forgotten what I looked like?

  He walked towards me and reached out, brushing my hair. His hand came away with a strip of crinkled up neon paper. “What are you doing here?” The question was gentle, his eyes were not.