by Sarina Dorie
Ghoul Problems
THE VEGA BLOODMIRE COZY WITCH MYSTERY
SERIES
BOOK 6
A Lady of the Lake School for Girls Cozy Mystery
SARINA DORIE
Copyright © 2021 Sarina Dorie
All rights reserved.
ISBN-13: 979-8590236558
WORKS BY SARINA DORIE
COLLECTIONS OF FUNNY SHORT STORIES
Fairies, Robots and Unicorns—Oh My!
Ghosts, Werewolves and Zombies—Oh My!
stand-alone Novels
Dawn of the Morning Star
Urban Changeling
The Chronicles of Dartania
Silent Moon
Fairy Godmother Mysteries
Wrath of the Tooth Fairy
The Memory Thief Series
Steamy Steampunk mysteries
The Memory Thief
The Geari Wife
Clockwork Memories
The Lost Memories of Meriwether Klark
Silkpunk and Steam
The Memory Keeper
Womby’s School for Wayward Witches SERIES
Cozy Witch Mysteries
Tardy Bells and Witches’ Spells
Hex-Ed
Witches Gone Wicked
A Handful of Hexes
Hexes and Exes
Reading, Writing and Necromancy
Budget Cuts for the Dark Arts and Crafts
My Crazy Hex-Boyfriend
Spell It Out for Me
Hex Crimes
Of Curse You Will
Cackles and Cauldrons
Hex and the City
Wedding Bells and Midnight Spells
Hex Appeal
Safe Hex
The Joy of Hex
Hedgewitchin’ in the Kitchen
The Trouble with Hedge witches SERIES
The Witch of Nightmares
A Cauldron Full of Curses
A Pocket Full of Poison
The Witch’s Familiar
SON OF A SUCCUBUS SERIES
A Familiar Magic
Curse of the Witching Hour
Magical Maladies for Beginners
The Physics of Souls
Incubus Charms
A Vial Full of Magic
A Devil of a Time
SON OF A FAE SERIES
A Court of Muses
A Court of Faerie
A Court of Nightmares
A Court of Ravens
A Court of Witchkin
A Court of Magic and Monsters
A Court of Shadows and Lies
The vega bloodmire
WICKED witch mystery series
Too Ghoul for School
Ghoulfriend
Ghouls Just Wanna Have Fun
Party Ghoul
Gone Ghoul
Ghoul Problems
The Hex Files With Felix Thatch
Paranormal Mystery series
Talented and Goblin
No Way in Spell
Other Titles to Be Announced at www.sarinadorie.com
Table of Contents
WORKS BY SARINA DORIE
AUTHOR’S NOTE
INTRODUCTION
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
A Preview of Tardy Bells and Witches' Spells
CHAPTER ONE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
AUTHOR’S NOTE
This book in the Vega Bloodmire Cozy Witch Mystery Series takes place before she works at Womby’s School for Wayward Witches. This is a great opportunity to be introduced to the Witchkin and Fae worlds of magic and mystery. If you are reading this book after finishing the Womby’s series, I’m guessing you have enjoyed the other books as well, and I appreciate your enthusiasm for the series.
If you are new and haven’t already signed up for my newsletter, I want to encourage you to do so. This helps me as an author connect to my readers, lets you know when books are being released, and gives me a way to gift you with free books and short stories.
You can find the newsletter sign-up on my website: sarinadorie.com or you can go to:
https://sarinadorie.com/newsletter-sign-up
Happy reading!
INTRODUCTION
A Letter from Vega Bloodmire
Dear Reader,
This is a story of my humble beginnings. Believe it or not, there was a time before I was a Merlin-class Celestor, a wicked teacher extraordinaire at Womby’s School for Wayward Witches, and Queen of Everything. There was a time when I was a new teacher at the academy I had attended as a student, the Lady of the Lake School for Girls.
As you can imagine, being the most brilliant teacher on staff wasn’t easy. It was always up to me to figure out who was behind the latest murder and save the day because no one else was willing to get her hands dirty doing what needed to be done. So out of the kindness of my heart, I performed heroic deeds on behalf of my community.
You’re welcome, world.
Yours,
Vega Bloodmire, Queen of Everything
CHAPTER ONE
Survival for Witches 101
Vega Bloodmire’s high heels tapped along the tile floor of the hallway toward her classroom, the rhythm of her feet the music of impending doom that signaled her arrival. Inside her classroom, the murmur of students quieted even before she stepped through the door.
“She’s coming,” someone whispered. “Everyone, be quiet.”
A smile of satisfaction curled Vega’s crimson lips upward. Her sixteen-year-old students at Lady of the Lake School for Girls were learning the important skill of survival. At one of the most elite and expensive academies for teenage Witchkin—those descended from a mix of Fae and mortals—Vega intended to give her class a proper education. If she succeeded, she would help them remain alive in a ruthless world of magic, navigate repressive social classes, and avoid dangerous creatures.
Dangerous creatures like her.
The protective warding skills she would teach them surpassed anything students would learn at a second-rate school like Womby’s School for Wayward Witches or Hannah Walsh’s Hedge Witch High. Vega was thankful that she’d gotten a position at the private academy she’d attended as a youth. Her teaching internship the previous year at the Encantado Charter Academy, a school for at-risk witches had gone far less smoothly than this year. It would be a low point in her life if she ever had to teach someplace as inferior as Womby’s.
By the time Vega sauntered through the door, the thirty juniors inside were silent. She wore her usual flapper-casual attire, knee-length skirt and low-waisted blouse hugging her slender frame. The light from the chandelier shone on her sleek black bob. She was the picture of perfection. Mary Freakin’ Poppins couldn’t have reigned over students as well as she did.
The bell rang, and Vega took attendance at her desk. A new student had magically appeared on her list, Siobhan MacDonough, though she hadn’t arrived yet to class. Transferring in midyear, she would probably be months behind their curriculum, and Vega would have to spend
hours of her own time catching her up.
Just as Vega had trained them to do, her students picked up their quills and began the warm-up exercise on the board. But the students stopped working as a clamor erupted from the classroom next door. One might have thought the stone walls would muffle the shouts of students better than they did. Vega’s class looked around and whispered.
“Silence. Back to work.” Vega’s tone left no room for argument.
“What’s going on in Ms. Turtledove’s classroom?” a teenage girl whispered.
The student had gotten the neighbor teacher’s name wrong. Not that Vega cared, but the sasquatch teacher’s name was Turtledove-Huritt.
Vega snapped her attendance book closed. “It is none of your concern.” The hint of a posh New England accent laced her tone, the elevated transatlantic dialect alluding to her upbringing in an upper-class district of the Unseen Realm.
Muffled voices rose in the room next to them. Vega sighed in exasperation. That damned furbag still didn’t have her class under control, even after months of teaching.
“Open your books to chapter twelve.” Vega paused when a howl erupted from the neighboring classroom. She smiled sweetly, thinking of all the things she intended to do to that amateur who called herself a teacher. “Read the chapter and answer the questions. If you pass any notes in class, talk to your classmates, or so much as think about doing anything other than studying, I will cut out your heart and serve it on a platter to the beast in the school dungeon that hungers for the organs of brainless teenagers.”
The students stared at her with trepidation in their wide eyes.
Vega left the classroom, confident no one would dare defy her. Stepping through the doorway of her neighbor’s classroom was like stepping into another world. Colorful posters with motivational quotes hung everywhere. It was as bright and jarring as the chaos of the students.
Ms. Turtledove-Huritt—or Hazel as the other staff called her—stood at the front of the classroom, shifting from foot to foot in agitation. The five-foot-eight furball swayed with her movement. For being a sasquatch, she was a runt. Even Vega was inches taller than she was. For some reason she had selected raspberry lipstick. It didn’t even match the warm sable of her fur.
Vega had always known Hazel was a fashion accident waiting to happen.
Someone threw an enchanted paper airplane and had the audacity to circle in near Vega. She snatched it out of the air and crushed the charm from the paper. Rowdy students had left their seats to talk to friends, not paying their teacher any mind. Two girls shoved each other in the corner, fighting over what appeared to be a note. The class was disorganized pandemonium.
Hazel ran her furry hands over her blouse, taking in the rowdy class with apprehension. “Excuse me. I need you to settle down.” She spoke too quietly to be overheard by the students yelling at each other. “Ahem. It’s time to get started.”
Vega watched with disdain. Sasquatches were the weakest Fae in the realm. All they knew was how to hide and camouflage themselves. They couldn’t fight. They couldn’t do battle magic. Most were too ignorant of magical law and contracts with Fae, too uneducated for the math involved in alchemy, potions, or astronomy to be able to protect themselves against stronger creatures—or teach others how to do so.
Teaching a class like History of Magic was about all sasquatches were good for. Yet for some reason Principal Gordmayer had seen fit to hire Hazel for a history class and herbalism.
Hazel pulled the fur back from her face in a nervous gesture. Sasquatch musk permeated the room, the scent green and earthy like the forest. It was almost enough to mask the stench of thirty sweaty teenagers, but not quite.
Vega pointed to Hazel. “What the hell is wrong with you? Control your students. Some of us have important subject matter to teach today.”
Hazel raked a hand over the sable fur of her face. “Ms. Bloodmire, please! No swearing in front of the students!”
From the way the students roared and laughed, ignoring her, it was unlikely they heard. Nor was that the extent of Vega’s capacity for profanities.
Hazel’s gaze darted from Vega to the teenagers, not so different from a frightened deer. Anyone who looked that pathetic had no reason to stand in front of a classroom full of hormonal, magically malicious teenagers who would smell that fear like wolves.
Obviously, the sasquatch teacher was too weak to deal with discipline directly. Vega would have to show her how it was done.
Her gaze shifted from Hazel to the thirty rowdy students, a lazy smile on her sultry lips. She sauntered forward to the nearest student desk, looming over a girl chatting to her friend. The teenager turned toward Vega, horror crossing her expression.
Claudia Wadsworth. Good. Vega had her in fifth period. Claudia knew what Vega expected of her.
She pointed a finger at Claudia. “Close your mouth and listen to Ms. Turtledove-Huritt, or I’ll hex it closed.”
The sophomore immediately shut up.
Vega untucked her wand from her belt and raised it into the air. Giant violet flames shot out of the tip, fuming and fizzing like a firework. The sizzle rapidly increased into the crescendo of a scream. Vega smiled in satisfaction as the scream drowned out the chaos of the students.
All eyes stared at Vega in a mixture of awe and horror. The screaming fireworks died. The tip of her wand smoked and sparked as she lowered it at the rows of students.
“The volume of this class infringes on the learning going on in my classroom,” she said. “If you don’t close your mouths and at least pretend to listen to Ms. Turtledove-Huritt, I’m going to take this wand, and I’ll shove it—”
“Whoa, Ms. Bloodmire, that’s enough of that.” Hazel chuckled uncomfortably. “We’re supposed to be good role models for—”
Vega held up a hand, stopping Hazel before she went on in that goody-goody way of hers. “Don’t lecture me.” She considered flicking a silencing charm at the other teacher—a charm so simple that even inept magic wielders like sasquatches should have been able to use it on students.
Hazel quieted of her own accord.
“Ahem.” Vega turned to the class. “As I was saying, if you don’t close your mouths and attempt some semblance of learning, I will take this wand and shove it into the ether between dimensions and open up a hole to suck your brainless bodies through. Do I make myself clear?” She scanned the crowd, daring them to defy her.
She turned her back on them, her heels clicking on the floor like a dirge. Hazel edged back. Her mouth moved, but no sound came out.
Even if Vega hadn’t possessed perfect hearing and picked up on the hiss of the muttered hex from the farthest corner of the classroom, she would have known one of the students was attempting to use magic. The candlelight in the chandelier above her dimmed, the hair on the back of her neck prickled, and Vega’s inner eye opened, sending a jolt of warning through her. Hazel shook her head and pointed.
As if Vega needed Hazel to help her.
Magic blazed in the air behind Vega, heading toward her. Those ungrateful little punks. This was what Vega was wasting the best years of her life doing—teaching the supposed cream-of-the-crop students? Vega sighed in disgust, considering for just a millisecond that she could allow the spell to strike her dead so she wouldn’t have to endure another hundred years of this. Witchkin did live long lives after all.
But no, this was not the way she would allow herself to die. She had become a teacher at this school so she could help students learn how to protect themselves against Fae. She was here to watch out for these inept students better than adults had looked out for her. And her sister. And the boy she had once loved. And so many friends who had died young.
Vega was here to make a difference, even if students were too ungrateful to realize it. Also, it didn’t hurt that as a teacher, Vega had access to the best books, which would come in handy for studying to earn her way up to the rank of a Merlin-class Celestor. She didn’t w
ant to throw that away.
The first thing Vega did was grind her heels into the floor, one of her little tricks for jolting energy out of the ground below, up her feet, and into the rest of her body. She was an ace at time-slowing spells by this point—so long as she had prepared in advance—which she had. Vega had spent hours constructing this spell for the occasion she might be in enough danger to activate it. She didn’t need to mutter the incantation. All she needed to do was tap into the essence of the spell and release it. She turned in real time, observing the student standing, her wand raised and aimed at Vega.
The girl was probably a freshman or a recent transfer student or Vega would have had her in class by now. She didn’t doubt it was impulsive actions like this that had gotten her kicked out of whatever school she’d previously been part of. The student’s face was contorted in rage, revealing gums and pointed teeth. The highlights in her golden hair, paired with the heat radiating off of her, suggested an affinity for the elements, most likely fire.
Vega sidestepped out of the way of the danger, observing the magic moving in slow motion. It wasn’t a bad hex. The magic was well-constructed, nearly invisible as a shadow, which either meant the girl had used this spell often and was well practiced, or she’d worked hard on it, saving it up for this moment. From the heat signature, Vega sensed the shadow was meant to create an inferno that would burn her badly enough that she would end up in the hospital wing for days drinking bat dung elixirs to heal the wounds. A spell like that could do some serious damage.
The kid had potential. Vega had to admire that. This was a girl who could be taught complex magic that could make a difference in the world. Morals might be a different problem, but Vega had never put much stock in virtue.
The hex was as black as space, sucking the light and heat from the chandelier. It lapped up the remnants of energy from Vega’s earlier fireworks. The room was left chilly, with all warmth being drawn into the hex. The spell consumed and repurposed the subtle energies from the fire affinities in the room, though Vega doubted anyone with skills inferior to her own would have noticed. The more Vega observed, the more certain she was that the student was an Elementia, an affinity related to the elements. She was either fueled by fire, light, or sunlight—but she wasn’t a very strong Elementia, which was why she was stealing it from everyone else around her. She probably didn’t even know she was draining others.