by Sarina Dorie
Vega arched an eyebrow upward. “Did you see through any interesting glamours?”
Henrietta fidgeted with her blanket. “Ms. Kazmere has a glamour on her face. She doesn’t actually have a pig nose.”
Vega snorted. She couldn’t imagine why anyone would give herself a pig nose on purpose. Yet Henrietta’s expression was earnest. Vega couldn’t tell whether this student was a convincing liar or telling the truth.
Henrietta ran a hand through her gold-streaked hair. “The librarian is older than she looks.” She swallowed. “And there are a lot of girls who change their appearance for cosmetic reasons, Demeter Winters included.”
“Which might be why she didn’t want you to have an amulet that you bragged could see through her façade of beauty.” Vega shook her head, uninterested in student gossip.
Everyone had their secrets and wanted to keep them hidden. Vega had her own heritage she didn’t want people to know about. Witchkin society rewarded those descended from the “right” kind of Fae and punished those from less favorable creatures.
Vega just had to figure out the murderer’s secret.
“I wasn’t bragging. I just . . . okay, so I’m new. I was trying to impress people.” Henrietta sighed, her shoulders sinking.
“Indeed. You’re new. So new to this school you apparently didn’t realize it was going to be a problem to attack a teacher.” Vega watched the girl’s expression.
Henrietta threw her hands up in exasperation. “I was mad at you for coming into class and talking down to Ms. Turtledove-Huritt just because she’s a sasquatch.”
Vega clucked her tongue. “I didn’t talk down to your teacher because she’s a sasquatch.” Vega had chastised Hazel because she was inept at classroom management . . . because she was a sasquatch. “In any case, that is no reason to murder a teacher.”
“I wasn’t trying to kill you. I just lost control. This happened at my last school too. My brother said I had to clean up my act or else there weren’t going to be any other schools that take me in.” Henrietta’s eyes filled with tears.
If what Henrietta was saying was true, and she hadn’t stored up and planned that spell, she was a truly powerful Elementia. She needed to learn to control the fire inside her before it controlled her.
“He’ll be so disappointed when he hears I messed up again.” Henrietta covered her face and cried.
Vega hated sob stories.
She tapped her lacquered nails against the table, thinking over the girl’s words. “Which is why I assume you gave false information on your papers so that the school wouldn’t be able to notify your family and be able to send you home.” Really, she was just delaying the inevitable.
“I didn’t lie. I gave them Nate’s address—He’s my brother.” She wiped her tears. “But he goes out of town a lot for his job. He repairs magic mirrors, crystal balls, and magical artifacts used for divination.”
“And your parents?”
She drew her knees to her chest and hid her face. “Dead.”
Vega hated that she was going to have to take time out of her busy schedule to verify whether this was true, but at some point she would need to.
Assuming Henrietta wasn’t telling tall tales, this was exactly the kind of student who needed Lady of the Lake School for Girls. Henrietta was powerful and needed to learn to control her affinity—and she had nowhere else to go. If a positive role model with powerful magic like Vega didn’t save her from herself, the Fae would snatch her, and they would enslave her. Or drain her.
Vega remembered her own difficulties during her teenage years. It had just taken one person’s kindness to help her through it all. She wanted to be like Mr. Reade and be the teacher who would help this girl.
But being nice wasn’t going to assist her in solving a murder.
Vega drew the notebook out from under her arm. “Do you recognize this?”
“I don’t know.” She wiped her tears on her sleeve. “I guess that could be Chastity’s book.”
“Sherry,” Vega corrected. “How do you know it’s hers?”
Henrietta served her a generous helping of teenage insolence with her haughty expression. “Duh. It’s burnt. Her cauldron exploded.”
Vega could see Henrietta didn’t know anything useful. Even so, she had to ask, “Did you see her or anyone else with this book in class prior to her death?”
“No. I don’t know. Maybe. I was more focused on my amulet.” Henrietta straightened her blankets around herself. “Demeter still has it. Mrs. Gordmayer won’t get it back for me because she thinks I was making it up.”
Vega stood. “If Demeter has it, I’ll find it.” Having an amulet to help someone see through glamours would be useful, especially when Malisha might be using one to conceal her whereabouts or what she was doing.
“You’ll get it back to me?” Henrietta’s eyes went wide.
“I didn’t say that.” If Vega did give it back, it would be after she put it to good use. She sauntered toward the door, pausing when she saw the backpack full of books leaned against the wall. A potions textbook and beginning-level alchemy poked out from the overflowing bag.
If Henrietta had Ms. Suarez for potions, that meant she didn’t have Malisha as a teacher—at least not for that subject. Vega tapped her foot in thought.
“Ms. Bane is your alchemy teacher?”
“Yes.”
“What did you do to piss her off?” Vega asked.
There had to be a reason Malisha had chosen Henrietta to use as a scapegoat.
“Nothing! I’ve only been in her class for a week.”
“No sassing? No pranks?” Vega placed a fist on her hip. “You didn’t try to murder her in class?”
“No!” Henrietta’s face flushed pink.
“Well, aren’t I lucky that you chose me to be the object of your malice? I take that as a compliment.” Vega grinned.
Henrietta shrank back. Vega didn’t blame her. She tended to look murderous when she smiled.
Vega had thought Malisha’s motivation in framing Henrietta could have been revenge for bad behavior in class. Now she was less certain. Could Malisha simply have been trying to deflect attention away from herself once she realized other teachers would remember the exploding cauldron spell? She wouldn’t have put it past Malisha.
Vega pointed to the homework. “If your brother hasn’t arrived tomorrow and you are here for in-house suspension, I recommend you put your time to good use and study for your classes. They can’t kick you out of a school if you haven’t committed a crime.”
After all, Vega hadn’t actually filled out that incident report. She could claim Hazel was mistaken.
Vega intended to prove this student innocent—assuming she was. More importantly, she intended to prove Malisha was guilty.
Henrietta’s lower lip trembled like she was going to cry again. “Why are you helping me?”
“I’m not.” Helping others was the kind of thing some goody-goody witch did who cared about everyone else—and got herself killed in the process. Vega was helping herself. “But I do know you didn’t kill Sherry Agarwal with your affinity—and most likely you didn’t use a potion either.”
“How do you know?” Hope alighted in Henrietta’s eyes.
“Because my ice spell left you weakened earlier. You wouldn’t have had the time or opportunity to recharge.” After examining the classroom, seeing the cauldron explosion in action, and finding the book, Vega also knew it was a potion that had done the work, not a surge of heat from an Elementia. Henrietta could have known a potion for creating heat and given it to Sherry—but it was unlikely a new student with too much fire magic really needed a spell to create a geyser of fire to fuel an already out-of-control affinity.
Vega locked Henrietta back in to the detention room.
She studied the notebook in the sanctuary of her classroom. Prince Charming sat on Vega’s desk in the corner, away from her lesson plans and gradebo
ok, nestled in slumber on a bed of leaves that Siobhan had brought for him.
It was definitely the same book. She flipped through the pages. She found the homework she had written for Jessica—her penmanship was nearly identical to what it had been nine years ago. She found Malisha’s handwriting next. Sandwiched between pages containing Jessica’s own writing were two other students’ writing that Vega had long ago identified as teenagers who had been blackmailed.
One slanted to the left and was nearly illegible, probably written by someone lefthanded. The next one contained overly large letters. Long ago, Vega had decided that the way this teen had dotted her i’s were a match for Charlotte Winters.
Turning another page, Vega came to the fifth student’s writing. It was cursive and full of loops.
There were several potions written in that handwriting. Vega hadn’t been able to figure out as a teenager whom it belonged to. The penmanship looked familiar, clearly something she had seen somewhere before. Vega kept staring, unable to put her finger on it.
She opened a drawer to her desk, scrounging through the box of items she’d confiscated from students. She found a PEZ dispenser not allowed on school property because it was imported from the Morty Realm and made from plastic—one of many substances that weakened Witchkin. Vega had overlooked the fact that it had been filled with charmed memory candies—also not allowed on school property. Most memory charms had side effects, particularly on minors, including stunted growth, but also hyperactivity and sleeplessness. At six foot one, Vega doubted she was risking her height by taking a memory pill—assuming that was actually what it was.
She tapped her wand against the PEZ dispenser and divined the use. After determining it would indeed increase her memory, she swallowed one tablet with a sip of cold coffee she’d left on her desk earlier. Hopefully Prince Charming hadn’t taken a bath in it when she hadn’t been present. The last thing she needed was salmonella in her mouth. It was a pragmatic reason for girls to avoid kissing frogs.
Vega resumed studying the book.
Five minutes later, Vega’s memory sharpened. As she gazed again at the unfamiliar handwriting, visions of the same penmanship flashed before her eyes. She saw a chalkboard with a potion sprawled across it. Vega remembered her own notebook from her days as a student with corrections written in the same hand. An inventory list for teachers’ supplies from the start of the year swam across Vega’s field of vision. More recently, a note on a teacher memo containing a message from another teacher addressed to her.
The name and date written on a library book of dangerous potions from the forbidden case in the library flashed before Vega’s eyes.
This was Ms. Suarez’s handwriting.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Hex Messages
Vega’s hands shook as she stared at the notebook from her past. The tremors had to be a side effect from the pill. She most certainly did not shake like a spooked lamb under any circumstances—even when she transformed into a lamb.
She leaned into the hard wooden seat behind her teacher desk, trying to make sense of this new information.
Malisha being a murderer Vega could understand, but Ms. Suarez was a respectable teacher. She was nice. There had to be a logical reason the potions teacher’s handwriting was in a dead girl’s book.
Such as, she happened to be a murderer.
But why? Jessica coerced and blackmailed students. She had thought she could blackmail Mr. Reade. Was that because she’d successfully blackmailed other teachers? What could Jessica have discovered about Ms. Suarez? A skilled teacher could simply use magic to shut a student up. Ms. Suarez could have cast a tongue-twister jinx on her as Vega had. Or something better.
Jessica had been a miserable excuse for a student, and a rotten Witchkin. Ms. Suarez might have hated her enough to get rid of her.
Then again, the final spell that had been Jessica’s undoing hadn’t been in Ms. Suarez’s handwriting. Vega’s own spell had been missing, replaced by a spell in Jessica’s handwriting. That death from student past was connected to the recent one with this spell. Ms. Suarez had been in the room both times.
But Malisha Bane had been a student at the school nine years ago and now taught in the classroom next door. She was a freakin’ potions teacher. She knew how to kill people with magic and had access to forbidden spells from the library. Jessica had known some dirt on her that no one else had. If Malisha knew Vega suspected her, what means would she go to in order to conceal her secrets?
Would she murder her too?
For the briefest moment, Vega considered calling on one of the Fae she could summon by using their true names—a trick that had worked successfully once before. But there was always a price when it came to asking a favor of a Fae. If Vega asked a djinn or a Fae prince to assist her, she would only do so if her life—or her secrets—depended on it.
She wasn’t that desperate yet.
A throaty croak startled Vega, and she nearly dropped the book. Prince Charming watched her from the confines of his magically constructed cage. She laughed out loud at her anxiety. She was being ridiculous.
She was more powerful and clever than that hack, Malisha Bane.
Vega didn’t know what to do with her new knowledge about the book and Ms. Suarez. She scanned the room to be certain she was alone. She couldn’t prove the deaths had been caused by either woman. All she had was conjecture. More investigating was necessary.
She locked the book in one of the drawers of her desk, using wards and boobytraps to ensure no one stole the evidence. She protected the book from every angle a student could reach into the desk, including from the floor. If someone broke inside, she was worthless as a magical-wards teacher.
Vega strode back to her teacher quarters minutes before teacher curfew began—not that she thought that rule applied to her. But she suspected Principal Gordmayer did, and after the earlier incidents in the day, Vega didn’t want to make the administration more suspicious of her.
Vega had ruled Henrietta out as the culprit. What Vega needed to do was figure out why anyone would have wanted Sherry Agarwal dead. She suspected she knew why other students would have wanted Jessica Argyle dead—namely that she was a conniving, lying, cheating, lazy witch. She’d had enemies. Vega more or less knew who they were—Malisha included.
In order to implicate her nemesis in that crime, Vega suspected she was going to need to solve this one. And possibly vice versa.
Her roommate was in bed when Vega arrived in her room. Vega glanced at Karen Kazmere’s piglike nose. She softened her gaze, using her Witchkin sight. There was a hint of glamour around her face, but Vega couldn’t see anything affecting her nose. As a powerful Celestor, Vega could see through most illusion spells. It was highly unlikely that some measly amulet could penetrate a glamour that Vega couldn’t even sense.
Karen would have had to be incredibly powerful to give herself a pig nose without a Celestor of Vega’s caliber being able to see through such an illusion. But Karen wasn’t especially skilled. She was a music teacher; it wasn’t like she was a wards, divination, or potions teacher.
Vega folded back the covers from her pillow, freezing when she saw the charred paper. Written with the same penmanship Vega recognized from nine years before was Jessica’s chicken-scratch handwriting.
The note said:
I’m watching you.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Back to the Past: Nine years Previous
Vega stared at the note in horror. She forgot she was in a dorm full of teenage girls that she might accidentally wake, incurring their wrath. All she could think about was Jessica. Was this a ghost haunting her? No, this had to be someone forging her writing.
With her wand as the only illumination in the room, everything beyond her bubble of light was cast in shadows. Vega’s attention remained on the note. On the paper, in what Vega remembered to be Jessica’s chicken-scratch handwriting, was one sentence written in ink.
I know what you did.
What did this person mean by that? Did someone know she’d snuck out, that she’d gone to Ms. Suarez’s classroom to retrieve the book, or that she had written the spell for the lesson right before Jessica had died?
If it was the latter, that hadn’t been the spell that had killed Jessica. Vega even had the evidence to prove it. The spell hadn’t been written with her penmanship. Vega didn’t know where her spell had gone, but it wasn’t the one in the book.
Unfortunately, the evidence in the book would also prove Vega was guilty of helping Jessica cheat.
Fabric rustled from somewhere in the darkness.
“Turn out that light!” another girl whispered from one of two dozen beds. Immediately Vega extinguished the light from her wand so she wouldn’t wake the entire dormitory.
Several girls tossed and turned in their beds. Vega couldn’t tell whether any of them had been the one to leave this note. It could have been left by the teacher who had confiscated her potions notebook, but a male teacher in the girls’ dormitory was forbidden except under extreme circumstances, like the time someone had accidentally flooded the toilet and Mr. Christis had been fetched because he had a water affinity.
Perhaps suspecting Vega of murder was considered an extreme circumstance. Yet, the person who had left the note had the same handwriting as Jessica. Was someone pretending to be Jessica to scare Vega? Or could Jessica have left that note earlier in the day before she’d died—a threat meant to make Vega squirm because Jessica had known about the pox spell and removed it so she could replace it with a “better” one.
The problem circled back to the first question. Who had given Jessica that spell?
Vega undressed in the darkness and slipped under the covers, pulling them over her head so that she could light her wand again to examine the book.
Could the person who had written the spell have understood what Vega had planned for Jessica? Vega decided that couldn’t be the case or else they might have permitted Jessica to suffer from the pox Vega had intended. Then again, this person’s motives might have been worse than a pox. It might not have simply been a potion to make Jessica look bad, but something to intentionally murder her.