That sounded like a Felix Thatch thing to say. His bossiness didn’t make me angry as it once had. It didn’t make me anything.
Numbness embraced me as I used the lesson he’d taught me. I felt so distant from myself and all my worries. Those silly things we’d argued about were so far away and meaningless. I drifted higher. I felt like a kite on a string, the tether to my body so tight and brittle it might snap at any moment.
“Please come back.” Anguish crumpled his face.
The ache in his soul kept getting wider, releasing a tide of old hurts that had never healed. I wanted to feel bad, but I wasn’t capable of empathy outside my body any longer.
He kissed my face. “My heart won’t survive if you die again. Please, Clarissa.” His lips trembled against mine. “I love you.”
In the weeks we’d been together, he had tried to get me to break up with him. The single time he’d told me he loved me was at the staff party when he’d confessed his feelings. It had taken me dying for him to admit that again? I wanted to chide him.
Air escaped in a hiss from my lips. With that last breath, the string holding me to my body snapped.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Who Needs a Resurrection Stone?
I drifted above Felix Thatch. An avalanche of memories exploded inside me all at once. Maybe it was the neurons in my brain firing as I died, resurrecting old memories I didn’t know I had. Perhaps it was my soul, unfettered by the restraints of a body, fully able to see my life clearly. It wasn’t exactly the same as my life flashing before my eyes, but it was something close.
I recalled times with Derrick teaching me magic tricks. I remembered playing with Missy as a child, my big sister so perfect and kind to me. Memories of gardening out in the yard with my fairy godmother before I’d been old enough to talk, but old enough to hold a trowel and dig, drifted to the surface of my mind.
Sprinkled throughout my memories I saw Thatch’s face, brooding, watching from a distance. He stood away off in a park, observing me play on a swing set as my dad pushed Missy and my mom pushed me. During second grade when Mrs. Pond got the flu, Thatch had been the substitute. When I’d been a teenager eating at the food court of the shopping mall with friends, he’d sat in a shadowy corner writing in his journal, observing.
He’d always been there, lingering, feigning distance and disinterest. His presence attested to his investment, his sense of duty. He had always cared. He had tried to protect me with wards and to keep me from harm—though I had never known it.
I saw the past and the present at the same time.
“Forgive me,” Thatch said. “I should have done more. I should have given you a greater reason to stay on this plane of existence.”
I drifted away from my body, watching impassively as Thatch pressed his palm to my chest, his lips pressing again to mine. A flash of lightning surged into my heart. Pain exploded under my sternum, causing every nerve to rebel. My back arched involuntarily. My awareness whipped back into my body.
But only for a second.
This house of pain was not somewhere I wanted to dwell long. I recoiled, pausing momentarily as Thatch kissed me.
“Trust me to make this better for you,” he said against my lips. “Let me bring you back, and I will prove why this world still needs you. How much I need you.”
The lance of fire in my chest subsided as pleasure washed over me. He stroked my hair and massaged his fingers into my scalp. He snuggled me closer and traced his lips along my neck. The sensation was so nice, I lingered in my skin. I trusted him to solve this problem.
His mouth tickled against my flesh. Through the ringing of my ears, it took a moment to realize he was speaking. The words sounded like Gaelic. They tasted green like fresh shoots in early spring. They sounded like water and danced with starlight, singing ballads to each other. When I blinked, my vision was clear and unwavering. A grid of interwoven lines circled me, glowing green and then red. Slowly the lines contracted, sinking into me. They tingled into my flesh and encased my affinity. They were wards, embracing me like a lover, anchoring my soul to my body.
Never had I seen Thatch smile so wide.
“Sorry,” I said. “I think I got a little carried away. I guess it’s good I’m not the only person at this school who uses the forbidden art of CPR.”
He smoothed my hair away from my face. I kept staring into his eyes, anchored to my body by his touch.
He helped me to my feet. My chest ached as though I’d strained a muscle. I didn’t feel dizzy, only hungry. I pointed a finger at the cafeteria. “Do you think there are any drumsticks left?”
“No,” he said firmly.
I considered reaching out to determine if that was fear or anger in his voice, but I decided against it.
He reached around my back and lifted me into his arms. He strode away from the cafeteria. His stride was long and quick.
“Really? No dinner? I didn’t get lunch.”
“You’re as bad as Trevor. You’ll have to learn the meaning of delayed gratification in addition to some common sense.”
“What kind of gratification?” I hooked an arm around his neck and waggled my eyebrows.
“You wish.” He strode down the hallway toward the dungeon. He’d just reached the portrait of Alouette Loraline outside the stairwell to the dungeon when the first cafeteria door opened.
My gaze fixed on Alouette Loraline’s portrait. A flock of ravens filled the background. The green snakes that circled her arms were absent. I wondered what that meant.
Thatch glided past. He took the steps two at a time.
“Do you want me to tell you about how I killed Vega today and resurrected her with my magic?” I asked. I couldn’t wait to tell him how our supposed Fae problems had come to an end. I felt so much better knowing that note from the Princess of Lies and Truth was unconnected to Vega and her pranks.
At least, I thought it was.
“Not at the moment,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Are you mad at me?”
He readjusted his grip on me in his arms. “Of course I’m vexed. You almost died.”
“Not on purpose.” Too late I realized that was probably not the best thing to say. Those words always irritated him more than when I had purposefully controlled what I was doing.
Doors in his path flung open to admit him, thudding dramatically behind him. He didn’t even use his wand or chant any words. His will was a force to be reckoned with. If I hadn’t known how much he’d wanted me to not die only moments before, I would have suspected he was about to murder me.
In less than a minute we were at the door to his room. It flew open only to close and lock behind us. He deposited me onto his bed. “You aren’t ever allowed to do that again.”
“Astral projection?” I asked.
“Dying.” He drew in a breath. He was already red in the face. I had no doubt he would bluster endlessly about it.
All I could think about was what he had said as he’d tried to bring me back. For all his venom, I understood where his anger came from.
A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. “I came back, though. I trusted you just like you asked.”
He sighed, the anger deflating from him. He dropped to his knees and circled his arms around my legs, his face resting against my thigh. It was a strange and awkward position. I stroked his hair.
This silence was worse than him biting out measured rations of malice in each word.
He released my knees and circled his arms around my waist, scooting up closer to me. His fingers dug into my hips on the verge of being painful. The intensity of his eyes unnerved me.
“Are you sure you don’t want to hear about the necromancy? It wasn’t really necromancy, but that’s what Jackie Frost is telling everyone apparently.”
He drew in a shaking breath and kissed my thigh. “I ardently adore you. Words are too weak a medium to express all that I feel in my heart for yo
u.” He lifted his face, his eyes stormy and full of wonder.
“That’s a relief because it would really suck if you said, ‘I think you’re meh.’”
He planted a row of kisses up my belly, between my breasts, along my neck and into my hair. I hugged him tighter, savoring the rightness of his arms around me. He kissed me with such passion, my affinity went from zero to sixty in seconds. That kiss contained the kind of magic that could resurrect the dead. I trusted he did want the best for me.
I smoothed his hair out of his eyes. “For the record, Felix Thatch, I love you too.”
He took hold of the hem of my dress and tugged it off me. “Do you still want to gratify yourself, minus the delay?”
It took a second to realize he was teasing.
“Mr. Thatch, is that a joke? From you?” I asked with mock surprise.
“Me? Have a sense of humor, Miss Lawrence? Never.” He kissed me again, and in his lips he promised me his entire heart and soul.
THE END
Cackles and Cauldrons
BOOK TWELVE PREVIEW
CHAPTER ONE
Snuggle Buddies
I lay in a canopy bed, red velvet curtains letting in just enough candlelight to read by. Felix Thatch spooned up against my back. He swept a loose strand of pink hair out of my face and rested his chin in the crook of my neck. I turned a page of the book I’d propped up on a pillow.
As far as recuperation went after an out-of-body experience, this was pretty nice. Thatch had even said he loved me. We were only about seven pages into The Agony and the Ecstasy—a book that sounded exactly like something a dungeon master would read. I soon discovered it wasn’t a book by the Marquis de Sade or about torture; it was about the life of Michelangelo, which was far more my preference, being the art teacher at Womby’s School for Wayward Witches.
This was about the time I noticed a pattern in our reading. Thatch finished reading in half the time it took me to complete a page. I knew he was done again because he kissed a line down my neck and across my shoulder. He nibbled under the collar of the T-shirt he’d loaned me to wear as pajamas. He was precise in where he kissed me, skipping over the amulet I couldn’t remove, which Prince Elric of the Silver Court had given me.
Two stones still glowed with magic, signaling I had two favors left—if I wanted to use them and owe him a little more of my soul. As if I didn’t owe him enough already. My current bargain insinuated I owed him an heir—not something I was currently up for while in a relationship with another man.
Thatch bit my shoulder, the sensation just hard enough to make me gasp. I elbowed him, and he chuckled.
“Are you trying to distract me?” I asked.
“Not trying. Succeeding.” He spoke slowly, clearly enunciating each word with his crisp British accent. I could hear the smile in his voice without even seeing him.
I turned the page and held up the book to get a better view of page eight. He stopped kissing me long enough to read before diving back into the hot-pink mess of my hair. His breath was warm against my ear. I closed my eyes as he bit my earlobe.
“I’ll never finish this chapter, let alone this book at this rate,” I said.
“Resist temptation, Miss Lawrence,” he said in his serious-teacher tone. “Don’t allow physical distractions to lead you astray from—”
“What is this? A magic lesson?” I turned and tickled him in the ribs. “Let’s see how much you can resist physical distractions.”
He laughed and squirmed back. His voice was deep and resonant, the kind of melody that sank into me. It was a pleasant change to see a smile on his usually austere face. It brightened the gloom in his gray eyes and cast away the troubled frown I’d thought might be permanently set into the line of his mouth. Even in bed, his shoulder-length hair was rakishly styled, waves of midnight cascading behind him into the shadows of the canopy bed.
He was lean and beautiful, reminding me of a vampire with his pale skin, though I suspected his fair pallor was more from not leaving the dungeon enough, rather than from being undead and having a proclivity to imbibe blood.
He caught my wrists and pressed them against my sides. “No more tickling. It’s a new school rule.”
“Oh really? Should I confirm that one with Principal Khaba first? Should I check to see if I’m going to be given a detention if I tickle Mr. Thatch?”
The smile melted away on his face. “You know you can’t tell Khaba about us. You’re my subordinate, and it would be considered unprofessional.”
The dean of discipline serving as our temporary principal would be the last person I intended to share anything about our relationship with. Still, I couldn’t help a snarky reply. “Well, maybe we should change that school rule.”
“I wish it were so simple.” He looped his arms around my waist, his hug tight enough I couldn’t resume tickling him.
“Why can’t it be that simple? We’re both adults and teachers. Khaba is reasonable.” About most things. “I could talk to him. I bet he’ll just suggest Vega Bloodmire serves as my mentor instead. She owes me a favor from saving her life.” More like four favors. All things being considered, Vega was my last choice to supervise my magical education. It was bad enough having her as a roommate. I wanted to assume she wasn’t going to ever try to kill me again, but I didn’t know that for certain.
Even so, I was willing to risk it if I didn’t have to live in secrecy. I didn’t want to keep lying to my friends and pretending I hated Felix Thatch. If my best friend, Josie, found out, she would be hurt I had kept another secret from her. I wanted to be a good friend. Thatch and I had even compromised on this one. In a couple weeks I would be able to tell her. We needed to start planning our life together.
“I am quite aware of how well it went the last time Vega Bloodmire acted as your mentor,” Thatch said. “I will be in charge of your education from now on. And my decree as your mentor is that you aren’t going to bring more attention to yourself by asking to change the rules for yourself, which will lead to questions.” He said the last word like it tasted foul in his mouth.
“Yeah, because curiosity killed the cat. We can’t have anyone asking questions.” I tried to squirm back from him, wanting to see his expression.
He didn’t laugh at my attempt at a joke. “I do not trust Mr. Khaba.” His expression remained somber. “It was one thing for him to be a djinn tied to the school, his powers guided by strict rules to help keep him in check. Now that he is a free djinn, he is a demon.”
I balled up my fists at my sides. “He was a slave! Alouette Loraline bound him to the school, and he wasn’t free. Then Jeb used him for years and never paid him. That doesn’t make him a demon.”
He drew back. “No, Mr. Khaba has always been a demon. All that kept his Fae sensibilities and lack of morals in check was being bound. You saw what he did to the school when you set him free. Perhaps you forget that he tried to kill me. He would have killed you as well. He cannot be trusted.”
“He was grieving over his boyfriend’s death. All that suppressed magic went crazy in him when he was released from the bonds. He wanted revenge.” I understood that desire to explode with wickedness. I suspected I had seen it in myself at times.
“You are making excuses for him because he was your friend. Don’t mistake the person he was for what he is now. I told Jeb we should never have hired him back. Watch him. Notice the change in him. I don’t trust him. He could be in cahoots with any house of Fae, including the Raven Court.”
Dread settled in my stomach like a lead ice cube. “He wouldn’t do that.” At least, I didn’t think he would.
Thatch didn’t say it, but there was the Silver Court to consider as well. Elric was more likely to try to make a deal with Khaba to get rid of Thatch than the Raven Queen was. That way, I would more likely become his mistress and give him heirs. Hopefully I had found a way around that by solving the Fae Fertility Paradox. There was more than one way to skin a Fae c
ontract.
“Worst-case scenario is that I’m correct.” Thatch’s lips settled into a frown. “Best-case scenario is that I’m wrong. Mr. Khaba won’t report our relationship to the Raven Queen and inform her you are my weakness to be used against me.”
I wondered if that was what she had done to him with his sisters. He had tried to protect them, and he’d sold his soul to her in exchange for their safety. Half his soul.
His attempts to keep those he cared about safe had been wasted. The Raven Queen had permanently turned Priscilla into a bird, and she’d convinced Odette to join her flock and become one of her minions.
“Best-case scenario,” Thatch said. “Mr. Khaba has complete sovereignty over himself, and he has gained control of his magic. He isn’t evil; he only holds a grudge against me because he’s still convinced I had something to do with Derrick’s curse and Brogan’s demise.”
Goosebumps covered my bare arms. “But you did have something to do with Derrick’s death. You were the one who killed him.” I was the one who had resurrected him. I couldn’t meet his eyes when I thought about what I’d done and how it had all gone wrong.
“I didn’t kill him precisely. I permanently immobilized him with an enchantment that your magic disrupted. Additionally, I only did so because he was possessed by the Raven Queen, and he would have made another attempt on your life.” He smoothed his hands up and down my back and held me closer. “I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt him. I never wanted him to hurt you.” He tucked my head under his chin. “It’s almost time to go back. Let’s not argue.”
“Can’t I spend the night here? It’s a Saturday night. Teachers can stay out late.”
“Your absence will be noticed.”
“Vega completely took over my room with Elric. I have nowhere to go. Now that I know my affinity sets Josie off, I can’t stay in her room anymore.”
I didn’t want my best friend to turn into a giant arachnid and try to mate with me and eat me again. Nor did I know how long Vega would be pretending to be dead in her coffin as Elric and she did some role-playing to resurrect her. After I’d used astral projection to cure her, accidentally killed her, and then I had revived her, she’d been eager to spend alone-time with Prince Elric of the Silver Court. I liked the idea that she might have a happy ending with a Prince Charming. And not just because it would distract her from spying on me and getting revenge for having all the things that she didn’t. I wanted her to be with someone who cared about her.
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