A Handful of Hexes Page 10

  I had to think friendly, relaxing thoughts. Pronto. I could do this. It would be like the fear chair. Thatch told me I had to control my emotions and not give in to my fears. I had to ignore the sensations of the body.

  The hand yanking on my ponytail yanked harder. Hands clamped over my nose. I tried to twist away so I could breathe, but they wouldn’t let me.

  I visualized rainbows and unicorns. Bunnies skipped across the peaceful meadow of my happy place. The hands that had covered my face eased back. The death grip on my hair loosened.

  It was working!

  “Hello, nice to meet you,” I mumbled against the fingers of someone’s severed hand. With the many hands grasping my arms and legs, it was difficult to do much, but I managed to grasp onto another hand in each of mine and give them each a handshake.

  “Sorry to drop in unexpectedly like this. I probably gave you quite a shock. You probably don’t get a lot of visitors.”

  I didn’t expect the hands I shook to actually let go, but they did. They grabbed my palm again and gave it a shake before releasing me. The hands shifted up my arm and then underneath, nudging my arms lower. The fingers that wrapped around my right hand were bigger than the new ones that grabbed my left. I had the distinct impression another set of hands took mine and shook them, different hands from the ones I’d just shaken. They were taking turns?

  How … civilized.

  Maybe I did just need to project more friendliness. I fumbled blindly and realized I had grabbed a left hand. Awkward. I repositioned my grip, which it seemed amenable to.

  “Oh, sorry. How do you do? I’m Clarissa Lawrence. I’m a new teacher here. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  The hands under my back and legs hesitated in their tugging. One of them slipped under my shirt and started to slide under my pants.

  “Excuse me, but we’ve just met. I hardly think that’s appropriate.” I was given enough liberty with my right hand that I could pry those fingers from my underwear. I did so gently, knowing that if I acted with any roughness, they would duplicate that threefold. At least, that’s what Vega had told me.

  The hand didn’t persist. The way it gently squeezed my arm felt like an apology. This was amazing! They were listening.

  “Ahem. And whoever is holding on to my ponytail, would you mind easing up a bit? I’m not into the hair-pulling thing.” I gave a nervous laugh. Not that a mosh pit of hands needed to know about my personal life.

  “I am sorry about dropping in on you at such a late hour. If you don’t mind, I really should get going.”

  One of the hands patted my shoulder as if to say it was no problem.

  “By any chance, could you direct me to the exit? You see, I’m a staff member, and I’m on a mission.” I couldn’t help adding a pun. “It would be pretty handy if you could show me the door.”

  A single set of hands clapped slowly, echoing in the chamber. Even without words, the gesture communicated sarcasm well enough.

  The hands apparently weren’t done introducing themselves because they continued to shake hands with me. A pair of hands on my shoulders kneaded my aching muscles.

  “Oh, that’s nice. I could hand-le that.”

  More hands clapped at this pun.

  I couldn’t resist. I’d never had such a captive audience for my puntastic skills. “I got to hand it to you—”

  A finger pressed itself to my lips, silencing me.

  More hands massaged my back and aching muscles. Someone removed my shoes and massaged my feet. I couldn’t tell if it was someone or someone’s hands. I wasn’t sure if there were people attached to these hands or they were more like Thing from The Addams Family.

  The foot massage was heaven. Fingers gently kneaded my scalp. A long, satisfied moan escaped my lips. I tried to remember if my last massage had been from the guy whose electric car had stalled or the one who had been struck by lightning. Now that I understood my touch affinity was fueled by my body’s electrical impulses, those bursts of uncontrolled magic made sense.

  Fortunately, I had things under control these days.

  Thatch had seemed proud of me when I’d told him I hadn’t accidentally killed Julian. It had been on purpose. In self-defense. I could choose when I struck with lightning. I understood my affinity, and I wouldn’t allow it to overwhelm me and explode—unless I wanted it to.

  Thumbs circled the knots in my shoulders and down my back. Hands palpated over my behind, but not in a gropey creeper way. It was very professional, like a sports massage. No, it was better than a sports massage because the one time I’d gotten a professional massage, the therapist had found my torture spots and prodded them with zeal. The pain of that massage explained why I hadn’t blown anything up.

  I closed my eyes and relaxed into the bliss.

  Screw the mission to find the Ruby of Whatever. I was giving myself some pamper time. If only I’d brought massage oil.

  I was so relaxed, I hardly noticed as the hands wiggled my leggings off and unbuttoned my blouse. They unhooked my bra, but I didn’t mind. I only stiffened when they rolled me over and the naked flesh of my belly and breasts met warm hands. The hands continued finding tight muscles. The ones cupping my breasts and supporting me under my ribs remained motionless, more there to hold me up than anything else. I could identify at least a dozen of them resting under me like a table and more in between working at my muscles.

  Fingers pressed gentle circles around my forehead, cheeks, and chin. Sometimes people talked about falling asleep during a massage. I had never understood how someone could fall asleep with a stranger prodding at their muscles and torturing them while they were lying there half naked. I wouldn’t have been able to fall asleep during the sports massage.

  This was so relaxing I found myself wanting to doze off.

  Maybe I did doze off for a second. A little smack on my behind woke me as if to demand my attention. The drool on my cheek suggested I had. I wiped it away on the back of my arm.

  “Sorry about that. I swear, I usually don’t drool.” I laughed self-consciously. A dozen hands patted me on the back in a placating gesture that I suspected meant they understood. Hands shifted underneath me. One of the hands cupping my breasts brushed against my nipple.

  I bit my lip, trying to keep myself from crying out in pleasure. I didn’t want to give that hand the wrong idea. I had to control my emotions. Control my desires.

  My affinity flared inside me. I imagined that red light compressing and shrinking inside me.

  The hands turned me over. My skin tingled with delicious bliss where naked skin met my own. Thatch had said to be careful with my magic or else I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between my own desires and someone else’s. I was pretty certain this was all me but amplified by three.

  My massage continued, but the movement grew more slow and sensual. They didn’t grope or remove my underpants. Once in a while a set of hands reached from behind me and smoothed between my breasts, but it didn’t cross that line between a professional massage and a sexual one. A hand lifted my knee and massaged up my inner thigh, teasingly close to my bikini line before shifting down to my knee.

  I held my breath in anticipation. This pampering felt so good I didn’t want it to end. I wanted those hands higher.

  I’d read once that nine out of ten home massages end in intercourse. Or maybe it was six out of nine. I tried not to giggle. The statistic was probably made up.

  The hands on my thigh circled closer to my underwear and down my leg again. I wasn’t sure if this was out of polite restraint or they actually were teasing me. Fingers caressed across my collarbone, another set cupped my derriere, more skimmed over my thighs, a thumb on my ribs circled tantalizingly closer to my breasts before caressing downward.

  My insides tingled. I released a shuddering breath. I visualized my energies cooling and calming inside me.

  I was being seduced by a mosh pit full of hands. The idea of random
hands I couldn’t even see in the darkness didn’t sound alluring, but I found desire building in me. I wanted them to cross that line between a chaste massage and an intimate one. I placed my hands on the set on my ribs and raised them higher to cup my breasts. One of the ones under my derriere pinched me. I had the distinct feeling that was a show of approval.

  The hands continued massaging me with slow sensual strokes. I smoothed my hands over the hands cupping and kneading my breasts. One was large with calloused masculine fingers, the other slightly smaller and smoother. The idea of this much attention from multiple men—possibly women—aroused me further. Fingers circled around my nipples before sliding onward and allowing another set of hands to stimulate me. My panties felt wet.

  With the lightest of feather touches, fingers skimmed between my thighs and over my panties. There were so many incredible sensations all at once it was hard to focus on any one place. A finger traced over my jaw and lips, and I playfully bit it. In a joint effort, they slipped my panties off and ran their fingers over me. A finger dipped inside me, slippery and soft.

  I gasped as much at the way it felt as the way my affinity flared. The finger plunged inside me deeper. One circled the edge of my clit. I reveled in the way fingers were everywhere on my body.

  The tension inside my core rose. The throbbing built inside me. I found myself panting. The fingers on my breasts became more insistent, pinching and squeezing in a way that made me gasp in pleasure. The urgency inside me crested higher. My back arched involuntarily. An orgasm crashed through me, waves exploding inside me like a storm. It was a lot like what I’d experienced in the tattoo parlor only a month before with Thatch—except this might have been better.

  The pulsing ecstasy died away. I snuggled my face into warm, affectionate hands. They stroked my hair and my shoulders. I shivered and tugged hands and arms over myself to form a blanket. More complied and hugged me. I was relaxed and satiated.

  This was the best night of my life. I could handle an eternity of this, dying from too much pleasure. I closed my eyes and yawned, ready to fall asleep. But the hands had other ideas.

  They started up their caressing again. They didn’t stop at just one orgasm.

  “Miss Lawrence?” said a deep male voice that roused me from my sleep. “Merlin’s fucking balls.”

  I had to be dreaming of Thatch. That meant I had failed my lucid-dreaming exercises. Oh well. I was too tired to think about it.

  “What in the bloody hell are you doing in here?” His voice was too loud and grating to ignore.

  I rolled away from the noise. It was cold and my bed underneath me felt like a slab of ice. I blinked. A long rectangle of light shone on the wall, a man’s shadow stretched unnaturally tall across the stone.

  “Are you dead down there?” Thatch shouted.

  This didn’t feel like a dream. I flopped onto my back, desperately hoping for the sensation of a cozy mattress. Instead my shoulder blades met stone. Thatch stood in the open doorway above me, silhouetted in light.

  I sat up with a start, taking in the grungy stone walls around me. The hands were gone. I wrapped my arms around myself and curled into a ball to hide my nakedness. I squinted at the chamber around myself. A few feet away were my blouse and my shoes. I scooted on my butt toward them.

  “Why are you in the Pit of Lost Souls? And what did you do with the tortured souls?” His eyes narrowed. His gaze coolly raked over me.

  It was called the Pit of Lost Souls not the Pit of Horrors? No wonder I hadn’t found anything out about it in the card catalogue.

  Thatch tapped his foot in impatience.

  “No lost souls here.” Not even any lost hands. Heat crept up my neck at the memory of what I’d done with those hands. From my lack of clothes, I had a suspicion he must have known what had happened.

  I snatched up my top and covered myself the best I could. “Do you mind? I’m a little bit naked right now.” My skirt and leggings were on the other side of the twenty-foot chamber. My bright pink underwear were nowhere in sight. Somehow that didn’t surprise me.

  “I mind quite a bit.” He lifted his nose into the air.

  “What I mean is, I could use a little privacy here. I would like to get dressed.”

  “Indeed, you need to dress yourself. Immediately.” He looked me over with a disdainful glare. I hated how he managed to make it sound like an order.

  He slammed the door on me. I turned away and dressed, then groped around for my striped leggings in the dark and put those on. I used my new skills at Elementia magic to spark a flame in my palm so I could see and collect the rest of my clothes. I dressed but couldn’t get the fire magic to return afterward. I was still learning.

  I called up, “Hey, are you still there, Professor Snape? I can’t see.”

  The door opened again. “What did you just call me? Professor Snake?” He sounded indignant. “Just because your imagination conjured snake nightmares in the meditation chair, it has nothing to do with me.”

  I felt mildly guilty for the dig. He did have nice Professor Snape hair, and they both lived in the dungeon, but Thatch never wore black. Sometimes when I looked at him, I couldn’t figure out if he was more like Mr. Darcy—my dream man—or Slender Man—a bad-dream man.

  “How did you get in here?” Thatch asked.

  It was my turn for suspicion. “What are you doing here? How’d you know I would be here? Were you the one who pushed me? This was some kind of test?” If this was to challenge me to be resourceful and prove I was worthy of having him as a teacher, it seemed like he might have congratulated me.

  Instead, he took a sharp intake of breath. “I did no such thing. Why would you think I would purposely subject you to lost souls?”

  Then who had pushed me? Hailey? She was the only one who knew where I had intended to go.

  “How can I get out?”

  “Use your brain. Or at least your eyes.” He flicked his wrist at a set of stone stairs that led to a thin landing before the door. Duh.

  I scrambled up the stairs. Sconces lit the hallway. Thatch checked his pocket watch. I had no idea how long I’d been asleep or if it was day or night.

  “How long have I been here? Am I late for breakfast?”

  He snorted. “Breakfast? You released the hands of the damned from their enchantment, and you’re worried about food?”

  “Sorry.”

  His arm lashed out, and he grabbed onto mine. “How did you destroy the enchantment?”

  I shook him off. “I didn’t destroy anything.”

  “Don’t play games with me. The Pit of Lost Souls has existed for hundreds of years. No spell has ever lifted their curse. Only one person was ever able to command them. Can you guess who?”

  My shoulder sagged under the weight of my mother’s legacy. “Yes, I can guess. Alouette Loraline.” Who else did I have weird abilities in common with?

  I glanced over my shoulder at the room. On the other end of the chamber there was a heavy door. Where did that door lead? Thatch nudged me off the landing and slammed the door before I could get a better look. He glided across the hallway and up the stairs. I followed.

  “They’re going to say you’re just like your mother.” He drew out the words, overly enunciating in his snobby way as though I were a dim child. “Do you understand what you’ve done? Can you possibly comprehend the danger you’ve brought down on the school? On yourself?”

  That sounded ominous. “I didn’t mean to do anything bad. I was just trying to survive.”

  “You need to remember it isn’t just the school watching you. The Raven Queen has spies. She will hear about this. Your actions here draw the attention of Fae outside the school.”

  His words burrowed under my skin. If I attracted attention to myself and the Fae figured out what I was, it wouldn’t just be the Raven Queen who would want to snatch me and use me. I didn’t even understand what they would use me for. I had endangered myself and Imani. The rea
lization made my stomach churn with worry.

  Thatch pointed at me accusingly. “After all the trouble we go to in order to protect you with wards and chaperones, you get yourself in more trouble? Jeb will be livid.”

  It was bad enough I might be killed by Fae, but the idea of getting fired from my dream job was what jolted fear through me. I swallowed. “You don’t think he’ll fire me, do you?”

  “That would be the part you latched on to. Were you listening to anything I said?”

  “Yes.”

  “There’s a special place in the dungeon for mischief-makers like you.”

  The dungeon wasn’t so bad. I’d already found that out. Part of me felt embarrassed by how I’d stumbled upon that fact. Another part reveled in it.

  “So, you don’t think they’ll get rid of me?” I wouldn’t learn the magic I needed to protect myself if I got booted out. I’d never find out about my real mother and who she’d been.

  Who I was.

  I panted, trying to keep up with his long legs taking the stairs with ease. “I realize that probably didn’t look so great back there, what with my clothes being gone and all, but please don’t tell the admin on me. I’ll do anything for this job. Please.” I grabbed onto his sleeve.

  He wrenched his arm away. “I’ll think about it.” A calculating smile curled his lips upward. “For a price.”

  Ugh, why did everything have to come down to bargains with these people? I followed Thatch from the subdungeon level, to the hallway that led to his office.

  “What do you want me to do?” I asked.

  “Clean up what you started.”

  “Okay.” That was only fitting. If I had done something wrong, it made sense I would have to help clean it up.

  I jogged after Thatch into his office and out the door that led to the chamber of decorative torture equipment, through his classroom, and upstairs to the central hallway.

  I panted. “So, what exactly am I cleaning up?”

  “You’ll see.” That was kind of cryptic.

  Screams came from the great hall.

  “You asked how I knew you had been to the Pit of Lost Souls. This is how I knew.” Thatch opened the door under a stone archway of the great hall. Throughout the circular room, students ran and shouted amid chaos. A young man ran past me. A severed hand grabbed onto his collar as another beat him over the head with a loaf of bread. Floating hands at a nearby table threw food at the students. Teenagers tried to tackle the hands, but they weren’t handling the situation very well.