Hedgewitchin' in the Kitchen Page 17

  It was hard to make my eyes focus on the man-shaped form behind him. He was little more than a translucent shadow, vague and blurred. I saw the figure better out of the corner of my eye, like the painting of Loraline in the hallway. He leaned closer to Thatch, whispering something in his ear. Thatch chanted. Light from his wand drifted into the man, making him stronger, greener, more whole.

  My heart pounded. Was Julian’s spirit controlling Thatch? Influencing him to give him magic and power? Or was his ghost conspiring with my teacher?

  The shadow solidified, green moss and lichen hanging off his body. His face was made of rotting wood. Ferns and grass sprouted from his hair. He unbent his curled spine, looming higher than Thatch at his full height. A centipede crawled out of his decaying mouth. He was as monstrous as the last time I’d seen him.

  I knew where this was going.

  Julian Thistledown’s voice came out as a raspy hiss, the sound of wood scraping against wood in a windstorm. “Miss me?”

  I screamed and tried to tear free of the chair, but I couldn’t. The vines tightened around my limbs. The thorns of the roses gouged into my flesh. My muscles shook with fatigue.

  Julian stepped forward, leisurely, drawing out each step. I screamed and continued to struggle.

  “You didn’t truly think you could kill me, did you?” The rotting skin of his face stretched into a hideous grin.

  He stroked my cheek with a hand made from the gnarled roots of trees. “This time there’s no escaping me.”

  “You’re dead. You’re a figment of my imagination. Go away.” He couldn’t be back. This wasn’t real. It was part of the fear magic my subconscious manifested in the chair, I told myself.

  I tried to take slow yoga breaths, but fear squeezed my chest like a vise, and I only managed shallow pants.

  “Miss Lawrence,” Thatch said. “Control your affinity. You are dangerously close to harming yourself with your magic.”

  “Help me. Please, don’t let him do this to me again.” Sobs bubbled out of me, making my words unintelligible.

  “Focus,” Thatch said. “Face your fears and conquer them.”

  Julian’s rough wooden fingers scraped against my face. Thorns dragged against my flesh, simultaneously biting and sensual. I hated how he had used magic to control me—my own magic.

  I tried to focus on my affinity, to soothe the red ball of energy roiling in my core. I needed to ignore my fears, to push away physical sensations.

  “Go ahead. Conquer your fears,” Julian whispered against my ear, his breath rancid and warm. “It won’t make any difference. I already have you.” His lips inched toward mine.

  I shook my head and leaned my face away from him.

  “No matter what you do or what you learn, no matter how strong you are, I will always have an advantage over you.” Julian grazed his lips against my neck. “I know your weakness. Even in death, I can make you want me.”

  “No, you can’t.”

  But it was true. As much as I hated him, my body responded to the magic. The tension in my muscles melted away. I relaxed against his mouth. I loathed him and loathed myself even more that I wasn’t stronger to resist this magic.

  My affinity flared and then shrank, as if unable to decide what it wanted to do. I didn’t want to be attracted to him. He was a monster. He’d intended to make me bear his children. But he understood my magic and how it worked. Touch might be my weakness, but it was also my strength.

  “I won’t let you control me!” I shouted.

  Instead of ignoring the vision and quelling the sensations making the magic inside me rise in an overwhelming tide, I embraced the crimson light crashing and sparking inside me. I pushed the Red affinity out through my arms and into him. The candles in the chandelier flickered out. Lightning flashed in the room. Ozone and charred flesh mingled in the air.

  I blinked. I was no longer sitting in the chair.

  Thatch stood back against the wall, his arms raised protectively in front of him, his wand glowing. He and his bird were on one side of a blue barrier that rippled like water. The raven’s wings flapped against the wire cage, frantic to flee. The papers on Thatch’s desk were scattered across the floor. Some of them were burned. His crystal ball was shattered. My sweater was under my feet, getting dirt on it. One of the sleeves was on his desk.

  He waved his wand in the air, and the barrier dissipated. His lips pressed into a line. I’d failed my lesson.

  My eyes burned, and I sniffled. “Do you have a tissue?” I dropped back into the chair in exhaustion.

  Every muscle in my body shook with fatigue. My wrists and ankles prickled where the thorns had raked my flesh in the vision. There was no blood.

  The shock of the magic must have numbed my senses. It was only when I hugged my arms to myself that the lance of pain on my palms drew my attention. My skin was blistered and burned, just like the last time I’d used my affinity to stop Julian. Now that I saw the wounds, my palms throbbed.

  Thatch untucked a handkerchief from his breast pocket and placed it on the desk in front of me. It was clean and white. “You know how to control your pain,” he said.

  I was too upset to meditate. I covered my face, embarrassed I was crying so uncontrollably in front of Thatch. The sting of the burns jolted through me every time I moved my hands. I couldn’t stop shaking. If he had been anyone else, I might have asked for a hug, but Thatch wasn’t exactly the warm teddy-bear type of person.

  Thatch busied himself in the closet, examining vials and jars until he returned to his desk with a ceramic canister he placed before me. He uncorked it, the familiar scent of lavender, echinacea, and calendula greeting my nose.

  I regained control of my breathing and blew my nose. Thatch didn’t offer to heal me.

  I scooted forward and dipped my fingers into the salve, applying it to my palms. As I did so, I visualized the pain drawing away into my core, the energy swirling with my own and cooling. I sent liquid ice to my palms, numbing the pain and soothing the inflammation.

  It took all my concentration to heal myself. There was no room in my head left for feeling sorry for myself or for thinking about Julian. I was one with my magic. The world melted away as I caressed my palms. Slowly the charred skin fell away, replaced by scabs. That was about as good as I could get it on my own.

  Thatch sat on the edge of his desk, waiting for me to finish. “What did you see?” he asked.

  “You knew, didn’t you? You knew I would see him.”

  He drummed his fingers against the wood. It took him a long time to answer, and when he did, his voice was low. “I didn’t know you would see Julian.”

  My heart quickened hearing his name. I forced myself to breathe slowly.

  “You won against Julian in real life,” Thatch said. “Why would you see him now?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, because I killed him, and now his ghost wants revenge.”

  The silence hung in the air between us. I wiped my nose on the handkerchief one more time before holding it out to him.

  He shook his head. “Keep it.”

  I picked up my sweater and shoved the handkerchief into the pocket.

  “The brownies will fix your sleeve if you leave it in your laundry,” he said.

  He went around his desk and stooped to pick up the papers from the floor. I left my chair, all too glad to be out of the proverbial hot seat and do something with my hands as I cleaned up the mess with him.

  I sniffled. “Why don’t you just use magic to clean this up?”

  “I don’t waste magic on something trivial I can do through an easier means. Magic has a cost.”

  I wondered what magic cost him and how his affinity worked.

  We cleaned in silence. My thoughts kept wandering back to the apparition of Julian.

  “Do you believe in ghosts?” I swallowed. “Do you think he could be here, watching us? That he might have been in the room today?”

 
“I’ve seen ghosts. I’ve felt them. There were no ghosts in here today. Julian Thistledown is dead. He isn’t going to hurt you again.” He offered me a small, stiff smile. It didn’t touch his eyes.

  “You don’t know that for sure, though.” I wanted him to say that I didn’t have to worry, and everything would be all right. It was what my fairy godmother would have said. Not that he was at all like her.

  “I do know,” he said. My hope burst as he went on. “But that doesn’t mean you aren’t in danger. He isn’t going to be the only one who will want to use you because of your affinity and what your magic can do. You need to control your powers so you can hide what you are and use them when you choose. If you don’t, you might accidentally kill someone.”

  I crouched to reach the papers under his desk. “Thanks for the pep talk. You could be a motivational speaker.”

  The problem with my affinity, a Red affinity as it was called, was that I was different from everyone else. Among the many types of forbidden magic categorized as Red, mine was fairly tame. My natural talents didn’t use blood magic or necromancy. I didn’t draw power from pain—though I was learning that from Thatch. My affinity was focused on touch. As I’d learned last semester, this could be dangerous if someone found out and used my magic against me. Theoretically, I could also heal with touch. And I could kill. By accident or with intention.

  “Tell me, why do you want to learn to control your powers?” Thatch asked.

  This felt like a trick question.

  “There are lots of reasons. I want to be a good teacher and help my students. I want to… .” Did I dare say it? Thatch had always denied anything and everything about Derrick before. “I want to help break Derrick’s curse.”

  His eyes softened. “How are you going to be able to do your job and protect your students and help other people if you can’t protect yourself?” He opened the top drawer of his desk. It didn’t scream like the one time I’d opened it. He handed me a paper. “In addition to the private lessons you’ll be undergoing with me, I have taken the liberty of drawing up a new schedule for you. It will start next week with the new semester.”

  Nervous excitement fluttered inside me. Was this really it? He was finally allowing me to study magic instead of just reading theory, studying Latin, and identifying herbs?

  “On A days during your prep fifth period, you will assist Professor Bluehorse in her sophomore herbalism class. We’ve decided you’ve earned the privilege of advancing beyond freshman level.”

  Grandmother Bluehorse was allowing me to advance beyond remedial herbalism? Score! Of course, that meant on the days I was teaching my odd classes, one, three, five, and seven, I would need to be doing my class preparations before and after school and during my other prep.

  Thatch skimmed the paper he’d written out for me. “On B days, you will assist Coach Kutchi during your prep second period, gaining experience working with magical animals and gaining a better understanding of active and physical magic.”

  I didn’t know what active or physical magic was, but I understood it would somehow relate to her physical education classes. Because I was now booked during all the even classes, two, four, six, and eight, it looked like I would be doing all the prep work before and after school.

  “Miss Kimura will continue to work with you after school to teach you simple spells and charms. All four teachers have given me books for each of their classes so you can familiarize yourself with what you will be doing.” He opened another drawer and withdrew a stack of books.

  So much for thinking I was done with my reading. He stacked four books onto the desk. Four books. Four teachers.

  “Who’s the fourth teacher?” I prayed it wasn’t Vega again.

  He cleared his throat. His hesitation caught me off guard.

  “You?” I asked eagerly. “Are you going to teach me alchemy?”

  “No. Potions, alchemy, and transmutations are still too advanced for you.” He gave a little cough. “I haven’t actually gotten your fourth teacher to agree to teach you. I’ve pulled the book from the library for what his freshman are studying.” He evaded my gaze.

  His? I waited in trepidation. Please be anyone but Pro Ro, I silently begged.

  “You will need to go to Darshan Rohiniraman and apologize for your behavior toward him. He still hasn’t forgiven you for tearing off his turban during that staff meeting and accusing him of having Alouette’s face underneath. Really, I don’t know where you get such ideas.”

  I took it he’d never read Harry Potter before.

  “One doesn’t take kindly to being accused of performing black magic. Darshan Rohiniraman is an excellent teacher, but it is still to be determined if he will take you on as a student.”

  “Why him?” I asked. “Isn’t there anyone else I can study with?”

  “There’s Vega, who would just as soon try to kill you as teach you if she thought it would make you stronger.” He dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. “No. Darshan is the best teacher for protective wards and defensive spells. He also teaches our divination studies. I believe you have inadvertently used divination in the past. You also have falsely presumed you have divined the future. It would do you some good to be able to tell the difference.” His sardonic smile said it all. He was specifically referring to my voodoo-doll dream with Pro Ro and my mother’s face under his turban that obviously hadn’t turned out to be true.

  Just when I thought there was a light at the end of the tunnel, Thatch had to ruin it by rubbing my face in my humiliation.

  “If he accepts your apology and agrees to teach you, on A days you will work with Darshan Rohiniraman during homeroom. He has students during that period, so you will mostly be assisting him with whatever he is helping students with.”

  I nodded. I was determined not to complain about my studies. This was what I had been wanting to learn. I’d known it would be hard. I just didn’t know it would also be difficult for my pride.

  “All these classes that I’m taking … will it help me become a skilled witch?” I asked. “How long do you think it will be before I can help people?” Again, I thought of Derrick.

  He swept shards of the broken plate and crystal ball out from under his desk with a broom. “Don’t concern yourself with other people. Focus on developing your magic safely.”

  I hadn’t seen a broom earlier, but he did tend to use magic. There weren’t any cookies in the debris. Did that mean he’d eaten them?

  “How were the cookies?” I asked.

  His lips twitched into an approximation of a smile. “Better than they looked.”

  I suspected that was as close to a smile as he would permit himself. Or a compliment.

  “Tomorrow,” he said. “We’ll practice again. If you want, you can bring more cookies.”

  Yes! I may have been a magical failure, I may have made teachers hate me and been on most Witchkin’s shit lists, but at least my cooking was up to snuff. If I could bribe Thatch with cookies, I could probably convince the rest of the staff of my good intentions as well. I would show them all I was the most unwicked witch of all time and learn everything I needed to break Derrick’s curse.

  Raspberry Cream Cheese Brownies

  Other berries and preserves also work just as well. Reduced-fat or low-fat cream cheese, and tofu cream cheese are also fine to substitute. This brownie batter can be used to replace the gluten-free batters of the Dirty Chai Brownies or the Earthquake Cake Brownies featured in the book. If one must, a store-bought box full of brownie mix full of ingredients contaminated with toxins, chemicals, plastics can also be used. Your choice.

  Cream Cheese Filling Ingredients

  • 1/3 cup sugar

  • 1/3 cup (3 ounces) cream cheese, softened

  • 2 tsp. all-purpose flour

  • ½ tsp. vanilla extract or other liquor flavor

  • 1 large egg white

  • 1 cup raspberry preserves (Divide in half and
set aside.)

  Brownie Batter Ingredients

  • ¾ cup all-purpose flour

  • ¼ tsp. baking powder

  • ¼ tsp. baking soda

  • 1/8 tsp. salt

  • 1 cup sugar

  • 2 eggs

  • 2/3 cup unsweetened cocoa

  • ¼ cup butter or stick margarine, melted or coconut oil

  • 1 Tbsp. water

  • 1 tsp. vanilla extract

  Directions

  1. Preheat oven to 350° F (180 ° C). Line an 8 x 8 inch baking pan with parchment paper or coat with cooking spray. Do not coat the sides of the pan.

  2. Beat the ingredients for the filling at medium speed in a mixer until well-blended, and set aside.

  3. To prepare the brownies, combine the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in a medium bowl.

  4. Combine sugar, butter, eggs and remaining ingredients, stirring well with a whisk or with an electric mixture. Add to the flour mixture, stirring just smooth.

  5. Pour two-thirds of the batter in the bottom of the prepared pan.

  6. Evenly spread the cheesecake filling over the batter. Spoon half the preserves over the filling.

  7. Add the remaining batter and preserves over filling. Swirl together using the tip of a knife to marble.

  8. Bake at 350° for 40 minutes or until a wooden toothpick inserted in center comes out almost clean. Cool on a wire rack.

  

  Kitchen Omens

  Two forks on a plate mean a wedding is soon to come. Accidentally crossing knives at the table predicts a long journey. Silverware dropped at the table predict the arrival of a visitor. A spoon represents a woman; a fork represents a man.

  A broom that falls over in front of a door foretells you will soon be going on a journey. In order to prevent misfortune, avoid stepping over the broom and pick it up quickly.

  Excerpt from Budget Cuts for the Dark Arts and Crafts

  All the magic that radiated off Gertrude Periwinkle. . . . Had it attracted Fae attention? In the distraction of the downpour, had I failed to notice any flocks of ravens? Were the wards on my mom’s house still strong enough?