Reading, Writing and Necromancy Read online

Khaba inclined his head to her in apology. “He or she will remain unnamed until further questioning is possible.”

  I admired Khaba’s ability to add Derrick to the list without calling out it had been his security guard who had been attacked. This meant staff might assume it was the secretary, custodian, librarian, the brownies, or any of the other nonteaching staff.

  “Jeb and I have examined Sebastian Reade’s body. We can see he was drained, yes, but the Raven Court seldom leaves a body when they drain a victim. And when they only partially drain a victim or are interrupted and unable to finish, there are no markings on the body. The corpse’s capillaries had turned black, and his skin was almost transparent.”

  “His body was mummified.” Pinky stood. “What kind of Fae do that? Tell us, Mr. Khaba.”

  From the way he glared at Khaba, I suspected he meant djinn.

  Josie shook her head at Pinky, mouthing. “Dude, stop hating on Khaba.”

  Jeb adjusted his bolo tie. “Mr. Pinky, please sit. I realize you found Sebastian Reade, and that must have been more shockin’ than all get-out, but let me assure you, Mr. Khaba had nothin’ to do with it.”

  Pinky plopped down in the chair, the wood creaking ominously. “Maybe you should have some other teachers examine the body and see if they come to the same conclusions you do.”

  Vega raised her hand, sounding far too eager. “I can help examine the body.”

  Ick. She would say that. She would probably want to stuff him into the coffin under her bed and keep him around to play dress up.

  “Ahem.” Khaba’s cheeks flushed with heat. I’d never seen his confidence falter until this moment. “As I was … as I was saying, I don’t believe the draining originates from a Fae. I believe the perpetrator was Witchkin, either one of the students or another staff member. Whether this person was acting under the coercion or mesmerism of the Raven Court is currently unclear. It is also possible the incident is completely unrelated to the Raven Court’s presence in Lachlan Falls.”

  His conclusion that this was a Witchkin mesmerized by the Raven Court made me immediately think of Derrick. They’d already had their eye on him. What if they’d snatched him in Lachlan Falls and made him do this? But Derrick had been in no condition to attack anyone. And he’d specifically said Thatch’s name? Could Thatch be behind his attack and Sebastian Reade’s?

  Khaba went on. “The dehydration could have been caused by a secondary spell to disguise a piece of incriminating evidence or it could indicate a draining done by an individual with an affinity related to heat such as an Elementia, a jorogumo that uses venom to liquify and suck out a victim’s insides, a Bas Celik whose strength depends on water, a water Elementia such as a siren, or—”

  Josie gasped. Heads turned in Gertrude Periwinkle’s direction. The librarian lifted her nose in indignation.

  Jackie Frost shook her head, her spiky hair turning blue. “A heat Elementia would burn a body.”

  Pinky looked to Josie. “A Japanese jorogumo would have punctures and be puffy from the venom, wouldn’t it?”

  Josie shrugged. “Why are you asking me? I’m not an expert on every Japanese demon just because I’m Japanese, Mr. Pinky.”

  Thatch strode forward. “A siren did not cause Sebastian’s injuries.”

  I hadn’t even seen him slip into the room.

  “What about that girl with the rainbow affinity?” someone asked.

  I shook my head. I didn’t want Imani to get blamed for something she didn’t do again.

  “We have a student who is a siren and a staff member who is a siren. Have you questioned either of them?” Evita Lupi asked.

  I bet she would like Miss Periwinkle to be the culprit—it might cure her husband of drooling over the librarian.

  Miss Periwinkle’s eyes narrowed at Evita Lupi. “How about werewolves?”

  Our staff meeting descended into chaos. Students were being named: Hailey Achilles, Imani Washington, and Maddy Jennings among them. I knew none of those students would hurt someone.

  At least I didn’t think they would.

  Jeb raised his hands in a placating gesture. He spoke, but his voice was lost in the commotion. I looked to Josie. Her face was pale and scared, mirroring my own emotions. I tried not to look at Thatch and give my loathing away.

  “Do you think we should—” I started.

  I didn’t get any further. My voice stopped. All the voices in the room abruptly died away. My ears rang in the silence. Jeb stood, purple light emanating from his palms. White sparkles flickered above our heads before fading away.

  His voice thundered across the room. “This meetin’ ain’t over. While this matter is bein’ investigated, we got ourselves another pickle. Ahem. Mr. Puck.”

  Puck stood and stepped forward. His puff of blond hair was even more wild than usual. “Okay, guys, don’t shoot the messenger, but here it is: Sebastian Reade taught an elective, but the subject matter is essential for students for the spring exams. They need to know the basic grammar and pronunciation of foreign languages so they can pronounce spells correctly. The Latin helped students in Evita Lupi’s zoology and animal-magic classes and Grandmother Bluehorse’s herbalism and plant magic. The Gaelic, Fae dialects, Old English, and other languages were useful for Felix Thatch’s alchemy and potions and for Vega Bloodmire’s spells, charms, hexes, and wards classes.” He drew in a deep breath. “When situations come up and teachers need a substitute that often falls on Jeb, Khaba, and myself. Currently our principal is seeing to other duties off campus trying to raise funds, Khaba needs to focus on security and investigating Sebastian Reade’s death, and I’m still juggling schedule changes.”

  He allowed that to sink in.

  “Oh no,” Vega said with a moan.

  “So you’re asking us to fill in for the foreign language teacher?” Jackie Frost’s tone was as chilled as her Elementia affinity.

  Pinky raised his hand. “Would there be a pay increase with an added class?”

  Jeb stroked his beard. “Hadn’t thought of that yet. It ain’t our usual procedure to pay for short-term subbing. When the need arises, we all just pitch in and help. I reckon it depends on whether we fill the position with a permanent sub or not.”

  Pinky’s shoulders sagged.

  “Oh please, as if bigfoot can speak Latin,” Vega said.

  Pinky lifted his chin, throwing out a phrase in fluent Latin. Or at least it sounded Latin. It was beyond my beginning skill level. Vega said something back in a snotty tone, which he answered in a snooty tone of his own.

  He added in English, “Just because I’m a sasquatch and use a different magical system doesn’t mean I’m not educated in Witchkin studies. I can speak nine modern languages and six dead ones. Also, I’m proficient in three different sasquatch tongues of the North Americas. They’re closely tied to Native American dialects, so it would help students with those spells too.”

  Pinky knew a lot of languages. Maybe he could speak Middle High German. That could be helpful.

  “Nice!” Puck said, completely oblivious to the tension in the air. “Mr. Pinky, I’ll talk to you about Latin after the meeting. We need to fill Gaelic, Demon Tongues, Fae, and our Survey of Romance Languages Class. If someone has a different language skill they can share, even if it’s only temporarily, that would be fine too. The more exposure kids have to as many languages as possible, the better it is for them.” He looked to Josie. “You could even teach Chinese.”

  She said through clenched teeth, “I’m not Chinese, Mr. Puck. I’m Japanese. And I think the kids will have a pretty good handle on the language and culture from my Bushido elective.”

  The following ten minutes teachers argued about who would teach what. Everyone had some excuse they couldn’t teach a foreign language. Eventually it was decided Evita Lupi, Silas Lupi, Pro Ro, and Jackie Frost would each teach one language temporarily. Pinky gave up his preps, intending to teach two.

  The moment the
meeting adjourned, Pinky made his way over to Josie. “Hey Jo, I wanted to talk to you about jorogumo for a sec.”

  Thatch snagged my elbow. “A quick word with you, Miss Lawrence.”

  I shook my head, trying to think of some excuse that sounded plausible. “I have class.”

  “You’ll be late. Your students will wait.”

  Khaba stepped forward. “Pardon my intrusion, but I need to borrow Miss Lawrence for a moment.”

  Thatch glowered at him. “What I wish to speak with Miss Lawrence about cannot wait.”

  “As the school’s dean of discipline, I disagree.”

  Thatch crossed his arms, eyeing me menacingly. “I will find you later.”

  “Ooooh, someone’s in trouble,” Vega said.

  I had never felt so happy to be called into the disciplinarian’s office.

  Pinky lingered in a corner, speaking low to Josie. Her face was red, and it looked like she was holding her breath. She kept shaking her head. It wouldn’t surprise me if he was asking her about something Chinese, not Japanese.

  Khaba’s office wasn’t far. The moment Khaba closed the door, he asked, “Is Invismo any better? Has he said anything?”

  “Um,” I didn’t know if midnight sex counted as better. He’d seemed pretty exhausted afterward. “He hasn’t said much, except Thatch’s name that once, but he was pretty vague.”

  “I’ll check on him this morning during first-period homeroom.”

  “Can I be excused from my lunch duty to see how he is and bring him—”

  Khaba crossed his arms. “Nice try, but no. You are not skipping duties. You are going to act as though everything is normal until I speak with Derrick myself and have a better understanding about what is happening. I need to know if the perpetrator who killed Sebastian Reade also attacked Derrick and if it was Thatch.”

  Khaba escorted me to my classroom. I was glad he did. Khaba wouldn’t allow Thatch to make me break school rules and be late for my class.

  So much had happened in the last twenty-four hours, my brain was still having difficulty processing it all. I didn’t like how all the teachers had turned on each other during the first sign of trouble. It was a regular witch hunt in there. For the first time that I remembered, I hadn’t been the one who had been blamed.

  Only, I couldn’t believe anyone would blame Khaba. He did so much for the school.

  I worked to keep up with Khaba’s quick strides toward my class.

  I panted, out of breath. “Why was Pinky so … adamant you were at fault? You aren’t like other Fae, right?”

  “Not anymore, honey.” Khaba sighed. “I can’t blame him. Sasquatches are technically Fae themselves—just don’t say that to their faces. They’ve been oppressed more than any other subspecies, perhaps more than Witchkin. I’m technically Fae as well, but I serve my master, and my master is the school.”

  “So when that raven lady offered to free you… .”

  He snorted. “Even in my most opium-induced state, I wouldn’t buy that line. A free djinn has unlimited power. I was once more powerful than the Raven Queen herself. Djinn were the worst of Fae—demons—until the major houses worked to punish and condemn us to live a life of servitude for all eternity. Our service limits our magic to wishes. No djinn is free anymore. Nor would any Fae house ever wish to free us because our power would pose too great a threat.”

  “So you were once evil?” I asked.

  “I don’t talk about those days. What’s important is what I am now.” He hugged me around the shoulder. “And how good I look in these pants.”

  I indulged him with a smile. I had never known all this about my friend. Pinky’s accusations made more sense, even if they were unfounded.

  During first period, I sent a student with a note to Josie’s classroom, asking her if she would cover lunch so I could check on someone. I was careful not to say who. She would know. I wished I could tell her how peculiarly he’d acted the night before.

  Her note came back with a student a few minutes later.

  Again? How many lunches do I need to cover for you? I don’t want to be like Vega and tell you that you owe me for this, but you do. You’re going to have to paint a mural for me or something to work this off, girl!

  I was so fortunate I had a friend like Josie who was willing to cover my duties and not make me pay her in blood. I probably should have offered to do something nice for her without her demanding it. After all this was over and Derrick was safe, I would ask what I could do to make up for taking advantage of her like this.

  At lunch I snuck to the ruins, continually glancing over my shoulder to make sure no one followed. The door to Derrick’s room was open. I rushed forward. The room was empty. His paintings were knocked over, and tubes of paint littered the floor. White feather down was scattered like snow over the entire scene. One of his paintings had been slashed.

  I ran to tell Khaba. He wasn’t in, so I left a note. I kept sending students with notes to his office, but he didn’t reply. By the time dinner rolled around, I had heard the next round of student gossip.

  Another body. No one knew who he was.

  I feared the worst.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Dead Wrong

  After school I returned to Derrick’s room and then went to Khaba’s office again. The moment I learned Khaba was in Jeb’s office, I rushed past Mrs. Keahi who sat at her desk, something I’d never dared do before.

  “You can’t go in there!” she shouted after me. “The acting principal is in a meeting with representatives from the Witchkin Council.”

  Yeah, right. She always made excuses why Jeb was unavailable. It didn’t surprise me she would try to stop me from seeing Khaba.

  “Khaba! Is he all right? Was it him?” I burst into Jeb’s office where Khaba sat at the principal’s desk. Two elderly witches with pointed hats who I’d never met before were seated across from him. I halted in the doorway, realizing my mistake. Mrs. Keahi hadn’t lied when she’d said he was in a meeting.

  “Oh,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

  Mrs. Keahi’s hand clamped around my wrist like a vise. She yanked me out of the room, apologizing profusely.

  “It’s all right,” Khaba said. “We’re almost done here.”

  I took that to mean I could stay. Mrs. Keahi didn’t. She pushed me into a chair in the waiting room and closed the doors.

  She shook her head at me. “You need to show your superiors some respect at this school. Maybe you’re not expected to use manners and have patience out there in the Morty Realm, but in the Unseen Realm we do things differently.” She chided me for five whole minutes until the two witches exited, escorted by Khaba.

  His face was drawn. “Please leave the paperwork with the secretary, and we’ll see to it that the necessary arrangements are made.” Even with his grim expression and the worry in his eyes, he still sparkled with so much magic, one of the witches couldn’t tear her gaze away from him.

  I stood. Mrs. Keahi wagged a finger at me. “Not yet. He hasn’t said you can—”

  “I’ll see Miss Lawrence now.” He waved me forward.

  I dashed inside before Mrs. Keahi could stop me. Khaba closed the doors behind me. He drew me to him and hugged me.

  His chest trembled. “I’m failing in my duties to protect this school. They’re going to close us down if I can’t keep people from dying. I don’t know what to—”

  I hated to interrupt, but I still feared the worst. “Is he … dead?”

  “Invismo—Derrick? No.” His voice came out rough, and he cleared his throat.

  Relief washed over me. I hated for anyone to be dead, but at least it wasn’t him. I could still hope everything would be all right.

  “Who died, then? A student?”

  “A friend of mine from Lachlan Falls. You don’t know him. He was coming here to see me.”

  My lunch settled into a brick in my stomach. “Brogan McLean?”


  He drew away. His eyes swam with tears. “How did you know?”

  I regretted not explaining what I’d seen in the woods.

  “I need to tell you about Miss Periwinkle.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Confessions of the Heart

  I explained to Khaba all I’d seen in the forest while I’d used the invisibility clothes. He sat on the couch beside me, grimly listening.

  “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” he asked.

  “When would I have had time to? You were on the go with murders and attacks. Jeb isn’t here, and you’re doing everything. This seemed far less important.”

  He stood up. “What part of ‘this guy might be Khaba’s boyfriend about to be seduced by a conniving witch’ kept you from telling me?”

  “I didn’t know he was your boyfriend. I didn’t know you had a boyfriend. I thought you and Jeb were together.”

  Khaba grimaced. “That old geezer? Why would you think that?”

  I didn’t want to recount the Brokeback Hogwarts scene I had witnessed that one time through the magic mirrors. There was no good way to talk about my eavesdropping habits. And of course, there was the other reason. “The last time I tried to tell you something about Miss Periwinkle, she seduced you.”

  He waved me off. “No, she didn’t.”

  I gave him my teacherly I-know-your-dog-didn’t-eat-your-homework look.

  “She … rubbed my lamp.”

  “Like your boy toys rub your lamp?”

  “Don’t call Brogan that.” Tears filled his eyes.

  “I’m sorry.” I regretted my impulsive word choice. “I just mean, she uses people sexually. She seduces men with her magic to get what she wants.”

  “My mind is a little hazy when I think about that interaction with her,” he said. “I would never have thought a mere Witchkin could best me. A pureblooded Fae with magic—yes—but not a siren. There it is, I suppose. The confines of my magical contract with the school keeps me from being as strong as I need to be to protect myself or others.” He sank onto the couch next to Jeb’s minibar.