Reading, Writing and Necromancy Page 35

  “Miss Periwinkle and I made a bargain. I agreed to sign a statement attesting to your innocence if she helped me find Derrick. I promised I would leave with him if I found him. But Periwinkle tried to kill me instead.”

  As usual, he missed the point I was trying to make. Thatch glowered at his girlfriend. “You assisted Clarissa?”

  “I might have.” She eyed me with disdain, her gaze roving over me. “Did your supposed boyfriend give you those?”

  I looked down at myself in confusion, uncertain about what she referred to.

  “The bruises.” Her gaze drifted to my neck. “My boyfriend wouldn’t do that to me.”

  “Merlin’s balls! Is that necessary?” Thatch asked. “Listen to yourselves. You’re like children. Worse than children.” He pointed a finger at her. “Stop attacking Clarissa. If you can’t keep your jealousy and possessiveness to yourself, I will end our relationship right now.” He pointed to me. “Stop accusing Gertrude of trying to kill you. She didn’t ever try to harm—”

  “She tried to poison me,” I said. “She tried to kill me by pushing me into—”

  “As difficult as it may be for you to face the truth, you need to know Derrick was the one who poisoned your chocolate. Gertrude has never made an attempt on your life.”

  She coughed.

  He eyed her. “What? Is there something you’ve kept from me?”

  “I did push her into the Pit of Lost Souls tonight. But that’s the only time I’ve tried to harm her.” She lifted her nose as she said it, as though she didn’t deign to lower herself to such a level often.

  He looked from his lover to me. “This is exactly what I’m talking about. I will not tolerate this animosity between the two of you. If you don’t stop, I will be forced to take drastic measures… . It happens I know a spell to make two individuals best friends. I will cast that spell if you force me to do it.”

  Periwinkle stepped back, horror crossing her face.

  “Isn’t that illegal?” I asked. It sounded like it should be.

  “As if you should be one to talk after everything you’ve done tonight.” Thatch gestured to the chaos of the students putting out fires and rebuilding walls. “Now, we have work to do.”

  That was an understatement. The school was in ruins and would have to be rebuilt. One of my good friends had become a demon by my doing. Khaba wasn’t anywhere in sight. I supposed I should have been relieved about this. Instead, I kept thinking how much I was to blame. How would the school survive without our dean of discipline? How would I survive without him as a friend?

  I didn’t even know if Josie would talk to me anymore. When I thought of Derrick, I felt numb inside, like the wound was still too fresh to process the pain. I’d succeeded in resurrecting him, only for him to try to kill me. He had been the one working for the Raven Queen. My insides churned with turmoil. I’d lost my best friend, possibly for good this time.

  I had accused Thatch and Periwinkle of deeds they hadn’t been guilty of. In trying to save Derrick, I had isolated myself from everyone I had once befriended. I had become an island surrounded by burnt bridges.

  I wished I could undo all I had done.

  “I’m sorry,” I said to Thatch. I turned to Periwinkle. “I really am. Please tell me what I can do to make this better.”

  She looked like she was about to make a biting reply.

  “You are forgiven,” Thatch said. “We’re still … friends.” He hesitated when he said the word, as if it tasted strange on his lips. He offered me one of his rare smiles, and I knew things weren’t completely broken between us.

  Looking at the school, I could see I had a lot of fixing to do. It wasn’t going to be easy; I would need to make amends with those I’d wronged and undo what I’d done. Not with magic, but with hard work and determination. With friendship.

  Thatch drew my attention to the present. “There’s much mending that needs to be done to this school right now. We need to stand as a unified front to help those around us. People in the school are hurt.” Thatch rubbed at one of the blisters on his face and flinched. His hand came away bloody.

  “Like you,” I said at the same time as Miss Periwinkle.

  “Ah, isn’t that cute. You agree on something.” His smile transformed his face, a touch of something wicked in his eyes. “It’s time for you to get over your rivalry. Now kiss and makeup.” Thatch pushed Miss Periwinkle and me together like one would with fighting preschoolers.

  I collided with Miss Periwinkle. She pushed me away, a look of disgust on her face. Thatch embraced us both in a bear hug and squished us together again.

  I’d never seen him be this nice to anyone, let alone me. If Miss Periwinkle had bewitched him, it had to be backfiring on her now. Either that, or he was hugging us of his own volition. That was hard to believe, but not improbable if he thought it would make us both more uncomfortable than it made him.

  Thatch released us. He stepped toward the chaos. I placed a hand on his arm, not ready to face the real world yet. “I never asked you about my prophecy chocolate. How did it taste?” I asked. “And don’t just say it tasted like poison.” I expected him to brush me aside.

  His brow furrowed. He actually seemed to take my question seriously. “It tasted … bittersweet.”

  “Bittersweet? Or bitter and then sweet?” Had I lived through the bitter part of my chocolate? Would I have something sweet coming up in my life? Maybe that meant there was hope for me.

  Thatch smiled wanly. “Come along. I’m certain I tasted repairs to the school in your future.” He handed me a bucket.

  I found Maddy busting out a waterbender move. She parted from the other water affinities and grabbed me. “We need you, Miss Lawrence.” She tugged me toward them.

  I understood why she wanted me, but it wasn’t going to work.

  “I can’t help you,” I said. “I don’t have any magic.” Thatch had said I needed to rest and recharge.

  She held my hand, raised the other, and aimed it at the stream of water. It turned into a geyser, multiplying so strongly it plowed students over on its way to the flames in the other room. The unexpected flood momentarily reminded me of Missy accidentally flooding our basement with her magic when we’d been kids.

  Maddy released my hand, and the water died down to a smaller stream. She took my hand again, smiling as the water gushed forth.

  I still had magic to give to others? I thought I’d pushed it all into Derrick when I’d resurrected him. That was what Thatch had said, anyway. He’d insisted I not use my magic.

  Then again, when wasn’t he trying to get me to not use my magic?

  I had lost a boyfriend, and somewhere along the way, despite all I had done to hinder myself, I had gained a friend out of Felix Thatch. Perhaps I wouldn’t be alone as I set out to fix the world next time.

  Thatch had said it was impossible to save Derrick, but he didn’t say it was impossible to save Khaba.

  With or without magic, I would get Khaba back.

  THE END

  A Sneak Peak of

  Budget Cuts for the Dark Arts and Crafts

  Sequel to

  Reading, Writing and Necromancy

  CHAPTER ONE

  Another Year, Another Hex

  My first year at Womby’s School for Wayward Witches had been filled with students cursing me and teachers cursing at me. For my second year, I hoped for less dark arts and crafts, and more fine arts and crafts.

  I sat in the sanctuary of my classroom amongst a dozen of my most artistic students. Monday, Wednesday, and Fridays I hosted after-school Art Club meetings. These were my favorite days, the excuse I needed to create my own art with my most talented and enthusiastic students.

  I had transformed the gloomy stone tower of the art room into an inspiring classroom full of motivational quotes and cheerful paintings. Vincent van Gogh’s Sunflowers and Georgia O’Keeffe’s Red Canna hung above my beginning class’s close-up dra
wings of flowers, leaves, and pine cones. The Mona Lisa, one of Chuck Close’s grid-style self-portraits, and a Frida Kahlo self-portrait hung above my advanced class’s self-portraits. Students sat in desks and chairs placed into a horseshoe shape, chatting amiably and working on their independent projects.

  It was a much better start than the previous year. Students had realized I couldn’t do magic and glued me to the ceiling on my first day. This year on my first day, incoming freshmen had already heard the rumors that my biological mother was the baddest badass witch of all time, and I was someone not to be meddled with. They had learned Alouette Loraline had released a demon and destroyed part of the school . . . and so had I.

  Teachers stayed away from me, thinking I might explode with magic at any moment. Students respected me because they thought I was powerful. Little did they know how wrong they were.

  Six months before, I had pushed my affinity into Derrick to resurrect him. Until my magic recharged, I couldn’t actively use it, though something in me still brought out the magic in others. If I couldn’t use magic, that meant I was defenseless against soul-sucking Fae, homicidal students, and teachers who probably wanted to kill me.

  I couldn’t protect myself against the boyfriend who had attempted to kill me once and would try to do so again.

  At the start of last year most of the teachers had disliked me, now they hated me. Including my friend Josie. Mostly that was for releasing Khaba into his demon form. That was only the start of my problems.

  Despite my attempts to combat my worries, uneasiness wormed its way under my skin and threatened to sink its teeth in. I distracted myself with other concerns about job security and the school’s budget. At this point, I still couldn’t figure out why they’d hired me back.

  I flipped through my sketchbook, considering which of the renderings of the school might show it off in the best light. No matter what angle I chose to draw Womby’s School for Wayward Witches, it resembled an architectural monstrosity. Arms stretched out from the great hall like a spider, constructed from mismatched brick, stone and wood. The boxy buildings were stacked onto each other, gables contrasting with turrets on round towers, reminding me of Howl’s Moving castle—but on crack. I’d included the charred stones and wood from the school’s most recent fire in my rendering, though I hadn’t yet decided if I intended to include that in my final painting.

  It seemed unlikely I was going to be able to capture a viewpoint of the school that would entice anyone to buy the painting in a charity auction to raise funds for the school. I’d said as much to the principal, but the scars of the fire were at least in part my doing, so I felt obliged to help the school in any way I could.

  I would do anything to redeem myself in the eyes of the teachers and staff. After the explosion and the repairs needed after I had accidentally released a demon from the school—or as I thought of it, a djinn from his lamp—it was likely they would need to cut a teacher at the end of the year—if not sooner.

  I selected the least hideous perspective of the school and sketched the building on a canvas.

  “Miss Lawrence, look at my collage,” Chase Othello said, waving me over. “Do you think it’s good enough for the auction?”

  Chase was a junior this year. She was tall, with purple hair and a lip ring. She didn’t have time for art class so I was pleased she had joined Art Club after school.

  I set down my sketchbook on my table and went over to see my student’s work. I complimented what she had done well and gave suggestions for how she could improve her collage with contrast.

  To my right, Imani Washington, a dark-skinned girl, sketched her friend Grogda, who insisted on being called Greenie, while the other girl more or less stayed still while she drew anime characters. Considering Greenie had mossy skin and leaves grew in her verdant hair, she’d never been able to leave the Unseen Realm, or else it would have drawn attention. She had never experienced Morty culture firsthand, so I didn’t know how she’d been exposed to Dragon Ball Z.

  Maddy and Hailey chatted while they sculpted using clay.

  “Son of a succubus,” Hailey Achilles swore. “This stupid clay keeps cracking.”

  “Language,” I reminded her.

  “Sorry.” Hailey tucked her brown hair behind a pointed ear and cast her amber eyes downward.

  I walked closer and said with my patient-teacher smile. “Think about the outcome you want and the path you need to take to get there.”

  “I want the clay to stop being so dry so I can work with it.” Hailey looked to Maddy, the blonde water siren sitting beside her. Hailey clomped the gob of clay on her friend’s desk and looked at her expectantly.

  “What?” Maddy asked.

  Hailey waved a hand at it. I hadn’t been the most articulate high school student either. I stepped closer and spoke quietly so I wouldn’t embarrass Hailey. “Use words to ask for what you want. She isn’t a mind-reader.”

  Hailey lifted her chin. “Do your water magic and fix it.”

  Maddy rolled her eyes and sighed. “You could just get a cup of water.”

  Even so, Maddy picked up the crumbling brown mess in one hand. With the other she pinched something invisible in the air and drew it toward the clay. Blue light danced around her fingers, and she wove water back into the clay. Maddy’s siren magic was subtle, the task easy for her skills. Her creamy skin turned pearlescent, and she grew so beautiful it hurt my eyes to look at her. She already was tall and blonde and could passed for a model, but when her magic shimmered through the wards used to tone down her siren affinity, boys tended to drool.

  Like Balthasar.

  Hailey smacked him on the back of his head. “Close your mouth before a fly lands in there.”

  The clay became moist and pliable in Maddy’s hands. Too moist as a gush of water surged forward and mud splattered the front of Hailey’s white blouse.

  “Son of a fucking succubus!” Hailey yelled.

  “Language,” I said.

  “Sorry,” Maddy said. “I didn’t mean for that much water to come out.”

  Balthasar laughed, his mop of black hair falling into his freckled face. “You always have accidents when you’re in Miss Lawrence’s classroom.”

  Maddy bit her lip, looking from me to Hailey. Imani ducked her head down. Balthasar was right. The more time she spent with Imani and me, the more her magic went overboard.

  Hailey pretended to be more interested in drying the mud from the white shirt of her school uniform than our conversation, but her pointed ears twitched as though she was listening.

  I tried to think of a valid excuse. “It must be that everyone feels so at home in the art room, we let our guards down.” I strolled away from Maddy in case I was the cause.

  After what I’d done last year, my affinity wasn’t drained, just depleted, like a battery with some juice still left in it. I still had a knack for drawing out the powers of others. Over summer vacation while I had resided with my fairy godmother in Oregon, I’d inadvertently brought out plant magic in her. Either that or it had been Imani, who had stayed with us during the summer months, and also had that effect on people with her secret Red affinity.

  We had been fortunate Gertrude Periwinkle had looked after Maddy, otherwise I would have needed to bring her home with me. Her proximity to so much of our magic would have drawn the attention of Morties and Fae alike.

  Imani met my gaze. Worry tugged the corners of her mouth downward. One of these days I would give myself away, and when I did, it wouldn’t just be myself I took down but Imani and Thatch.

  The uncomfortable quiet of the room stretched on. Hailey coughed.

  The awkward silence was broken by Trevor. “Look what I made!” he said, holding up a chunky clay animal.

  Unlike most of the other students at the school, Trevor should have been in middle school. But his powers had manifested early, and he’d needed a place to go. I’d never been clear on what his affinity was, only that
he had a talent for eating my glue and crayons.

  “Is it good enough for the art show?” he asked eagerly.

  From the way he’d overworked the clay, it had dried out. He’d mashed the cracked clay coils together so that it resembled a dinosaur made out of turds. A Turdosaurus rex.

  I didn’t want to break his heart, so I opted for a half truth. “Remember, these projects are just experiments. We don’t even know if the clay from the stream banks can be fired or if it will fall apart. We need to let this dry out and build a kiln out of—” I stopped midsentence, eyeing Trevor warily. “Why is your mouth brown?”

  Trevor’s cheeks flushed scarlet. Quietly, he said, “I wanted to see if it tasted like chocolate.”

  “The clay?” I asked.

  The wind outside rattled the shutters.

  Hailey snorted. “Was it everything you hoped for and more?”

  I shook my head at her. “Don’t encourage him.” I turned back to Trevor. The wind whistled so loud, I had to raise my voice to be heard. “Honey, we’ve talked about this before. “You cannot eat art supplies. If you want to be in Art Club, you have to—”

  “C’est pas vrai!” someone said from the door. Pierre halted in the hall, a bundle of canvas under one arm. He scowled.

  I waved to him and welcomed him in. He wasn’t one of my usual Art Club enthusiasts—I could barely get him to do his assignments in my class—but Maddy had asked him to join and he’d attended three meetings so far. He was an Elementia with a rock affinity, which gave him the bulging muscles of the Hulk. Those body-builder muscles coupled with his baby face made him a favorite amongst the girls.

  He glared at Balthasar Llewellyn. The smaller boy’s goblin-like features couldn’t compete with brawny and handsome Pierre.

  Pierre grumbled, his voice rumbling like rocks rolling down a hill. “It was my turn to sit next to Maddy.” Or that’s what I suspected he said. Between the unusually low voice and his French accent, it was often difficult to understand what he said.