Hex Crimes Page 14

  Vega raised her chin, her expression smug. “We won’t need to. She figured out what didn’t work. With that spell in the back of her diary, she was able to create life from nothing.” She raised an eyebrow. “That’s how she created you.”

  “No, it wasn’t.”

  She crossed her arms.

  “My father was supposedly a demon.”

  “Do you believe every rumor Thatch starts?”

  I stared at her in shock. “He started that?”

  “Someone did. He’s the most likely candidate. He didn’t want anyone to know how she did it. She didn’t conceive you with a man. She conceived you with magic.”

  “We don’t have that spell. Thatch took the book from me.”

  She strolled over to my bed where the notebook that she had used to smack me with had fallen. She opened it and held it out to me. “Look familiar?”

  I scanned the pages. Within were pages copied from the diary, with translations on the opposite pages. Vega’s translations were far better than mine had been.

  “Wait! How did you do this?” Considering she was brilliant and sneaky, that should probably have been self-explanatory. “When did you do this?”

  “Long before you tried to burn it. I don’t even have to divine the future to see how shortsighted you are.”

  I flipped to the end. In the book was the last spell, the one my mother had found in the library crypt. It was now complete. I stared in open-mouthed shock.

  Vega laughed, sounding pleased with herself. “It was easier after you stole the books from the library.”

  “This is it? This solves the Fae Fertility Paradox?”

  “Not quite. There’s still something missing.”

  “What?”

  “There was a page torn out of your mother’s journal, something that didn’t mend itself when I resurrected it from the ashes in the bottom of your garbage can. It’s something I haven’t quite figured out yet.”

  “So you think I need to solve the Fae Fertility Paradox? That’s how I’ll fix Elric’s problems and mine?” It would either fix everything or give me a whole new can of worms to deal with.

  She snorted. “You don’t have enough skill, talent, or power to solve it. We are going to do it together.”

  Even if she hadn’t cackled, I knew I didn’t like the sound of that.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Going Vegan

  Although I had never looked fondly on Vega or her penchant for wicked deeds—usually deeds directed toward me—it was better to have her on my side than against me.

  Not that I had a whole lot of choice in the matter. If Vega wanted to help me, there was no stopping her. I could only hope she wasn’t going to ask for something in return.

  Like my immortal soul.

  After dinner the following evening, I found Vega in our room surrounded by an arsenal of floating books. She lounged lazily at the desk, perusing tomes.

  “First order of business,” she said, not bothering to turn toward me. “We’re going to the library. You’re going to show me where you got that book with the spell for the Fae Fertility Paradox.”

  “About that. . . . I don’t think Miss Periwinkle would like me going into the forbidden crypt under the library.”

  Vega spun so fast in her chair, she elbowed a book aside. It collided with another, and that book toppled into another, a cascade of literary dominos. She snapped her fingers and pointed to them like one would with disobedient dogs. They fell back into place. “A crypt? Were there dead bodies in this crypt?” From the way she grinned, I suspected she liked the idea too much.

  “There was only one dead person. Mostly it was a crypt full of books. Maybe a vault of books is more accurate.”

  She sighed. “Well, that’s not as enticing, but it should have what I’m after.”

  “What are you after?”

  “Knowledge.” She turned back to what she’d been writing.

  Vega with too much knowledge was bound to be a dangerous thing.

  “What about Miss Periwinkle? That secret room was locked up for a reason. Miss Periwinkle doesn’t like just anyone to get their hands on forbidden books.”

  “I’m not just anyone.”

  “I highly doubt Miss P is letting you into her chamber of secrets.”

  Vega scribbled a note into her notebook, oblivious to my Harry Potter reference.

  “How are going to get into the vault?” I asked.

  “Duh. With magic.” She snapped a book closed and snatched one floating to her left. “We’ll go at night while she’s busy taking care of her siren needs. Even if she does sense intruders in the library, I hardly think she’ll be in any kind of shape to do something about it.”

  It was rare that I saw Vega in her element like this. She was practically incandescent as she sat there jotting down notes. Her pale skin glowed with rosy color, and her eyes sparkled. I would have taken her for someone in love from the way her face expressed such earnest eagerness. She was so passionate about learning, I might have considered her an artist in her level of enthusiasm. Maybe it was Elric’s muse magic that drew this out of her.

  Or maybe it was something else. Vega liked to live dangerously.

  “Why are you doing this?” I asked.

  “Doing what?”

  “Helping me.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m not. I’m helping myself.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Knowledge is power. Every Celestor knows that. I am simply providing fuel for the fire of my knowledge.”

  I suspected it was more than that. “Is it something Elric offered you?”

  “He doesn’t know about this. I would prefer to keep it that way.” She arched an eyebrow in my direction. “Do you understand?”

  I nodded. “I won’t tell. I just want to understand you.”

  She turned a page in a book. “No one understands me.”

  “Is that because you don’t want anyone to understand you?” Because she didn’t want anyone to know her?

  She didn’t look up. “It’s safer that way. I like to be mysterious.”

  I peered at the translation before her. “What can I do to help?”

  “Don’t get in my way.”

  I tried to think of something I could do. “I’ve been learning Latin. I can translate those sections for you.”

  “What takes you hours takes me five minutes. Not to mention how your translation will be filled with inaccuracies.”

  “I could—”

  “Your skills at magic are freshmen level, though that might be too generous. Then there’s your ability to trip over your own feet without provocation. You’re too clumsy to be any use. Your baking skills might enthrall Thatch, but it isn’t much use here—not until we get farther along anyway.”

  “How will baking brownies—”

  “If you can cook and not poison us, I expect you can follow a list of directions reasonably well. Possibly well enough not to explode the school or kill us, if your culinary abilities are as good as Thatch claims.”

  A little thrill went through me at the idea that he liked my cooking. He liked something I had done. I wiped the smile from my face when I remembered why I was mad at Thatch. Before I’d realized he had been manipulating me, all those kind things he’d done to show me he cared had felt so . . . real. When we’d spent time together, I’d felt like I’d made a friend. He had been kind and considerate. That time we’d been washing dishes together, talking about books we liked, hadn’t felt like a ploy.

  If he had given me a dose of pleasure magic in the fear chair when that’s what my affinity wanted, it was hard to stay mad at him. It wasn’t just that I had wanted him heart and soul, but I’d craved him magically as well. If he had loved me in return, I would have done anything for him. As it was, I was letting my personal feelings—and resentment—get in the way of my better judgment. When I thought about him, I didn’t know if it was my affinity
that yearned for him or my heart.

  Vega continued. “So long as what I ask of you doesn’t involve walking, I think we’ll be all right. In the meantime, the most useful thing you can do is bring me dinner. I work better on a full stomach. And make sure you bring me something vegan. I don’t do dairy or meat.” She gave me a shove toward the door.

  Once again, I was relegated to Vega’s lackey. Lucky me.

  Two nights later, Vega woke me from a sound sleep by splashing cold water on my face. Her wand lit the room in purple light. She wore one of her short dresses that showed off an immodest length of leg. One of her sequined shawls was draped across her shoulders.

  I sat up, sputtering. “What’s going on?”

  “Get dressed,” Vega said. “We’re going to the library.”

  I wiped the water from my face with my sleeve. “Was that really necessary?”

  “No. But it amused me. Hurry up.”

  Such was the price of Vega’s help. She liked to be entertained as much as any Fae.

  Ten minutes later we made our way to the library. Vega used her wand to light the way, but she snuffed the flame when we spotted the custodian approaching. I held my breath, hoping Ludomil Sokoloff wouldn’t catch us. He used the same spell I’d seen him cast on the night of the meteor shower and passed through a stone wall.

  Once we reached the library, Vega tried her wand to unlock the door, but it seemed Miss Periwinkle’s magic was stronger. The door spoke in a creaky voice, asking a question that only one worthy to enter the library after hours could answer. “Who is the protagonist in The Great Gatsby.”

  “That’s easy,” I started.

  “Shush.” Vega elbowed me in the ribs. “George Wilson is the protagonist.”

  “Hmm,” the door said doubtfully.

  Vega spoke confidently. “He’s the only one who does anything about any fucking thing in the entire book.”

  That was such a Vega answer.

  I shook my head. “No! Nick Caraway was the protagonist. The story was told through his eyes. Even claiming Jay Gatsby was the protagonist would have been more accurate.”

  “Shut up, midget.”

  The door creaked open.

  “See, I was right,” Vega said.

  It was more likely the door had opened for me than her. Vega tried to use her wand on the door at the back of the library that led to the crypt. It didn’t work.

  “How’d you get in before?” she asked.

  “You used that locator spell with all the stars. One of the lights slipped through the door, and it opened.”

  Impatiently Vega incanted the spell. Little lights drifted around us before converging into a globe of glowing light and floated through the door. She tried the handle again. Nothing happened.

  Vega swore. “I’ll break this door down if I have to.”

  “It opened easily before.” I placed my hand on the knob. “Maybe I said something like ‘alohomora’ and—”

  “That is a made-up word,” Vega said.

  “Not completely made up.” J. K. Rowling was the one who invented it. Maybe a Fae muse had inspired her.

  The lock clicked under my hand. Vega sucked in a breath. “Bitch, I hate you.”

  Coming from Vega, that sounded like a compliment.

  We descended the stairs. Vega lit our way with her wand.

  The air in the vault was strangely pleasant, the scent of vanilla growing stronger. I inhaled deeply. “It smells like sugar cookies.”

  “That’s the ink. It’s fermenting and gives off the scent of vanilla.”

  Vega strode into the first room full of library books. She perused the titles, studying them with care. Most were written in foreign languages. I had no idea what they were, but there was such wonder in Vega’s eyes, I had to ask.

  “What is this place?”

  “My every fantasy come true.”

  “So these books are on necromancy or something?”

  She gave me a sharp look. “You don’t know when to keep your mouth shut, do you?”

  I shrugged. “I thought you liked dead people.”

  She rolled her eyes. “These are books on old magic. Some of it is forbidden. I wouldn’t doubt there are a few volumes about speaking with the dead and raising the dead.” She gave me a sharp look. “But that’s not what we’re here for. Perhaps another time. In any case, these are books I’ve read about in other books, lost tomes that could illuminate mysteries I never imagined might be solved.”

  She ran her fingers along the spine of one, her caress sensual. Longing filled her eyes. This one was in English: Past Lives and the Ability to Relive Them. I didn’t doubt she was thinking about Dox.

  “Do you want me to show you where I found the book?”

  She turned away from the book. “That’s what we came here for.”

  We passed several more rooms before finding the one with the poisoned librarian collapsed over her table. The air smelled like berries and apples.

  “This room reminds me of cobbler,” I said. “It makes me hungry.”

  “That’s the scent of the dead body. Mummified human flesh gives off chemicals that smell like fruit.” The corners of her mouth curled upward.

  My hunger curdled into horror. “You’re just saying that to mess with me.”

  “Sure,” she said nonchalantly. “Go ahead and believe whatever you want to believe, so long as it makes you feel better.”

  I did notice that the closer I stepped to the dead body, the more intense the fruity aroma became.

  “It would be ideal if we could question the scribe,” Vega said.

  I remembered how well that had gone last time. The dead Witchkin had grabbed me, wanting her book back. My touch had resurrected her, but she wouldn’t let me go. My touch had lent her more power. It was another case of the Red affinity being used against the owner.

  Vega examined the hunched-over figure, using her wand to gently sweep stray strands of hair out of the corpse’s face. She sniffed at the overturned goblet but didn’t touch it.

  “Ah, poison,” she said.

  “You can smell it after all this time?” She hadn’t even used the poison-detecting spell. I knew the librarian had been poisoned because she had told me. A man had poisoned her, someone she’d trusted.

  “No. There’s a message at the bottom of her goblet that says, ‘You’ve been poisoned.’ Her enemy wanted her to know. He had a sick and twisted sense of humor.” She snorted. “I bet I would like him.”

  “How do you know it was a man?”

  “I don’t. But I have a fifty percent chance of being right.”

  She waved her wand over the corpse. “Someone removed this woman’s jaw. Post mortem.” Her brows furrowed together in actual sympathy. She straightened. “What kind of deranged individual would do such a thing? Someone stole her mouth. Could it be symbolic? Her enemy didn’t want her to talk, even after she was dead? Or is this the work of some juvenile delinquent who broke into the library and thought it would be fun to desecrate the dead?”

  “It might have been an accident,” I said, my palms starting to sweat as I thought about my last exchange with the scribe.

  I spotted the lower half of the woman’s jaw on the floor next to Vega’s feet. I nudged it into Vega’s view with the toes of my shoe. I didn’t relish the idea of telling Vega that I had been the deranged individual. Fortunately the woman’s long sleeve covered her missing hand. At least I wouldn’t have to tell Vega about that.

  Vega’s gaze fell on the jaw. Realization stole over her face.

  I swallowed. “It was self-defense. She attacked me.”

  “Why would she do that?”

  “She wanted her book back.” I held up my hands, trying to ward off the murderous look in Vega’s eyes. “I didn’t hit her face. She was talking, and her jaw fell off. Think about it. The dead aren’t meant to talk and move.”

  Vega picked up the jaw and held it in place.
She touched her wand to the cheekbones, sweeping arcs of purple light where the bones attached. A swirling cloud of mist brightened above Vega’s head. The halo of light blurred and then came into focus, a miniature galaxy opening up above her. Stars twinkled above Vega’s crown like a halo. Sparkles drifted down and into her.

  Amni Plandai and Elementia did better when they were near what fueled their affinity. Jackie Frost had been strongest during the winter. It seemed reasonable it would be the same with Vega. Yet, we were far below the school, and she still managed to draw in what she needed to fuel her affinity with so much stone in between her and the stars.

  I knew Vega was powerful, but I had never known stone walls and distance wouldn’t stop her from using her magic. Seriously, I wondered why she didn’t just take over the world. It wasn’t her lack of power or her moral compass stopping her. It had to be something else.

  Maybe she did have a little bit of a heart.

  Vega whispered, what almost sounded like a song. The way her hands fluttered near the corpse’s face reminded me of a Japanese tea ceremony. She made each gesture with the grace of a dancer—which she was.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “It’s a standard restoration spell—though far beyond your abilities—so don’t bother trying it. I’ve reattached her jaw and made the leather of her skin supple and flexible. The calcium and minerals I’ve added to her bones should fortify her so she won’t fall apart the moment she awakens.” She smiled at me, batting her eyelashes sweetly. The swirling galaxy of light above her faded. “She’s ready to communicate with the living. Go ahead.”

  “I thought we were here to get some books.”

  “I lied.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t. I don’t have the—um—the right ingredients.” I desperately tried to think of an excuse. I didn’t want Vega to know this was part of my affinity. I didn’t want her to use me to regularly wake the dead for her.

  “Cut the bullshit. We both know you can resurrect the dead. And you don’t need any candles or a spell.” She arched an eyebrow at me. “I tried that spell you used. It was completely fake. And don’t tell me I did it wrong. I have a photographic memory, and I’m a Merlin-class Celestor.”