Hex Crimes Page 8

  “I didn’t make this mess,” Balthasar Llewelyn said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “It was everyone else.”

  Somehow I had always imagined being a teacher would be like the Sound of Music when Baron von Trapp blew his whistle and the students became orderly and mindful . . . like magic.

  I tried another tactic. “Community service is part of your grade in this class. If you don’t want full credit for participation points, that’s up to you.”

  Students continued to grumble, but at least they started cleaning the sink area. It was a blessing I now had running water. Teaching ceramics wouldn’t have been possible without after-school Art Club putting in extra work.

  Maddy had helped get the water running. Having a student with a water affinity came in handy at times. The earth affinities made acquiring clay at the stream possible. Hailey overseeing the new kiln outside that we’d built out of bricks made by firing the clay into bisque blocks was now possible. This time, our kiln was golem-free.

  If it hadn’t been for magic and teamwork, my classes would have been impossible to teach.

  “Do you remember the spell Miss Kimura taught you for cleaning?” I asked one girl who kept flinging nasty, burnt-smelling spells out of her wand at the dried clay. “This is a great opportunity to put what you’re learning in your other classes to practical use.”

  Balthasar dropped a rag at my feet as I was directing other students. “I’m done cleaning up your pot mess.”

  I turned to him with wide eyes. “I think you mean pottery. Our clay pieces are called pottery.”

  “Whatever.”

  “No, this is important. You need to call it the correct term.” If they didn’t, the principal would probably lead one of his tours into my classroom with a bunch of donors, and someone would blurt out we had made pot in my class.

  I pointed to his section of floor. “You need to remove all clay. I still see a puddle of sludge.”

  “Look at this pinch pot I made!” Maya Briggs gleefully told a friend. She held up a well-crafted and perfectly smooth piece. She’d formed a sphere by smoothing two half-circle pinch pots and added a long neck made from a cylinder.

  “That is a lovely vase,” I said. “You did an excellent job smoothing it out.”

  Her smile was smug. I kept an eye on the students in the back who were using magic to clean the area around the sink. Had Balthasar mastered cleaning spells, it was likely he wouldn’t have been using a rag to scrub at the wads of clay stuck to the floor. It was unlikely he was much better at defensive magic.

  Balthasar was a second-year senior. How would he survive when he was booted out of the school this year?

  As I examined the piece Maya was showing off to her friends, my suspicions rose. “Why is there a hole in the side of that vase?”

  “Um… .” Her face flushed red. “It’s to drain the water so it doesn’t get too full. My grandma has one like it.”

  Her friends laughed. I wasn’t very worldly, but I could tell when a student was fibbing.

  I wasn’t sure, but I suspected she had made a bong, but not one that would work. Then again, I didn’t smoke, so I wouldn’t know for sure. I set the supposed vase on the table next to Maya. “When Mr. Khaba comes in here to admire the pieces students have made, are you going to get in trouble when he sees your name on it?”

  “I didn’t put my name on it,” she said quickly.

  “You need to seal up that hole in your vase. If students make inappropriate sculptures in my class, the administration isn’t going to let me keep teaching sculpture next year. Is that what you want?”

  Maya hung her head in shame. “No. I’m sorry.”

  After students had finished cleaning and cleared out, I found no less than five miniature sets of penises and testicles left in various parts of my classroom. It was like an Easter egg hunt.

  Wouldn’t you know, that was the moment Elric came in, escorted by Khaba. I squashed the latest cock and balls sculpture before they would see.

  The two Fae men shimmered and sparkled as if trying to outdo each other. Khaba was dark compared to Elric’s silvery appearance, but he didn’t radiate any less magic.

  “Pardon the intrusion, Miss Lawrence,” Elric said, all smiles. “I was wondering if I could have a word with you about this year’s auction and All Hallows’ Eve Open House.”

  I glanced at Khaba. He crossed his arms, not looking pleased.

  “Please, don’t let me interrupt you,” Elric held up his hands placatingly. “You can continue with what you were doing as I notify you of some changes.”

  “Okay.” I wiped down the tables the students hadn’t done a good enough job of getting clean.

  My heart did a double beat as Elric strolled closer. He was as beautiful as a model for a classical painting. I think I might have fallen in love with him naturally if I hadn’t had the pressure of the contract that had been looming over my head. If he hadn’t lied to me about so many different matters, I probably wouldn’t have drunk Thatch’s potion. I would be blissfully unaware of how my own magic affected me. Even knowing all that, I still longed to cuddle up with him and talk about my day. It wasn’t just physical touch I yearned for, but the intimacy of companionship and friendship.

  I didn’t know whether I would ever be able to have that with anyone again.

  Elric swaggered over to my desk. “This year, I have convinced your principal to do something different. Instead of holding a silent auction later in the year to raise money, I have asked him to do so during the open house.”

  “Okay,” I said. “So you’re here to tell me I need to hurry up and make some art suitable for the auction.” As if I wasn’t busy enough in September.

  Elric went on, unfazed by my lack of enthusiasm. “Furthermore, I’ve asked the principal to consider inviting patrons who have the means of paying for art. Should the principal wish to raise the funds he needs to keep the school going, he needs to invite those with enough capital to do so.”

  “We invite the community and parents,” I said, uncertain where he was going with this.

  “Exactly. You invite the poor.” The corners of Elric’s mouth turned down in what one might have taken as sympathy. “My idea was to invite the rich.”

  “He means Fae,” Khaba said. “Not Witchkin. Rich Witchkin make donations to the school they’ve graduated from. They donate to the institutions where they send their own children.”

  “So you want to invite Fae into this school?” I asked.

  “No,” Khaba said.

  “Yes,” Elric said.

  They both started speaking at once, making it impossible to hear either of them.

  Elric spoke louder. “It may not sound safe, but it’s a practical solution to the school’s financial problems.”

  Khaba also raised his voice. “It’s absolute madness! We can’t have Fae here. It’s bad enough as it is.” He glowered at Elric.

  “Um. . . .” I held up my hand, trying to signal for them to stop shouting over each other. Surprisingly, they did. “Why are you telling me this?”

  Khaba arched an eyebrow upward. “Yes, why did you insist on speaking with Miss Lawrence? Principal Bumblebub said he would consider your idea.”

  “I believe Miss Lawrence has a good chance of convincing him.”

  I scrunched up my nose. I doubted that.

  “Hear me out. I realize it wouldn’t be in your best interest to invite just any Fae into your school. These would be hand-selected individuals I am willing to vouch for. They would be people who could afford to offer more than twenty-five American dollars for one of your watercolors, to raise money.”

  “And what about those who show up without an invitation and bring down their wrath because they weren’t invited?” Khaba asked.

  Already I could see a scenario like Sleeping Beauty with the wicked fairy godmother crashing the party. There were so many ways this could go wrong.

  “It’s a nic
e idea. I can see you’re willing to try to help the school, but it wouldn’t be safe for the students,” I said. “They’re my first priority.”

  Elric leaned back against my desk, the leather of his pants creaking. “We could do it during a holiday when there were no students—during the winter break. What matters is that you are here. That’s why the Fae would come. You’re a curiosity.”

  Khaba pointed a finger at Elric. “I’m not going to expose Miss Lawrence to the dangers of Fae and put her in jeopardy for money.”

  Now I understood why Elric thought I could convince Jeb. The old geezer would do anything for money. He wasn’t above exploiting me to do it either.

  Khaba went on. “Nor am I about to weaken our wards by inviting more of your kind in.”

  “More of my kind? As if I’m something so different from you.” Elric laughed and looked to me. “There are alternatives to inviting my kind into the school.” Elric strolled around my desk to the chalkboard. He selected a piece of chalk to write something on the green surface.

  My gaze settled on what I hadn’t noticed before. One of the students had left me a little present on the ledge of the chalkboard. Another “Easter egg” for me to find. I prayed no one else would notice.

  “The important detail is that—” Elric stopped, his gaze drifting downward.

  He lifted an inch-tall penis from the ledge, careful not to squish the wet clay. “One of your pieces?”

  Khaba’s annoyance shifted to amusement. “That would be Miss Lawrence. Always leaving her inappropriate art around.”

  “One of the students keeps making them and hiding them for me to find.” I held out my hand for Elric to hand it over.

  He did so. I squished the piece and crossed over to a bag of open clay where I dropped it. “As you were saying?”

  “Students need not attend. The important thing is for you to attend. That’s what’s going to draw other Fae in.”

  With Elric, there was always something more. “As your date?” I asked.

  “It wouldn’t hurt.” Elric smiled hopefully. “I could protect you better.”

  “We broke up,” I said firmly.

  Khaba pretended to examine shelves of drying clay pottery, as if the lumpy brown projects were more interesting than the juicy details of my love life I was certain he’d be gossiping about later with Josie.

  “I’ve given you some space.” Elric lowered his voice to a hushed whisper. “It’s been two months, more than enough time for you to think about how much you regret breaking up with me. Don’t tell me you don’t think about me . . . that you don’t miss me.”

  His arrogance made my blood boil.

  I had thought about him. I missed his hugs and his cuddles. It had been comforting having someone I could confide in. He understood my affinity.

  But more than that, I missed the person I had thought he was—someone who wasn’t a liar. But every step of our relationship he had omitted important details—his marriages being one. I didn’t want a relationship where I would always be wondering if the man I loved was using me.

  “I’m flattered by the kind offer,” I said, plastering an imitation of a smile on my face. “It was nice seeing you again, but I have a classroom to clean up before Art Club gets here.”

  Elric stepped toward me. “Clarissa, don’t be like that. Give me another chance. We can start over. This time I won’t make the same mistakes. You know all my secrets now.”

  “I would like you to leave.”

  Elric crossed his arms, looking sulky. “Thatch won’t be able to protect you forever. Not from the Raven Court. Not like I can.”

  “Is that why you tried to attack me with lightning? To prove a point?” I didn’t know Elric had blasted the school with lightning on the night of the Celestor star party. It could have been anyone, but Thatch had insinuated the Silver Court might be behind it. Carefully, I watched Elric’s reaction.

  Elric stiffened. “I would never attack you. I can’t believe you would even think that about me. He told you that, didn’t he? He’s trying to turn you against me, even now.”

  Guilt settled like a lump of ice in my belly. Thatch had been behind the accusation, but even if he hadn’t, I might have come to the same conclusion anyway. Who else knew what I was?

  Khaba clapped a hand against Elric’s shoulder. “Come on, honey. You’ve overstayed your welcome. We’re going back to the office where we can discuss real school business, not bother teachers about your love life. Or lack of it.”

  “Even if you aren’t mine, I wouldn’t try to hurt you,” Elric said, desperation in his eyes. “I want the best for you. You must know that, don’t you?”

  I wanted to believe him. I suspected he believed what he said; he just didn’t walk his talk. He would do anything he could to protect me—even if it meant lying to me and keeping me from the truth.

  I looked to Khaba imploringly. Khaba grabbed Elric by the arm, hauling him toward the door.

  Elric raised his voice. “Felix Thatch isn’t good for you. He’ll hurt you. He’ll use you. He’ll break your heart again. Stay away from him.”

  “Thanks. I can handle myself.”

  Khaba clucked his tongue. “Get a grip on yourself, princey. Clarissa—Miss Lawrence—is an intelligent young lady. Give her some credit. She can take care of herself.”

  “She’s still in love with him,” Elric blurted out. “He’s magically coerced her once. He’ll do it again.”

  I shook my head at him. “Shut up!” I didn’t want Khaba to know about my affinity.

  Khaba looked to me, concern in his eyes.

  Elric gestured to me. “You have to see how much danger she’s in. He still works for the Raven Court. You can’t allow her to fall under his spell.”

  I glared daggers at Elric. “I’m not in love with him anymore. And for your information, if I did want to get together with him, it wouldn’t be any of your—”

  Elric raised his voice, cutting me off. “He molested her while she was unconscious. She’s in denial, but it’s true.”

  Khaba eyed Elric skeptically. “What are you talking about?”

  Dread crept over me. I pointed at Elric, shaking my head. If I’d had the energy for it, I might have shot a bolt of lightning at him to shut him up.

  Imani and Greenie walked in the door, chattering away about Art Club. Imani halted when she saw Elric.

  “Hello, Imani,” Elric said, his anger fading under a friendly smile.

  His capricious nature unsettled me. I didn’t trust him for a moment.

  “We were just leaving.” Khaba shoved Elric toward the door. He made eye contact with me. I didn’t need magic to read his mind. His expression told me he expected me to fill him in later whether I wanted to or not.

  Khaba pushed Elric out the door. On his way past the shelves of projects drying out, Khaba paused long enough to hold up Maya Briggs’ bong. Apparently she hadn’t made it any less appropriate.

  He lifted an eyebrow. “I hope you don’t mind. I’m going to confiscate this.”

  I sighed. “Can I get it back when you’re done? I’d like to reclaim the clay. We have to dig it up ourselves.”

  “We’ll see,” Khaba said with a wink. “I don’t want you to get the bong conclusion, but it depends if it works or not.”

  Imani stood in the corner with Greenie, watching them go. She hugged herself, her shoulders hunched.

  I went over to her. “Is everything all right?”

  She shrugged.

  Greenie nudged her with an elbow. Imani swallowed, gaze downcast.

  “What is it?” I rubbed her shoulder.

  She leaned into me and sighed dejectedly. A hug or a pat on the back was like crack to a Red affinity. Poor kid. I gave her shoulder a squeeze and stepped back. I didn’t want to be like Elric and question someone when I was touching her to make her compliant.

  “Just tell her!” Greenie said.

  “The Fae pri
nce keeps trying to talk to me. He’s observed every one of my classes, and he finds a way to single me out and talk to me each time. He asks me about dancing and art and—” Her voice wavered.

  Greenie finished for her. “He asked her about the accident on the roof when she was almost struck by lightning.”

  “He wanted to know if I knew how I caused it. I wasn’t trying to make a storm. It just happened. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt or get drained.” She threw her arms around me and cried.

  I hugged her. “I’m fine. Really.”

  I didn’t know if I was more concerned that he knew about the incident and had spoken to her about it—or that she might have caused it with her affinity. Had Elric been involved as Thatch had suggested, and that was how he knew? Then again, if he had been hanging around the school for any length of time, he would have heard rumors. Last time I’d checked, gossip wasn’t a crime. If it had been, Josie and Khaba would have been the biggest culprits.

  “Greenie, go wait outside and guard the door,” I said.

  She groaned and stomped off, leaves sprinkling from her dark green hair and drifting to the floor in her wake. “Why do I always get stuck guarding the door?”

  She slammed it closed behind her.

  I drew away from Imani and handed her a tissue. “Has he asked you about your affinity?”

  “No. Not exactly. But he must suspect. He told me I’m in danger if I don’t figure out how to use it. He told me he would help me.”

  Chills skated down my spine when I thought about Elric knowing what she was. I didn’t think he was the sort of Fae to hurt people—despite what I had accused him of earlier to test his reaction—but I didn’t think he was beyond using Witchkin. Imani was an artist, someone the Silver Court with all their muse magic might be interested in. He might be grooming her to use her for her magic as he’d hoped to use me.

  There certainly were worse fates than marrying a powerful Fae prince who would be loyal and loving, but it had to be by someone’s choice. From her reaction, I took it she didn’t want anything to do with him.

  “I’ll look into this,” I said. “Then we can figure out where to go from there.”