“Ms. Alvarez will be teaching the middle-grade hex class.”

  “Yes, I've heard my son speak of her. I think it's a waste to have her in the class. When we agreed to your participation in this event, it was with the condition that you teach both hex classes–” the man continued.

  “I think you're mistaken,” John cut in. “First of all, I've selected the perfect assistant.”

  “I told you about her–” Baker cut in.

  “And,” John continued, speaking over Baker. “You and the Kitchen Witch Academy board of directors have no jurisdiction over what or how I teach. Perhaps I should give the President of your organization a call.”

  “No, that won't be necessary,” said the woman, stepping between them. “If you're sure everything is okay...” she trailed off.

  “It's just a harmless prank and not worth your time.”

  “We'll go then.”

  “Wait, I'm not finished–”

  “Mr. Dobbs. We'll talk about this at a later time.” She grabbed his arm, grip tight enough to make her knuckles white. It was to the guy's credit that he didn't wince, but it looked very uncomfortable.

  Hold on. Dobbs? As in that brat's dad? The Hex Emporium scam artist that gave hexxers a bad name? The other person who made my life hell when I was at my lowest. Great.

  “Wait,” I called as I paced toward them. “Why did you come over here in the first place?”

  The woman folded her hands in front of her and smiled. “We know everything that happens on our grounds.” Both she and the other man turned away and moved quickly, heads close as they seemed to conspire together.

  “You're not going with them?” I asked Baker.

  “No, I came to deliver this, instead. You left your journal behind.” He took a package out of his inner pocket and handed it to John.

  John ran his hands over the packing material. “How did you get it back?”

  “Who are you talking to? I’m here to help my favorite cousin.” Baker asked in a voice he usually reserved for sucking up to the big boss.

  “Baker, you got a little something on your nose, there.” I tapped the tip of my nose and smirked at the glare he tossed my way.

  “Your cat and I can't tell what's missing, so it would be helpful if you searched through your stuff.”

  “How bad is it?”

  “Pretty thorough for amateurs. No signs of magic entry or unlock spells.” I walked around the room. “There's also no sign of detonating or removing your security spells, so I'm not sure what they used.”

  “He doesn't use security spells,” Baker said as he followed me around. His gaze glowed blue then purple as he used his magic to scan behind me.

  “Quit following me,” I said as I pushed him to the side.

  “Someone has to cover your ass,” Baker bit back.

  “What's that supposed to mean?”

  “I paid three months' rent–”

  “A loan against my paycheck–” I interjected.

  “For you to protect my cousin. And here we are.”

  “Hey, this isn't her fault.” John stepped between us.

  Conflict and surprise went to war inside me. It was the first time anyone had defended me. And I never expected him to be the one to do it.

  I touched his arm and gently stepped around him. “You're right. You hired me for this job. And I screwed up.” Granted, I didn't have access to his home before, but that didn't matter. The fact was Baker paid for my rent on the promise that I would deliver.

  “It won't happen again,” I said, taking a solemn vow. Or as solemn as I could against someone as irritating to look at as Baker. I needed to remain grateful, but there's a part of me that thinks he gave me this job to torture me. And that doubt expanded, wondering if both men were setting me up for further humiliation.

  “If it does, you're off the case and someone else will replace you.”

  Suddenly a loud chime sounded, interrupting our conversation.

  “That's the bell to return to class. Go ahead. I'll talk to my cousin.”

  “I can't do that. From now on, I'm your shadow,” I said, completely serious. I would much rather stay here and get lectured by Baker than return to the chaos of that classroom.

  “He'll be with me. We have to talk – family business.”

  “Is this a trap?”

  “Get lost before I fire you anyway,” Baker roared at me.

  “Fine. When you're done, come get me. I have a lot of questions.”

  “No problem.” John smiled at me and then cut his gaze back to Baker, withering his arrogance instantly.

  “Mark Anthony, guide her back.”

  “Yes, sir,” said the familiar as he padded in front of me, tail high in the air, chin lifted.

  My surprise could barely be contained. He was that little fluff ball, after all! “Mark Anthony is a lovely name,” I said as I followed the cat down the steps and onto the path.

  As I walked away, I made a mental note of all the paths and escape possibilities. John was too vulnerable. Aside from his clothing, I found no defensive spells whatsoever around him and his possessions.

  For someone as talented and sought after as John Reeves, his refusal to take his safety seriously was a mystery I couldn't solve. Not yet, anyway. Once I finished the day with this class, I would sneak back to his yurt and do some protection hexes.

  We reached the familiar door leading into the middle-school hex lab. “Thanks for escorting me. I'll see you later,” I said as I stepped through the door, and straight into absolute chaos.

  7

  John

  I watched her chase after Mark Anthony with a weird tightness in my chest. My gaze fell on the wreck of my room. They left the walls intact, but everything else inside was destroyed. Torn open mattress, ripped up pillows, what exactly were they looking for?

  I needed to rethink my protection options.

  And that meant dealing with him. I eyed my cousin, considering his prior offer. “How did you get inside Academy grounds?”

  “Oh, since you accidentally locked me out when you entered? I gave her the golden pass, did you honestly think your little joke would keep me away?”

  I shrugged. “It was a hope.”

  “You are such a pain in the ass. I almost hate to give this to you.”

  “What?” I asked as I slowly sifted through the mess, picking up broken furniture, and organizing papers here and there.

  “Here,” he said as he handed me another package, similar to the one he handed me in front of Veronica. I set them down on the small dining table she had previously put back in place. Both were wrapped in spellpaper. One was cold to the touch.

  “Are these–”

  “Your journals. Both of them are back in your hands, as requested.”

  An immense wave of relief welled up inside me as I held them both in hand. With trembling fingers, I tore open the spellpaper and immediately sensed my spellmarks on the covers. “How did you break the ice curse?” I asked as I ran my fingers over the chilled spine. I flipped open a few pages, making sure my research notes were intact, and shut it gently.

  “It wasn't easy. You owe me big time. What did you think about Veronica? Is she everything I promised?”

  “She’s exactly the way I remember her.” I picked up the only chair left intact and set it next to the table. With a sigh of frustration, I sat down and placed both books on the table in front of me.

  My cousin waved a hand in front of my face and I swatted it away.

  “No comebacks? No sarcastic quips about my lack of ability or how much I annoy you?”

  “You are annoying,” I said.

  He shuddered gently and used his magic to rewind the damage on another chair. That was one of my cousin's abilities. He can return things to the way they were, in the order they were destroyed. A very lucrative skill to have in the mercenary business. Especially when it comes to kidnappings and high-profile robberies. “Ugh. That wasn't even close to sincere.”

  “Let's get on with it. I need to know what they were looking for. And what they took.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled. He cast a few spells and I watched the room rewind itself step by agonizing step. I couldn't see the people doing the carnage, but we could figure out a few things. Their height, their methods, and what they were looking for.

  My research notes were dangerous in the wrong hands. Other families and organizations wanted to break out in the hex market and figured this was the easiest way to do it. The only problem was that I wrote my spells in code, unlocking the full spell through a certain ritual each time I needed to use it.

  Was that why she was so convinced I was next on their list?

  “Have you noticed anything yet?” my cousin asked.

  “Not yet.” I put aside my thoughts and focused on his work. His spell was incredible, but the one thing it couldn't tell me was what they stole. The spell only worked on what remained, not what was taken.

  Pillows restuffed themselves, the mattress back together, fully functioning.

  “There, you see?” my cousin spoke and slowed everything down to a crawl. “They were looking through your suitcase. Several books were tossed aside, a few under the bed.”

  I tapped my fingers on the cover of my research journal, letting the chill slide up through that slight touch, leaving a dull ache in my hand. “Were they after these?”

  “They're not going to stop, John.” My cousin's voice weighed heavy, dead cold, no humor or sarcasm dripping from his tone.

  “This doesn’t make sense. They know I don't have the books. Or didn't until now. They must be after something else.”

  He slammed a fist on the table, startling us both. My cousin was usually even-tempered in the physical category. He was more of a giant windbag and rarely violent. This obviously got to him. “They don't need the books. They need you. You're not safe here. Come back home where we can protect you.”

  Going home wasn’t an option. I’d be forced back into my lab working on my dead-end hexes, waiting to perform parlor tricks for stakeholders. “You sent me Veronica.”

  “Yeah, and you immediately stuffed her in an isolated pocket dimension with a bunch of rowdy kids.” He waved his hand and the spell sped up to a speed faster than my eye could track.

  In moments, my room was almost back to the way it was. A few things, like some spellworks and ingredients, were ruined by the intruders.

  “So what's the result?”

  My cousin sighed. “I don't know if you're inhuman or not. How can you not be upset? Get angry about this. They are constantly gunning for you. There's going to come a time where we can't come in and fix this shit for you, especially if you keep ignoring your personal safety.”

  “You mean ignoring the impact on stakeholders?” I sneered.

  “That's my mom. Not me. She's all business all day. I don't know why you give her such a hard time. You're both just alike. She pours everything into the family business and you pour all your emotions into your research.” He waved a hand. “Whatever. It's like talking to a wall.”

  He jerked to his feet and walked around the room. “There were at least two people.”

  “You can't tell how many?”

  “It seems like there were three. These two kept coming to the center of the room as though conferring about something. They could have been taking orders or using a portable conferencing device that could bypass your teleportation array.”

  “Okay. At least two people. What else?”

  “They didn't go into your bathroom or touch anything in the small kitchen area. Only this part of the room was affected. They methodically ransacked the place, only slowing down when they came across books.”

  “Did they take any?”

  “You tell me.”

  I got up from my chair and looked around carefully. To be honest, I wasn't sure what I had brought with me, since Mark Anthony usually packs everything I need. My familiar was very particular about stuff like that. “Nothing that I can tell.”

  “You kept no other journals or spellbooks with you? What about special spell ingredients or inks to unlock your journals?” His spell was winding down as clothes mended themself, refolded, and dropped back into my suitcase.

  I shook my head. That was part of my anxiety since I came here. Not having a spellbook was like lying naked in a sea of thorns. Ridiculously painful. But only Mark Anthony knew that.

  “I want you to keep Veronica Alvarez close to you. She's a little rough around the edges, but she's one of the best hex artists out there. Her traps are innovative. And she thinks on her feet.”

  “Did you choose her for another reason?”

  He continued his spell and cut a glare at me. “Yeah. She uses hexes so it won't interfere with your research. Plus you know one another.”

  His words pierced my chest. “She doesn't remember me.” Probably a good thing. It would be better for both of us if she didn’t remember who I was.

  “I doubt that. And even if that's the truth, she still admires your work.”

  Did that mean she didn’t hate me? “How do you know that?”

  “She talks about you all the time on jobs. Part of the reason I give her a hard time. She's a more annoying version of you.”

  I couldn’t stop the smile from lifting my lips. “Thanks for the compliment.” I flipped through my journal, looking for marks or other identifiers that would show what they were specifically looking for. This didn’t feel like a regular magecraft espionage situation.

  “It wasn't a compliment. Never mind. Anyway, why wouldn't she remember you? You used to be classmates.”

  “She has good reason to hate the Academy and bury her memories of it.” And bury her memories with me, as well.

  “Oh, what happened?” he asked as the last of his spell died down.

  I opened my mouth to reply when a sigil came to life on the wooden planks beneath my feet, bright, searing, and dangerous.

  My cousin and I reacted at almost the same time, diving away from the mark.

  A concussive shock slammed into us, knocking me against the wool-felt walls of the yurt. It took my impact, but the shock of the explosion disoriented me. I shook my head, trying to clear the dizziness when someone yanked me up onto my feet. The scent of hot roasted peppers and honey filled my senses and I looked up to see Veronica's pale face. She yelled something I couldn't understand, but I forced myself to stand.

  “Why are you here?” I tried to ask, but she shook her head at me, touching her ears.

  Was I speaking too softly? How was she here? A loud ringing in my ears made it hard to hear anything but my ragged breaths. A sharp pain pierced my side and right leg. Did the spell injure me somehow?

  She hauled me away from the wall and to the door. My cousin's hand was on my back. Veronica supported me, my arm over her shoulder. One hand held mine in an iron grip, the other one hooked into my belt loop, making it easier to drag me with her. I should be able to walk, but my legs didn't seem to want to cooperate.

  My cousin stepped forward but she held him back, releasing my hand to dig into her pocket. Out came a smooth river stone, small, black, and with a hex I'd never seen before carved into it.

  She tossed the rock with a whispered curse on her lips, igniting the mark. Instantly smoke billowed out from the rock.

  No, not smoke. Sand. Correction. A sandstorm. One that instantly turned our world dark.

  “Are you crazy?” I yelled at her, instantly inhaling a mouth full of sand. In a sandstorm, no one could see anything.

  She grinned at me and grabbed my hand again, dragging us away from the door.

  We made it only a few feet before another spell hit us from behind, knocking us both to the ground. I pulled her close, instinctively trying to keep her safe.

  I had a glimpse of my cousin's twisted expression before I blacked out.

  8

  Veronica

  A painful impact slammed into my back, twisting me around. Suddenly, John collapsed in my arms. Oh shit, we’re in trouble!

  He took the brunt of the stun spell. What the hell is going on?

  John's familiar jumped between us and Baker, hissing, hair standing up along his spine. “You did this,” he yelled at the man.

  I blinked in surprise and saw Baker raise his hands in surrender. My gaze, however, locked onto an unusual weight in one of his sleeves. Was it an artifact? I glanced at my bracer and found my stunning artifact missing. My brain worked fast.

  Son of a bitch.

  He's trying to frame me. When did he get it? How?

  Shit, it doesn't matter.

  John's weight brought us down to the ground and I drew a hex from my bracer. A dome shield, barely big enough for us. And by us, I meant me, John, and Mark Anthony, if the familiar would come closer. I snatched him up and put him in my lap, triggering the shield hex the moment the cat was in my arms.

  An iridescent dome, looking similar to a water or soap bubble formed around us.

  “What are you doing, Alvarez?” Baker shouted, slamming his fist against my shield. “We're on the same side.”

  “Of course, we are,” I said with a smile. “I don't have enough space for all of us inside here.” You can see it's a bit tight already.” I wasn't lying. The bubble was stretched the length of John's legs, making the top of the bubble a little cramped. I dropped Mark Anthony on his chest and pulled his legs closer to us so that he was practically on my lap.

  “Alvarez, this doesn't look good, you know.” He stalked around the edge of the dome, eyeing it like a starving tiger looking for fresh meat.

  “I'm aware.” In a side pocket of my bag, was a giant stack of hex spells held together with rubber bands. Some were on expensive spellpaper, others were crumpled notebook paper. I took off the rubber band, and rifled through them, desperately searching for the one I needed.

  A spell slammed against the bubble and I winced at the burst of pain it caused me. This hex bubble was a last defense, and I used my blood to make it. With blood magic came consequences. Like pain every time someone beat on it.

 

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