“So, what’s the lesson today?” I growled. “One hundred ways to hex a god? Potions that force someone to play air guitar? Castration Spells?”
Fox winced. “Okay, you’re kidding right? I mean, tell me that Castration Spells aren’t a thing.”
When I simply arched my brow, he paled.
Playing with mages was so much fun. I ignored Bask’s censorious tutting. For once, the no touching rule worked in my favor.
“Well,” Fox sighed, “I guess that I now know my least favorite lesson plan.”
Bacchus rapped the root throne with her nails in a way that was too casual to mean anything good. “What an inventive imagination you have, monster, it’s only transfiguration.”
My magic feathered inside me, and I gritted my teeth.
Magenta didn’t see me like a monster, nor did the other Rebels. They didn’t need to know the truth. It’d dirty them. Perhaps, I’d been stupid to relax and think that I could have friends as well as allies.
Don’t let Bacchus spoil it. Not again, not again, not again…
Lysander stood up like he was on army parade. “Pick me. I’m certain that I shall excel at—”
“Sit down. Not you,” Bacchus snapped.
Lysander’s wings drooped, and he sat down as if his strings had been cut. Willoughby patted his shoulder in comfort, but it was awkward like he didn’t know if he was doing it right. Lysander didn’t even acknowledge him.
Bacchus pointed her long finger at me. “You.”
I rolled my eyes. Consider my ass surprised. Not the rest of me. Just my ass.
I hated this class because as Bacchus’ hostage, she always used it to humiliate me. But as long as she did that, she wouldn’t focus on the whipping boys…I hoped.
Yet when Magenta’s hand tightened around mine, I realized that suddenly I wasn’t alone. I had a witch by my side for the first time, and it didn’t feel forbidden but right.
Bacchus might be the most powerful witch in America, but Magenta had told me this morning that she was the only Blessedly…or Wickedly…Charmed witch in existence. Even with her powers dampened or controlled, Bacchus had better watch her ass. This academy couldn’t hold us forever.
Bacchus raised her arm, and a short iron spear appeared in her hand that was covered in ivy and topped with a pine cone.
Magenta clapped her hands in delight. “How perfectly delightful! I’ve never seen a real wand before.”
When Bask snickered, Bacchus’ knuckles tightened around the wand.
Bacchus cocked a haughty eyebrow. “This is my bacchal thyrsus, and more dangerous than a mere girl can understand.”
Magenta huffed. “My mother was fond of fancy words for things as well. Your wand’s pretty, but I remember a time when the ritual of tea meant something,” huh, she was passionate about that, “and you’re not old enough to call me girl.”
Bacchus smile was beautiful but so deadly that my balls attempted an escape back into my body. “I’m so much older than any of you. Mine is true immortality, darlings. The ancient kind.” When her gaze flickered to mine, I froze. “Loki and I are like snakes biting each other’s tails. I’m chaos as welclass="underline" neither good nor bad but that which delights in the storm and the fire.”
“Dad’s not like that,” I whispered. “He only seeks—”
“The chaos moment.” Bacchus sprang up, and Pocus drew back, startled. “Let me tell you a story.” She prowled closer, and my heart thudded in my chest. I blanked my expression, however, because I didn’t want her to have the satisfaction of knowing that she was getting to me. “Once upon a time, a certain God of Mischief did a great wrong to my god, Bacchus. Luckily for Bacchus, the God of Ecstasy, he had his cult and could choose his most dedicated followers to transform into immortals. He named each one Bacchus, giving them a single task: hunt and hurt Loki.”
Bacchus prowled around me, leaning down to stroke my hair. I flinched. “And I love to hurt him. How much do you think it hurts him every day to be separated from you?” I bit my lip hard. “To know that you’re trapped in here with me, and that I could be doing anything to you? Don’t you think that he must be in agony?” My eyes burned. I wouldn’t cry… Then she tightened her hand in my hair as she whispered, “It’s weird though that he hasn’t tried to save you yet. Do you think it’s because he doesn’t truly love his monster kids?”
Finally, a tear tumbled down my cheek. I hated the wet sensation as it trailed down my skin, its coldness, and the way that I was helpless to stop it. I hated…everything.
Bacchus wiped the tear onto the tip of her finger like she was collecting a payment. “Every tear is one more drop of justice for Bacchus. Cry, son of Loki.”
“Remove your hands from him, now.” Magenta’s voice was low and dangerous.
To my shock, her mists were wrapped around Bacchus’ neck, and her magic lit the entire classroom like fireworks. The room vibrated; a single spark could send us all sky high.
It was kind of hot to have someone defend me with such intensity.
“This is why a wicked witch like her should never have been admitted,” Lysander spluttered.
Yet Bacchus only grinned. “Such frenzy! I wear a charm against your powers, or had you forgotten? But it’s far more interesting for me to see them for real. Lesson Number One: Transfiguration works best through emotion. That’s why you’re both my subjects this class.” She glanced down at our hands, which were still clasped together. “Your fierce angst is perfect for transfiguration.” Then she tapped her thyrsus on the desk sharply. “Just chill out on the strangulation.”
Magenta hesitated, until I nodded. Then her mists faded, and the dancing pink lights dimmed. Yet they didn’t disappear.
Bacchus rubbed her neck. “Seriously, you’d think that I was all bad. But look, I even brought you a gift.”
When Bacchus drew back her thyrsus and waved it over my head, I flinched, expecting to be turned into a chair again or a pumpkin, but instead, something cool settled around my neck. I reached up to touch the silver, and my eyes widened.
I stroked over the plectrum with shaking fingers. Just one moment longer, before I had to part once again with the final link to my dad…
“Take it back.” I couldn’t help the way that my other hand broke away from Magenta’s to clench around the plectrum. “This was a sacrifice to…”
“Hecate appreciated the gesture, but do you truly think that she needs trinkets?” Bacchus asked.
“It was my blood that raised Magenta,” Fox murmured. He raised his fingers to his cheek, where the feather had sliced him. “I’m officially hating that it’s always about blood.”
Bacchus waltzed back to her bone-white throne, throwing herself into it. When Pocus crawled around her, settling between her spread thighs, I held my breath. If the second part of this lesson included Pocus’ tongue, then I was noting this as a war crime against hostages.
“Lesson Number Two: transfiguration is stronger if you create or change the item, whilst thinking of the person with whom you have a strong emotional connection.” She stroked Pocus’ hair, settling his head against her thigh. I let out my breath in relief, and Bacchus studied me slyly. I flushed. “The spell is even stronger if you enchant something that belongs to them.”