Astrid gave me a look, her brows shooting up so high, they almost touched her hairline. “Well, this smells emotional, so on that note, I’ll be on my way. Thanks again, Poppy. Think about what I said!”

  Faster than a spell, Astrid snatched up her potion, coat and bag, and was out the kitchen door and striding across the graveyard that separated my house from Wanda’s duplex.

  A sigh slipped out of my mouth as I shook my head and wiped my hands on a dish towel and then stepped into the living room before Finn could stomp his way up to his room and disappear for the rest of the afternoon.

  When I came out of the kitchen, Finn was already halfway to the stairs, backpack slumped low, his right hand jammed into the pocket of his shorts.

  “Hi, buddy, how was school? Are you hungry? Do you want a snack? I stopped at the store earlier and picked up your favorite chips and some Oreos.”

  My overture was immediately shot down when Finn gave me a silent, sullen glare.

  I sighed again, folding my arms across my chest as I leaned back against the door frame. “Look, I understand that you’re angry with me. But I’m your mom and you need to understand that I only want to keep you safe, Finn. It’s my job to keep you away from things that are dangerous.”

  “Magician magic isn’t dangerous.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Andre,” he started but I shook my head, even as my stomach dropped at the mention of the man.

  “We don’t know Andre.”

  Finn’s glare ratcheted up another couple notches in intensity, the corners of his mouth pinched white. “We don’t have to know him—I could read him.”

  And that brought up an interesting angle I hadn’t thought of before. I cleared my throat. “And?”

  “And everything he said was true. He didn’t have any bad intentions towards either of us. He was… just trying to help. He’s a good person and you totally humiliated me and yourself in front of him.”

  I nodded and was quiet for a few seconds as, inside, I fully realized the horrible mistake I’d made with how I’d left things with Andre. I breathed in deeply and then exhaled just as deeply.

  “I’m happy to hear that Andre’s a good… guy,” I continued, nodding. “And, well, I just wanted to tell you that I was already planning on going to talk to him to apologize for the way I barged out and to… ask him to explain what being a magician entails.” Finn’s eyes shot open wide with surprise. “And if I think it’s safe enough for you to continue on this… magician’s path, we can talk what that would look like.”

  If I’d been expecting excitement or a smile though, I would have been sorely disappointed. Some of the anger leaked out of Finn’s expression, yes, and the surprise was still there, but he seemed only barely mollified, just giving me a short nod before he turned to head towards the stairs. The movement twisted his arm, and he winced but tried to hide it. He still didn’t take his hand out of his pocket.

  Suspicion raised its head within me as I settled my gaze on his arm. That was the same hand where the weird magic number tattoo had appeared. Had something happened to it? Or to his hand?

  “What’s wrong with your hand, Finn?”

  He shrugged carefully with only his left shoulder, mumbling, “It’s nothing,” before continuing on his way to the stairs.

  My temper sparked. That was definitely not nothing. That was pain and I’d seen it in his eyes. I strode up behind him, and before he could stop me, I tugged his arm and pulled his hand free from his pocket.

  And when I looked down, all I could do was stare at his hand, horrified. His skin had been scraped nearly raw, with dots of blood beading to the surface in a few places. His knuckles looked swollen, and it was all painfully warm to the touch.

  The black ink number ‘one’ was still intact, standing out crisply amid the otherwise red wasteland that was his skin.

  “Finn! What happened?”

  Finn just shrugged again, not meeting my eyes. “It’s nothing. Me and some of the guys were messing around, and I scraped my hand against the ground. It’s fine, Mom.”

  He was lying. The flush in his ears, the way he couldn’t look me in the eyes, they were both dead giveaways. More importantly, why was he lying to me? What was he covering up?

  “You didn’t get this roughhousing with other kids.” I cradled his hand gently, but I didn’t let go. My mind was already going to my custom first aid kit of potions as I mentally flipped through the ointments and tinctures I had stocked. I needed something to soothe the battered skin and promote healing. Some Healing Oil for sure and then maybe a blend of Health Attracting Oil, Kindly Spirit Oil and Soothing Waters Oil.

  Finn’s lips pressed into a tight line as he fought not to fidget, obviously trying to think up another excuse and quickly. He stared down at the floor, like a plausible lie might be written there.

  “Finn,” I all but pleaded. “I’m not mad. I just want you to tell me what happened—and I want the truth.”

  Finally, his eyes flicked up to mine before he looked away again. “One of the new teachers,” he mumbled. “Ms. Rose…”

  It was a struggle not to interrupt, not to demand he spill everything all right that second, but I knew better—he needed to tell me in his own time. So, I just held my patience as I held his arm and waited for the words to come out in drips and drabs like a leaky faucet.

  Finn swallowed, his throat bobbing sharply. “She thought it was pen on my hand and she didn’t like it, which was kind of weird but whatever. Anyway, she told me to wash the mark off, but I told her it wouldn’t come off.” He stopped talking then and seemed at a loss, as though he was searching for the right words.

  That overarching sense of exhaustion had returned to his features and his mannerism and those dark circles were back beneath his eyes. The change between now and when we’d been sitting with Andre, was like night and day.

  “And then what happened?”

  “She… she marched me to the back of the room which has a sink, and then she just started scrubbing and scrubbing my hand, and the mark didn’t go anywhere, just like I knew it wouldn’t. But she wouldn’t listen. If anything, the fact that it wouldn’t come off just seemed to make her madder and madder, so she… she went and found some steel wool, and…”

  His voice trailed off as he stared up at me, blue eyes wide in his pale face, and I could see the fight there as he tried to keep his tears back. His freckles stood out like sepia ink.

  It was only then that I realized I’d dropped his hand to clap my own over my mouth. Anger bubbled through me, the likes of which I hadn’t felt in a very long time. In fact, I felt like I was going to scream. A teacher had done this? A teacher had scraped my son’s hand so raw, the skin was bleeding?

  “It’s fine, Mom.” Finn wrapped his uninjured hand in the sleeve of my sweater. “Ms. Rose thought it was a tattoo, and she said kids my age shouldn’t be getting tattoos.”

  “She had absolutely no right,” I started, but the words couldn’t encompass the anger that was pounding through me.

  “It’s not a big deal—it will heal.”

  Not a big deal…

  I wasn’t sure what was worse—the fact that it had happened or that Finn was acting the way he was. As far as I was concerned, it was a very big deal. A teacher, someone he should have been able to trust, someone I should have been able to trust, had ripped his hand to shreds over an ink stain. And he thought it wasn’t a big deal? I couldn’t even wrap my head around the wrongness of the whole situation. But one thing I did know? The school was about to deal with the fury of an enraged mother.

  “Who is Ms. Rose?” My voice came out tight, vibrating with red-hot anger. “What subject does she teach?”

  Finn frowned, but didn’t answer. “Mom…” he started and seemed strangely evasive. I wasn’t sure why.

  “What she did to your hand is a big deal, Finn. It’s a very big deal.”

  “I don’t… want to talk about it anymore.”

  It didn’t matter if Finn told me who this awful woman was. There couldn’t be that many ‘Ms. Roses’ at the school. And I didn’t want to make Finn any more uncomfortable than he already was. It wasn’t his fault that his hand was now bleeding, and I didn’t want him to think I was mad at him.

  Instead, I steered him over to the couch and sat him down. Then I hurried up the stairs to dig out the first aid kit—first things first, his hand needed to be tended to and bandaged. I glanced up at the clock and figured it was late enough that most of the teachers had probably gone for the day.

  Well, come the morning, bright and early, I was going to march down to the school and unleash holy hell on everyone in it. I’d be having some very strong words with the principal, and I would insist that Ms. Rose lose her position right away. Hmm, the more I thought about it, the more I wondered if I should get the police involved. This could very well be a case of child abuse and I knew Taliyah, our Chief of Police, would definitely take it very seriously.

  Chapter Fourteen

  It took everything in me to keep somewhere close to the posted speed limit as I drove towards Haven Hollow Middle School the next morning.

  Only the fact that Finn was in the Jeep with me kept me from screeching down the asphalt like some vengeful fury on a mission. I’d have probably laid siege to the school the night before if I’d thought any of the teachers or principal were still there.

  “Mom?” Finn’s voice was small, quieter than normal. “It really is okay. I wish you’d just forget about it and get on with your day.”

  I glanced over at him, where he was sitting in the passenger seat, and caught a glimpse of his bandaged right hand, pale against the leg of his dark blue sweatpants, and had to take a careful breath or I was going to scream or cry and I didn’t know which.

  I didn’t like the fact that he kept defending this awful teacher and, furthermore, I didn’t understand why he kept doing it. He should have realized she had no right to do what she had to him—even if he’d gotten actually gone out and had someone tattoo him—that wasn’t any of her business—it was mine.

  It was a struggle to keep my voice calm when all I wanted to do was breathe fire at someone, but I made the effort for Finn. “Sweetheart, I don’t want you to think I’m mad at you, because I’m not.” I quickly glanced over at him to make sure he could see the sincerity in my eyes. “You did nothing wrong. But this is so far from okay that they might as well be on separate planets.”

  He kind of shrank into himself, turning to look out the window, and it hurt my heart to see him acting that way, but this was not something I could let go of. And I wasn’t going to. No, the school was going to hear about it and something would be done. Or I was going to take the situation straight to Taliyah. I didn’t want that teacher around Finn again, and I also didn’t want her hurting any other students—she would immediately be fired or else.

  I did, however, attempt to relax the muscles in my shoulders, and had to forcibly remind myself to stop grinding my teeth, if only to help relieve some of the headache which had started since early this morning. I also didn’t want to sound like I had to bite each word out of solid stone whenever I spoke.

  I tried making lighter conversation, but Finn didn’t seem very interested in talking, giving me only one-or-two-word answers. Even after reining in my lead foot, we pulled into the roundabout in front of the school in almost no time.

  I twisted my body around to face the passenger side fully to watch Finn scoop his backpack off the floorboards and open the door to step out of the Jeep.

  “I love you, Finn.” I needed him to know that—that anything I did or said came from that exact place—that, as his mother, I was always going to stand up for him and protect him. It was important.

  He managed to summon up the ghost of his usual smile as he slid out the door onto the pavement outside. “Love you too, Mom.”

  He hooked his bag over one shoulder and shut the door before turning to trudge up the steps to the school. I watched him go, my heart feeling swollen and heavy in my chest. I had to take a couple deep breaths before I put the Jeep back in gear to go find a parking spot. Fortunately, all I had to do was remember the blood beading on Finn’s hand, the way he’d winced when I’d dabbed the healing ointments on the wounds the night before, to bring the fury roaring back to life. At least the heat of my anger was enough to burn away the sense of helpless despair that flooded my chest as Finn disappeared into the school.

  I was still riding high on a wave of outrage when I marched myself into Mr. Green’s office a few minutes later. The school secretary said something as I mowed right past her, but I couldn’t even hear her over the roar of blood in my ears. She stood up, the screech of the chair legs against the linoleum very loud in the small room, but unless she physically tried to stop me, I was going to talk to the principal and nothing was going to stop me. This wasn’t the kind of situation that could wait.

  Mr. Green’s head popped up from the papers on his desk as I barged through his door, not even bothering to knock. He appeared owlishly surprised from behind his round glasses and blinked twice, as if he were buying himself time to remember who I was.

  “Ms. Morton? We don’t have an appointment—”

  My nostrils flared like a furious bull, but I tried to keep my voice under control when I spoke. It wasn’t the man’s fault, but I certainly didn’t think much of the teacher he’d hired and he was about to hear all about it. “I need to know why Ms. Rose, one of the teachers you employed at this school, thought it was appropriate to scrape my son’s hand raw over an ink mark!”

  Mr. Green’s graying brows drew down over his nose like duelling caterpillars. “What are you talking about?”

  So, I explained to him again exactly what Ms. Rose had done to my son’s hand.

  When I was finished speaking, Mr. Green’s forehead creased, like he was thinking hard, but was completely perplexed. “Ms. Morton, the problem is… we don’t have a teacher here by that name.”

  My fury got knocked sideways into confusion as I felt my words splutter right off my tongue. “How do you not have a Ms. Rose here?” I demanded. “Finn said she dragged him to the sink in front of his whole class and scrubbed the mark on his hand until it bled.”

  Mr. Green raised his hands helplessly. “I don’t know what to tell you, Ms. Morton. There is no teacher at Haven Hollow Middle School that has the last name ‘Rose’. I know them all, I assure you.”

  And that was when I remembered something. Finn had mentioned that Ms. Rose was a substitute teacher. I told Mr. Green as much, but he continued to shake his head. “We’ve used the same substitute teachers for years and none of them are named Ms. Rose,” he answered on a sigh and appeared irritated with me for barging in on him with something I could tell he didn’t think was serious. “Unless you can give me a different name or any other details of when or where this happened, I’m not sure what I can do.”

  Had I misheard Finn? But no, he’d mentioned Ms. Rose before, when I’d been helping him with his math homework. And he’d said she was angry all the time, so he didn’t like asking her for help.

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “He definitely said it was ‘Ms. Rose’. She teaches him math. And he also mentioned that he’s been having trouble with her for weeks, because she isn’t a very nice person. I just figured she was a grumpy, old woman—I had no idea she was going to actually injure him!”

  Mr. Green fished inside the top drawer of his desk and then produced a piece of paper which he slid towards me, across the face of his desk. “Here is a list of every educator employed at this school, substitute teachers included. There is no Ms. Rose. Please look and see for yourself.”

  I scanned the list, and he was right. There was no mention of a ‘Ms. Rose’ anywhere, not even so much as a ‘daffodil’ a ‘lily’ or a ‘jasmin’ among them. My eyes did stick on one name, though. ‘Mrs. Dove’, Finn’s old homeroom teacher. He’d told me she’d been sick, but it looked like she was still teaching at the school and, from what I could tell, had been.

  “I don’t understand.”

  None of this made any sense. Why would Finn lie about Mrs. Dove being out sick? For weeks? And why did he mention Ms. Rose if there was no Ms. Rose? Finn wasn’t exactly the master of deception. He always got flustered, his ears turning a bright red with every fib he told. I could read him like a book—or, at least, I thought I could.

  Even now, as I recalled the conversations we’d had, I would have sworn on anything that he’d been telling me the truth. Part of me was still convinced he was, even as my stomach sank like a lead balloon.

  “Ms. Morton.” Mr. Green sighed, pushing his glasses up to rub his eyes. Without the silver frames in the way, the heavy dark circles underneath them were much more prominent. “I’m sorry for whatever has befallen your son, but if I may be blunt, I have quite enough on my plate as it is with the unprecedented rates of truancy we’ve been having lately. Not to mention how the school has been subjected to numerous bouts of mischief—”

  “Mischief?” I frowned as my stomach fell and I started to wonder if there was more to this situation than met the eye.

  He nodded and sighed, sounding as exhausted as he looked. “We’ve been dealing with baffling graffiti on the walls, cherry bombs in the boys’ bathroom, coat hooks going missing, destroyed chairs, destroyed blackboards… the list goes on. So, unfortunately, I don’t have the time to focus on a teacher who, as far as I’m concerned, doesn’t exist—at least not here.”

  I swallowed hard, unease crawling up my spine like a spider, one shivery step at a time. “What does the graffiti say?”

  I had too much experience with furious and dangerous spirits not to question it. A poltergeist, a rare form of especially violent and powerful ghost, could do most of what the principal was reporting. They also tended to leave messages, ghost signs, and since I was sure that a middle school principal had seen any and everything kids could think to spray on a wall, I couldn’t imagine any other reason he’d refer to the graffiti as ‘baffling’, unless it had a more unique message. Maybe even a supernatural one.