Brothers of Brimstone Book 1: Slater
Autor:in
Elizabeth Gordon
Gelesen
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Mallory Moody takes a teaching job in the human sector, hoping to win the favor of her old crush, Randall. But her plans for love are upended when she inherits a sleep demon from her predecessor and faces an uninvited debt-collecting demon named Slater. Now, Mallory must juggle her work, a budding romance, and battling two unexpected houseguests—demons who complicate her already chaotic life.
The Poisoned Apple
Book 1: Slater
MALLORY
Teachers and comedians were always the first to be beheaded during a tyrannical reign. Witches are not well known for their comedic timing; I suppose that is why we are drawn to teaching and the healing arts.
Now that I’d stared into the eyes of twenty-five little faces, I wished I’d brushed up on my comedic skills so I’d have a joke handy to lighten the mood.
Principal Wagnor had suggested that I dive into a routine curriculum for most of the day to restore a sense of normality. She’d also advised me to block out time at the end of the day to bond with my students and allow them to express their feelings about the loss they had just endured.
“It’s not common practice, but Silvia Peters was well loved by her students. They are still mourning her loss,” Principal Wagnor had explained.
Silvia Peters, the teacher I’d replaced, had become an insomniac, and rumor had it that she died of exhaustion.
Though it was apparent that the staff was grieving, I wasn’t so sure about the students. The children spoke candidly about their young teacher’s death.
I cringed as a young brunette raised her hand. I glanced at my roster and noted her name before calling on her.
“Yes, Harmony?”
“You look tired,” Harmony declared. “Ms. Peters was always tired and used to nod off in class. Are you going to sleep in class as well?”
Against my will, my fingers shot to my face and began tracing the bags under my eyes. Harmony was correct; I was exhausted.
I had been up half the night, kicking myself for taking this position.
I had had little contact with humans. It might have been my job to protect the balance on their behalf, but I had a difficult time understanding them. They had always struck me as odd creatures.
Witches are born with an instinctual understanding of the world. Our knowledge is gifted, and our skills are honed.
Humans, on the other hand, have the divine gift of ignorance and are granted the privilege of making mistakes.
My professors had explained that this was intentional because humans had been put on this earth to create. Their imaginations are sparked through their doubts and assumptions of the unknown.
Because of our knowledge of the world, witches lack that unbridled creativity. This made rebalancing the world a frustrating feat, especially when the humans allowed their imaginations to run wild.
I think this was why I had done my best to avoid the human faction—out of fear that their chaotic nature might affect me.
When I had decided to teach, I had imagined teaching witches at the Divination Academy, which I had attended, or the Gibbous School, where the lycans were trained.
Never had I guessed that I would find myself shaping the minds of the human faction in Silverdale.
Though I had been confident when I’d accepted the position, it wasn’t until last night that I’d realized how little I knew about humans.
Without bothering to raise his hand, another student cried, “She even fell asleep while standing!”
The student who had piped in was the only one whose name I had dedicated to memory. His name was Roger, and I had spent most of my morning reprimanding him.
Before I could scold him for not raising his hand, the girl who’d had the unfortunate luck of being assigned the seat next to Roger reached out and batted his arm.
“Roger, stop speaking so poorly about Ms. Peters.”
“I’m only telling the truth, Stephanie,” Roger protested as he stood to demonstrate. “One moment, she would be writing on the whiteboard, and then suddenly she…”
He trailed off as his arms went slack, his eyelids drooped, and his chin dropped to his chest. Then, he opened his mouth and released exaggerated sounds meant to imitate snoring, which caused some of the other students to giggle.
Stephanie didn’t find Roger’s antics as amusing as her classmates. She sat back and crossed her arms.
“She didn’t snore,” Stephanie declared, “and you shouldn’t be making fun of her. How would you feel if you died, and we all made fun of you?”
Stephanie’s statement seemed to sober Roger up a bit. “I wasn’t making fun of her,” he cried defensively. “I was just telling Ms. Moody what happened.”
I touched the gouges that Ms. Peters had left on the lip of my desk. I’d been horrified when I’d discovered the marks.
If Ms. Peters had been a lycan, I would have dismissed the deep ruts. But she had been human, and humans have brittle, weak nails. I couldn’t imagine her having the ability to cause such damage.
Now that I felt my own fingers stroking the same area, I realized that it was possible.
Roger sat down. Before I could experience a moment of relief, Harmony’s hand shot up again.
I sighed inwardly as I prepared to permit her to speak, but the bell sounded as I opened my mouth.
The kids lost interest in our discussion as they scrambled to collect their belongings.
Since it was my first day, I had decided not to assign homework. When I was a young witch, this small token from a teacher would have won me over, but human children were a different breed.
Once the children had collected their things, Stephanie addressed me. “You forgot to give us an assignment.”
I gazed around the room and noted that only Roger seemed to regard Stephanie with dismay. Though I considered him a problem child, he was the only student I found relatable.
“I want you all to look up the word ‘decorum,’ then write an essay on how decorum could benefit us in the classroom,” I told them.
Stephanie, who was bright and likely already knew the definition of the word, gave Roger a sidelong glance. “I think this assignment is meant for you.”
I opened my mouth to assure Roger that the assignment was not meant to target him, but he didn’t give me the opportunity. He glared at me as he tightened the straps of his backpack and followed the other children out of the room.
Once the final student had exited, I propped my elbows on the desk and cradled my head in my hands.
This was the first moment of peace I had experienced the entire day. It was funny how we didn’t really appreciate silence until we were deprived.
I could have sat there the rest of the evening if it hadn’t been for a tentative knock on my door.
Reluctantly, I lifted my head to greet my visitor.
It was Randall Page, the warlock who had encouraged me to take the position.
On any other occasion, I would have been thrilled that Randall had thought to visit me, but today I wasn’t so pleased to see him.
Sure, it was my fault I had taken the job, but he had been the tasty carrot on the stick I had been chasing.
When I’d announced that I was seeking a teaching position, Randall had reached out to me on social media.
At the time, I had been expecting a response from my old alma mater, the Divination Academy, and anticipating the start of the following school year.
Instead, it was Randall Page, my former classmate, who had contacted me and proposed I teach at the Wakefield School in Silverdale’s human sector.
Initially, I was not interested in the position, but I was intrigued by Randall.
Witches had a long history of snubbing warlocks, but Randall had always been the exception—not due to his skills as a magician, but because he was handsome, with honey-blond hair, hazel eyes, and an athletic build.
I’d been a year behind Randall in school and often ogled over him as the other girls in my grade had.
We hadn’t become fully acquainted until my junior exams, when he’d offered to tutor me. If it hadn’t been for Randall, I might not have graduated.
When Randall had reached out to me about the Wakefield position, he’d explained that he had been doing double duty, merging his class with Silvia’s. If the school could fill the position quickly, it would be a huge load off his shoulders.
Though witches were often reluctant to pay their debts, we did understand karmic backlash. I’d taken the job not only because I wanted to reciprocate his past kindness, but also because I hoped to grow closer to him.
I’d initially acted as if I was on the fence about accepting, stringing him along, so we would have more opportunities to engage. But even though I had previously thought that Randall had been just a crush, I soon found myself fully infatuated with him.
Even though I didn’t know much about human children, they didn’t need instruction in magic, and I was confident in my English and math skills. So, I’d accepted the job, hoping to take my relationship with Randall to the next level.
Now, I regretted my decision and felt ashamed for being so desperate. I couldn’t believe that I had placed myself in such a precarious position in hopes of snagging Randall Page.
I glared at Randall, who lifted his hands defensively, taken aback.
“I guess you’ve had a rough first day,” he ventured.
“That’s an understatement,” I muttered, turning away from him to resume my position.
Before I could bury my face into my hands and return to my safe cocoon, Randall said, “Why don’t you let me walk you home? We can talk about it.”
I pouted and gave him a reluctant look.
“Come on,” he said, tugging on my sleeve. “If you let me walk you home, I may reward you with a surprise.”
I wanted to rebuff him again, but the mention of a surprise intrigued me.
I allowed my eyes to fall to the fold of his pants that disguised his zipper and hoped that was where he was storing my prize.
