Bryony scrambled into action, gathering the children and herding them away to a safe distance, counting students as she went to see that all were accounted for.
"I don't have Phoebe!" Bryony called. "She's not here!"
Hazel quickly scanned the school grounds.
There was Phoebe, at the edge of the meadow. Far enough away that Hazel wasn't worried about her. But she wasn't paying attention to the commotion either which meant she was focused on something else.
Hazel drew her wand from the waistband of her skirt and spread her arms wide to cast a dampening spell. This wasn't the first time a magical fire had lit up the schoolhouse. Spells, hexes, and charms went wrong all the time during lessons.
To make sure the schoolhouse remained standing, Hazel had placed wards throughout the walls and eaves, small black marks tucked here and there for protection.
But the scent of smoke would have to be purged from the schoolhouse for days with consistent magic. And if the fire wasn't tamed, it could spread to other houses, farms, and businesses that weren't protected with wards.
Magic crackled in the air like lightning. With a thunderous rumble, the fire dwindled down to a small spark beneath Hazel's spell then fizzled out completely.
With wand still in hand, Hazel approached Phoebe and touched her shoulder.
Phoebe startled and whipped around.
Spread across the ground was a small altar, complete with a quartz crystal at the center, blackened lines of ash in a pentagram on the ground, and match sticks lined up, three in a row.
"I don't appreciate that you set my schoolhouse on fire, Phoebe," Hazel said.
"Are you going to tell my daddy?" Phoebe demanded, chin tilted up in a defiant angle.
"I certainly should. What you did was dangerous and could have hurt a lot people."
"I was careful."
"That fire was nearly out of your control."
Phoebe crossed her arms. "If you punish me, my daddy won't like you anymore."
Hazel blinked, taken aback at the matter-of-fact tone of Phoebe's voice, the bald-faced truth she so succinctly delivered. Phoebe was purposefully sabotaging Hazel, not just because she hated her as a schoolteacher but because Phoebe wanted to keep Hazel away from Nick.
"I'm your teacher, Phoebe," Hazel said. "And your behavior was unacceptable. It's my job to ensure you get an education in magic. That has nothing to do with my relationship between your father and I. Now, this weekend, you will help scrub the schoolhouse clean of smoke and soot."
Phoebe looked insulted. "But that's not fair!"
"It's perfectly fair."
Hazel reached down and plucked Phoebe's wand from her hand.
"And you will clean the schoolhouse without any form of magic at your command," she added.
Phoebe's face settled in a smooth mask of smugness.
"Daddy's going to hate you for this," she said coolly.
Hazel turned away, her stomach sinking.
***
Nick had barely parked his truck before he was out and moving toward the schoolhouse in long strides. His face was tense, shoulders a straight, rigid line of worry.
He headed straight for where Hazel and Phoebe stood next to the schoolhouse. He scooped up Phoebe, enveloping her in his arms, eyes closed with a sigh of relief.
"Are you hurt?" he said.
He pulled away, brushing Phoebe's hair back from her forehead. His hand cupped her cheek, tilting her head to get a better look at her.
"I'm okay, Daddy," she said, nuzzling into Nick's neck. "Can we go home now?"
Nick placed a hand against Phoebe's back.
"In a minute, sweetheart," he said. His gaze shifted up to Hazel. "I need to talk to your teacher. Get a few things cleared up."
Hazel straightened her spine, preparing herself for the ensuing conflict.
Daddy's going to hate you for this.
Nick put Phoebe down on the ground, one hand resting on her shoulder.
"So," he said. "I'm still not really sure what happened here. You said Phoebe set the schoolhouse on fire?"
"She's a liar, Daddy," Phoebe said, tugging on the hem of his shirt.
Nick rested his hand atop her head.
"Phoebe, why don't you go wait in the car for me?" he said.
Phoebe turned to stare up at him, her eyes wide and wounded that he wasn't immediately taking her word for it regarding Hazel's trustworthiness.
"Now," Nick said, pointing to the truck.
Phoebe stomped to the truck, climbed in, and slammed the door shut. Nick sighed and scrubbed the back of his neck.
"All right," he said. "Tell me everything."
Hazel recounted the spell Phoebe had conjured to start the fire. She handed over Phoebe's wand.
"Being without her wand won't stop her from doing magic," Hazel said. "But it will lessen the damage she can cause."
Nick accepted the wand, rolling it over in his fingers. He shook his head.
"Ever since I told her that she'd be starting school this year," he said. "She's been raising hell. She thinks I'm abandoning her or something."
"Many children feel that way. Phoebe will get used to it. In the meantime, this behavior cannot go unpunished. I'll need her to help me clean up the school over the weekend."
Nick raised his eyebrows. "Is that really necessary?"
Hazel didn't respond right away. She'd seen this before—parents enamored with their children to the point of blindness, wearing a shroud of denial and excuses for their children's wrong-doing. It was always a sticky situation to handle, even more so now that she was dealing with Nick.
"Mr. Butler," Hazel said as carefully as she could. "Phoebe is a bright young witch. What she is capable of with her magic, at such an early age, is impressive. But that is all the more reason why I have to teach her now that magic is not something to be used for violence and destruction. There are consequences for her actions."
"Yes," Nick said. "Yes, absolutely. I understand. I just..." He glanced over his shoulder at the truck. Phoebe was staring at him through the windshield, arms crossed, chin lowered in a pout. "I had hoped to handle that part on my own. But you're right. She'll be here first thing on Saturday morning."
Hazel released a slow exhale of relief. She'd been prepared for a fight on her hands. But it seemed Nick was willing to listen to reason more than she gave him credit for.
"And I would recommend that you lock up Phoebe's wand for the weekend as well," Hazel said. "She'll be cleaning the schoolhouse with plain soap and water. No magic."
Nick let out a low whistle. "I'm glad I didn't have you for a teacher when I was growing up. The face of an angel but tough as nails underneath."
Hazel's breath stuttered. The face of an angel...
Oh no. She had to end it here and now.
"Mr. Butler," Hazel said, glancing down at her hands. "There's something else we need to discuss."
Nick edged another step closer.
"Yes, there is," he said. He dropped his voice lower, so only Hazel could hear, despite the shout of children in the background as they were released for the day or picked up by their parents. "Are you all right?"
Hazel's gaze darted up to Nick's face. His brown eyes were soft, shadowed with concern. Standing this close to him, she could smell the sharp scent of his aftershave. His faded blue t-shirt clung to his shoulders a little too snuggly, making her fingers itch to reach out and touch him, to feel the heat of his skin through that thin fabric...
"I'm fine," Hazel rasped. "No harm done."
She told herself to move, to take a step back and distance herself. But all she wanted to do was lean into him.
Nick raised his hand and brushed his knuckles along her cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of her chin.
"You had a little bit of ash there," he whispered.
But his hand remained where it was and he didn't pull away, even though the ash must have been long gone by now.
Hazel swallowed and dropped her gaze. Nick bowed his head and finally let his hand drop.
"I'd better get going," he said as he backed up, never taking his gaze away from her.
Hazel pressed her hand to her cheek where Nick had touched, the lingering heat of his skin still burning with warmth like a fire she couldn't extinguish.