Chapter 4 Curses & Championships

T he sun beat down on the emerald expanse of the Grimm Mawr Academy field hockey field, glinting off the sleek carbon fiber sticks and the sheen of sweat on the players' brows. Coach Archie Hawthorne stood on the sidelines, whistle clenched between his teeth and a furrow of concentration creasing his brow as he watched his team run drills.

It was a balmy Saturday morning, the kind that seemed tailor-made for grueling training sessions and pre-game pep talks. With the state championship looming on the horizon, Archie was determined to whip his squad into fighting form. They had to be faster, stronger, more agile than ever before if they hoped to trounce those smug bastards from Why and Because.

And at the center of it all was Jezebel Nightshade, his star forward striker and the key to the Grimms' victory. The girl was a force of nature on the field, all lightning-quick reflexes and ruthless precision as she wove through the defense and sent shot after shot rocketing into the goal.

Archie felt swell of pride as he watched her play, even as a niggling sense of unease churned in his gut. He knew he was pushing Jezebel harder than ever, piling on extra practices and drilling her in complex offensive maneuvers until they both collapsed from exhaustion. But what choice did he have? The team needed her at the top of her game, needed her laser focus and raw talent if they hoped to make Grimm Mawr history.

And if that meant running afoul of a certain prickly potions professor with an overinflated sense of academic superiority, well...so be it.

Archie gritted his teeth as memories of his disastrous dinner with Minerva Everhart flooded his mind unbidden. Merlin's toenails, he'd really put his foot in it with that one. He'd gone into the evening hoping to smooth things over, to convince the stubborn witch to ease up on Jezebel's detentions in the name of school spirit and sporting glory.

But somewhere between the wine and the charged banter, he'd lost sight of his objective. Found himself getting swept up in the intoxicating push and pull of their dynamic, the thrill of verbally sparring with a woman who gave as good as she got. And remembering how he felt the first time he laid eyes on her back in high school. He had fallen head over heels in love with her then.

He couldn't help it. There was just something about Minerva that got under his skin in the best and worst ways. The way her eyes flashed behind those prim glasses when she was gearing up for a lecture, the quick wit and cutting intellect that left him tongue-tied and reeling. She was a challenge, a puzzle he longed to solve even as she infuriated him with her inflexible adherence to the rules.

And if he was being honest with himself, the physical attraction between them was undeniable. That bloody lust potion may have lowered their inhibitions, but the searing heat of her kisses, the perfect way her curves molded to his angles, that was all them. No magical interference necessary.

Archie groaned low in his throat, scrubbing a hand over his face as he recalled the hurt and betrayal in Minerva's eyes when she'd realized his ulterior motives. The accusation in her voice as she called him out for trying to manipulate her, for putting his own agenda above her principles.

She wasn't wrong. He had been trying to sway her, to use their budding connection as leverage in his campaign to keep Jezebel out of detention. But that didn't mean his feelings for Minerva were any less genuine, any less consuming.

He'd meant what he said about harboring a crush on her back in their school days. Minerva Everhart had always been an enigma to him, a fiery force of nature wrapped up in a prim and proper package. He'd longed to ruffle her feathers, to see what lay beneath that composed exterior.

And now that he finally had a chance to find out, he'd gone and mucked it all up with his own pigheadedness and poor timing. Typical Hawthorne, charging ahead without thinking things through.

He could practically hear his father's voice in his head, that gruff, disapproving baritone that had haunted him since childhood. "Too hotheaded for your own good, boy. Always letting your heart rule your head. You'll never amount to anything if you can't learn to control your impulses."

Archie shook off the phantoms of his past, focusing instead on the training session at hand. He couldn't afford to get lost in self-pity and regret, not when his team needed him focused and clear-headed.

He narrowed his eyes, watching as Jezebel streaked down the field towards the goal, deftly maneuvering around the defenders. She had a clear shot, the goalie out of position and off balance. It was the kind of setup she normally drilled straight into the back of the net without breaking a sweat.

But to Archie's shock and dismay, Jezebel fumbled the pass, her normally dexterous hands clumsy and uncoordinated. She took a wild, off-center swipe at the ball, sending it careening wide of the goal posts by a good ten feet.

The rest of the team skidded to a halt, exchanging worried looks as Jezebel stared at her stick in disbelief. This was the third such blunder in as many plays, each missed shot more egregious than the last.

Archie felt a cold trickle of dread down his spine. This wasn't like Jezebel at all. The girl was a machine, a prodigy who could score blindfolded and with one hand tied behind her back. To see her flailing like a first-year flying student was deeply unsettling.

Frowning, he blew his whistle sharply, signaling for a momentary halt in play. The team gathered around him, muttering amongst themselves and casting furtive glances at their star player. Jezebel, for her part, looked equal parts bewildered and furious, her mouth set in a hard line as she gripped her stick with white-knuckled intensity.

"All right, Nightshade, walk me through that last shot," Archie said, keeping his voice carefully neutral even as his mind raced with possibilities. Nerves? Overtraining? The yips? "What went wrong there?"

Jezebel huffed out a frustrated breath, blowing a strand of raven hair out of her face. "I don't know, Coach. It's like my hands just wouldn't cooperate. Like they were moving through molasses or something."

A murmur of unease rippled through the gathered players at her words. They all knew Jezebel's prowess on the pitch was unparalleled. For her to be struggling with basic motor control was unthinkable.

Archie chewed on the inside of his cheek, mind whirring as he tried to puzzle out this new development. Suddenly, a faint whiff of something acrid and sulphuric tickled his nostrils, making him wrinkle his nose in distaste.

Brimstone. The unmistakable calling card of dark magic.

His blood ran cold as realization slammed into him. This was no ordinary slump or case of nerves. Jezebel had been cursed. Someone had targeted his star player with magic meant to hamper her athletic abilities, to sabotage the Grimms' chance at victory.

But who would do such a thing? Who had the motive and the magical means to pull off a stunt like this?

“Does anyone else smell that?” Catalina Talisman asked, raising her hand timidly.

The team took deep sniffs and they all came to the same conclusion at once.

“It’s a curse!”

“Jezzie’s been cursed!”

“We’re doomed!”

"It was Everhart," Jezebel spat, her eyes flashing with barely contained rage. “She’s had it out for me since day one. She's always going on about how sports are a waste of time and energy, how we should be focusing on our studies instead.”

A ripple of angry agreement spread through the team as they latched onto Jezebel's theory. It made a twisted sort of sense. Minerva had made no secret of her disdain for the sports program, of her belief that the school placed too much emphasis on sports at the expense of academics. What better way to prove her point than by sabotaging their chances at the cup?

But even as the seeds of suspicion and resentment took root, Archie found himself hesitating. Would Minerva really resort to such underhanded tactics, to outright cheating in order to get her way? The woman was as stubborn as a hippogriff and twice as prickly, but she had a strict moral code. Cursing a student, even one she despised, seemed beneath her.

And yet, she had been awfully angry after their dinner, humiliated and lashing out like a wounded animal. Could her hurt feelings have driven her to seek revenge, to strike back at Archie in the most painful way possible?

He shook his head, trying to clear the doubts and recriminations swirling through his mind. He couldn't afford to jump to conclusions, not without hard evidence. He needed to approach this situation with a level head and an open mind.

"Listen up," he said, pitching his voice to be heard over the growing buzz of speculation. "I know tensions are running high right now, but we can't go throwing around accusations without proof. Jezebel, I want you to head to the infirmary, get checked out by Nurse Maelstorm. See if she can detect any traces of dark magic or hexes."

Jezebel opened her mouth to argue, but Archie cut her off with a stern look. "That's an order, Nightshade. The rest of you, hit the showers. We'll reconvene tomorrow to discuss our next steps."

The team dispersed, muttering darkly amongst themselves as they slouched off towards the locker rooms. Archie watched them go, a heavy weight settling in his chest. This was a nightmare scenario, the kind of scandal that could tear the school apart and ruin Minerva's reputation irreparably.

He refused to believe she was capable of something so vindictive and short-sighted. There had to be another explanation, another culprit waiting to be unmasked. And he was going to get to the bottom of it, even if it meant butting heads with a certain alluring and infuriating potions mistress.

Archie strode off the field. If dark magic was afoot at Grimm Mawr Academy, he'd be damned if he let it derail his team's shot at glory. Or his own chance at something real with Minerva Everhart.

As he made his way back to the academy, Archie couldn't shake the memory of her lips against his, the intoxicating softness of her hair beneath his fingers. The lust potion may have stripped away their inhibitions, but the attraction crackling between them was all too real.

He wanted her, both body and mind. Wanted to unravel the enigma of Minerva Everhart and see what lay beneath that prickly exterior. One way or another, he would get to the bottom of this curse business. And maybe, just maybe, he'd find a way to mend the rift between him and Minerva in the process.