by A C Spahn
“You think she saw something.” I fingered the button. “Something like this.”
“Darker than that. She was shaken up. Whatever she saw, it disturbed her. She told me she was going to find out the truth. Since then she’s withdrawn more and more. When she does talk, it’s about the crazy people she’s found on the internets. People who talk about becoming vampires and trying to attract magical currents.”
“Seekers,” I said, feeling a chill. “We call them Seekers.”
Mrs. Jacinta nodded, wringing her hands. “She’s being drawn into that world, and it’s not good for her. I want you to talk to her, find out what she’s up to, who’s been influencing her. Guide her back to the right path.”
I sighed. “I’m in trouble with some magical folks myself right now. I may not be the best person to help.”
“I’ll pay you. Anything you want.”
The offer made my knees weak. I caught myself on the wall. This could be the solution to my money problems all at once.
Staring into Mrs. Jacinta’s hopeful face, though, I knew I couldn’t accept. Preying on the desperate. That was what fleshwriters did. I would not become like them, even indirectly.
“Don’t worry,” I said softly. “I’ll talk to your student.”
“Thank you.” She dug in her purse and pulled out a tissue. And her wallet.
“No, you don’t have to pay me.”
“I insist.” She pressed a folded bill into my palm and locked eyes with me. “I believe in miracles, Adrienne, but I also believe in demons. If you’re facing some now, I want you to take care of yourself.”
My throat caught. “Thank you,” I managed.
She gave me a wan smile. “Samantha comes to our church’s Saturday tutoring program. She’ll be there tomorrow. Breath of Life Community Church.”
“I’ll stop by.”
As she slipped back into the dining area, I opened my palm and looked at the wrinkled bill. She’d given me a hundred dollars. Touched, I smoothed the money and tucked it into my pocket.
She’d given me ten percent of what I needed to pay off the Void Union. Now all I had to do was come up with the rest, figure out what had Desmond so jumpy about this enchantress attacking people, evade Bane Harrow and Maribel, and steer a misguided teenager away from the forces of evil. All without drawing too much attention to myself so my cult wouldn’t find me.
Well. At least I’d already paid the rent.
Chapter 17
BREATH OF LIFE Community Church had little in common with the steepled and gilded cathedrals I pictured when imagining houses of worship. It was a converted warehouse, entered through one of those roll-up metal doors. Outside, a plain wooden cross stood next to an a-frame sign with the church’s name and a stylized gust of wind. The font work and artistry on the sign looked nice. One of their volunteers must be a graphic designer.
Inside I passed a little cafe area with bistro tables and metal folding chairs. The floor was concrete, with colorful rugs. Hanging signs pointed the way to the bathrooms, kids area, library, and auditorium. I headed to the kids area, which turned out to be a series of large rooms. The one for teens was set up like an amphitheater, with carpeted seating surrounding a small central circle. Students sat or sprawled on the tiers, propping computers and textbooks on lap desks. Tutors stood scattered around the room, assisting students who signaled their attention. Whispered conversations went on here and there, but for the most part the room had a studious atmosphere.
Mrs. Jacinta spotted me from halfway up the amphitheater. She slowly descended the stairs and came smiling to meet me. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”
“I can’t promise anything, but I’ll do my best,” I told her. “Which student is it?”
Mrs. Jacinta pointed to a girl on the second-to-highest step, tucked away in the corner where the seating met the wall. Her dirty-blonde hair hung to chin level and hid her face. She sat hunched over a textbook, a small tablet propped on her knee, note-taking stylus in hand. She wore ripped black jeans and high-top sneakers, and dozens of dark-colored bracelets bedecked her wrists. I guessed her shoelaces were glow-in-the-dark, from the odd sheen they had. I liked her immediately.
“Anything I should know?” I asked quietly.
Mrs. Jacinta shook her head. “I’ve told you the important parts. Samantha hasn’t opened up to me very much, so I hope she’ll talk to you.”
Nodding, I took a deep breath and headed up the carpeted steps.
When my shadow fell on Samantha’s chemistry textbook, she looked up, startled. I had a brief moment to glance at a pencil sketch of a dress atop a paragraph about chemical combustion before she slammed the book shut. “Can I help you?” she asked guardedly.
I sat on the step next to her. “I’m Adrienne.”
A small pucker formed between her brows as she gave me a double-take. To her credit, she didn’t ask the question most other people did after I introduced myself. “I know it’s not a Latina name,” I said. “My great-grandmother was French. I’m named after her. I’m here because I’m friends with Mrs. Jacinta.”
Samantha studied my orange paint-spatter shirt, cutoff jeans and assorted jewelry before glancing at Mrs. Jacinta in her more conservative attire. “That’s surprising.”
“She buys art from me.”
“You’re an artist?”
I smiled and held up my left hand, displaying a leather bracelet studded with chips of scrap metal. “Looks like you are, too,” I said, nodding to the corner of sketch paper sticking out of the textbook.
She flushed and tucked the paper fully into the book. “What do you want?”
I saw no reason to mislead this girl, and I doubted she’d be fooled by any small talk I might attempt anyway. “Mrs. J says you’ve been talking about magic.”
Samantha rolled her eyes. “She’s making a big deal out of nothing.”
“Oh?”
“I just asked some questions.”
“What kind of questions were you asking, Samantha?”
“Call me Sam.” She gave me an appraising look. “Are you a therapist? Because I told her I don’t need one.”
I laughed. “No. I’m just an artist. And someone with some knowledge about the arcane.”
“Really.” Sarcasm dripped from her voice.
“Really.”
“All right. If you know so much, what’s the difference between a poltergeist and a banshee?”
“A poltergeist is a ghost who physically affects the place they’re haunting, throwing things around and making noises. A banshee is supposed to be a spirit who wails near places where someone is going to die, but they don’t actually exist.”
Sam’s eyebrows rose. “Banshees don’t exist.”
“No.”
“But poltergeists?”
I gave her a knowing smile.
Sam took a careful look around, then lowered her voice. “What are you?”
“Let me show you.” I held out a hand toward her sketch.
Wordlessly, she pulled the sketch out of the textbook and passed it to me. It was really quite good, with accurate proportions and some nice interplay between highlights and shadows on the folds of the gown. I lay the sketch between us and set her pencil so its point rested on the edge of the sketch, its eraser hanging over the side of the page.
I drew in a teeny amount of magic, then blew air onto the pencil’s eraser. Move, I chanted, focusing the magic on the flowing air. Dance for our eyes. Be blown in invisible wind.
The magic absorbed the air’s movement and channeled through the pencil. I would have liked to use a less rigid channel, but I didn’t want to risk starting a fire, and wood was a pretty safe conductor of magic. So long as it wasn’t too dry or brittle, anyway.
When the magic hit the sketch, flowing out through the point of the pencil, the gown began to move, its skirt billowing as if caught in the wind. Sam gasped. The magic ran out a second later and the sketch went still, but it had been enough.
As Sam turned to look at me with wide, shining eyes, I knew I had her hooked.
“Ask me what you want to know,” I said quietly.
Sam stuttered for a moment. “I don’t know where to start. There’s so much.”
“You told Mrs. J you saw something that sparked your curiosity about the arcane. Start there. What was it?”
“I think ... I think it was a werewolf.” Sam adjusted herself so she sat on her knees, like an eager pupil. “I was walking home from the convenience store and this guy started following me. I looked back at him a couple times and he didn’t get any closer, but he also didn’t back off. I usually cut through the neighbor’s backyard to get to my building, but there’s lots of trees and bushes and it’s super dark so I didn’t think it would be a good idea. I turned a corner and then hid in a doorway, to see if I could get a look at him when he went by, you know? Well, he comes along, and I look at his face, and he’s got fangs. Like, mountain lion fangs. Huge.”
The reference to mountain lions reminded me of Maribel. I shifted uncomfortably. “Anything else?”
“No. But isn’t that enough? He obviously wasn’t a normal guy. When he didn’t see me he started sniffing, like he was tracking me. I broke off and ran, and he didn’t follow.”
I nodded. “The sniffing means he was probably either a shifter or a werebeast. The fangs could have meant vampire, or any number of other things.”
“So it’s real? All of it?”
“Not all of it. Most myths are just that—mythical. But some of it is true.”
“And you, you’re a ...?”
“Enchantress. We channel magic. The other paranormals you see exist because of enchanters.”
“How did you make the dress move? Are there specific words you say, or—”
“No.” I gave her a small smile. “I know you’re curious, but the reason I’m talking to you isn’t just to answer your questions. Mrs. J says you’ve been talking to people online, getting involved in communities where people try to learn more about magic.”
She nodded. “I didn’t know where else to turn.”
“We call people like them Seekers. Those who seek out magic, try to become part of the paranormal world.”
“I saw that word a few times.”
“They’re dangerous,” I said.
“No, they’re not. Most of them are super nice, really encouraging.”
“They encourage you to look for ways to interact with the arcane. That’s a very dangerous thing to do. Hunters and predators use those kinds of forums to search for prey, and I’m not just talking about the things that would eat you. Plenty of enchanters would use you, storing magic in you or channeling it through you for practice. You don’t want to end up that way.”
Sam flinched. “But what if—”
“I’m not trying to shut down your curiosity,” I said. “I’m going to give you my contact information, and you can ask me anything you want. But don’t become a Seeker, and don’t go looking for other paranormals. It’s not a world you want to enter if you can avoid it.”
“What if I’m already in it?” Defiance crept back into her tone.
I studied her. “You mean more than being stalked by a werewolf?”
She looked away and fidgeted with one of her bracelets, a thick band of black plastic.
Wordlessly, I held out my hand. She hesitated, then popped the bracelet off and set it in my palm.
KADUM. KADUM. KADUM.
I dropped it like it had burned me. “This is enchanted.”
Sam snatched the bracelet and reattached it to her wrist. “It just makes me a little faster. So if I see a werewolf again, I can run.”
“Where did you get it?”
Her fingers twitched. “I bought it.”
“Oh yeah? From whom?”
“Did you really just say ‘whom’?”
“Don’t try to change the subject. Who gave you that bracelet, Sam?” My muscles were tense, ready for a fight. If she got this jewelry where I think she got it, I may have just found a link to my vanishing enchantress.
She shook her head. “I don’t know them.”
“You have to tell me.”
“I really don’t know.”
Since she was so fascinated by my magical abilities, I decided to use that to my advantage. Putting on a look of intense focus, I held my palm out in front of me, flat, as if I still had the bracelet in hand. “It came ... from out in the farmlands ...” I said in a dreamy voice.
Sam jumped. Her mouth parted in shock. “How ...?”
“You went to an abandoned ranch ...”
“Stop it.”
“There was a cellar ...”
“Stop!”
I dropped the act. “Tell me the rest.”
She eyed me. “All the message boards said you could pay someone to make enchantments for you. I wanted one, that’s all.”
“How much did you pay?”
“I, uh ...”
I remembered the enchantress’s jewelry display in the cellar, the ring of dust in the shape of a missing bracelet. “You stole it, didn’t you?”
Her face flushed.
I sighed and held out my hand again. “Give it to me.”
“It’s mine.”
“Magic can have unintended side effects, and the person who made that has proven to be dangerous.”
“Dangerous?”
“They’ve killed people, Sam.”
Her face paled. “They have? Who?”
“Those better prepared for a fight than you. Give me the bracelet. It’s for your own good.”
With a petulant huff, she slid off the bracelet and tossed it to me. “Fine.”
I tucked it in my pocket, then pulled out one of my crafting business cards from my wallet. “Stay away from the Seekers, Sam. If anyone tries to talk to you about magic or promises you anything magical, tell me first. I’ll watch out for you.”
“I don’t need supervision. My dad doesn’t care where I go.”
She said it with practiced indifference, but I saw the subtle rise in her chin, the tension in her shoulders, as if daring me to call out her father’s neglect. For a moment I saw myself, one year out of the cult, struggling to come off as an adult and not a lonely, scared girl.
I softened my tone. “Mrs. Jacinta cares about you, Sam. So do I. We want to help you. But you have to let us.”
Her jaw clenched. Then her shoulders drooped. She ducked her head so her hair shielded her face. “I won’t go on the message boards anymore.”
“Thank you.”
“And I’ll tell you if I run into any more paranormals.”
“Good.” I stood up, feeling the bracelet in my pocket like a weight. “Trust me, Sam, you’ll be glad you didn’t get any deeper into this. Mrs. J says you’re a good student. Keep studying, keep drawing. Make a life for yourself. It may seem like nobody cares what you do, but success is the best way to prove them wrong.”
She smiled faintly. “Thanks.”
I turned to go.
“Adrienne?”
I looked over my shoulder. Sam was watching me, but after a moment she ducked her head again. “Never mind. Thank you.”
“Keep in touch,” I said. “If you’re still interested in the supernatural, I can tell you a lot. But in a safe way, without tangling with the things in the dark.”
She nodded and opened her chemistry textbook, returning to the page about combustion.
I trotted down the stairs, each step resonating as magic gathered in the air.
Kadum.
Kadum.
KADUM.
Chapter 18
“YOU SHOULD TELL DESMOND,” Kendall said, studying the bracelet on my crafting table. She sat on the empty counter in the darkened store. The only light came from the lamp over my table and a string of Christmas lights strung from the overhead wooden beams where I displayed my work.
I leaned against the wall, arms folded, glaring at the black plastic band. It had no embellishm
ents, but there was a subtle brushwork effect texturing the shiny surface. “If I tell Desmond, he’ll tell the Union.”
“You don’t know that.”
“He’ll have to. He’s under their thumb. They know where he lives, where he works, what his social security number is, how much money he has and where he keeps it. Groups like this invade every aspect of your life, so they can better control you. If he hides something like this from them, they’ll make his life a living hell.” I could see doubt lingering in Kendall’s face. “Trust me. I know about this sort of thing.”
She shrugged. “Okay. Top secret mission Creepy Bracelet is now under way. What do we do?”
“I’m going to take the magic out.”
“And I’m here so you don’t blow yourself up in the process?”
“Basically.” I pushed off from the wall and stood over the crafting table. My tools were here, my crafting supplies organized and accessible. And if I didn’t have what I needed in my toolboxes, Kendall could probably find it in the store. This was as safe a way to disenchant the bracelet as possible.
It didn’t make my stomach flutter any less.
“All right,” I said. “Let’s do this.”
Letting my fingers rest on the bracelet, I sucked in a breath, and with it, the magic inside.
KADUMKADUMKADUMKADUM
Skittish, the magic fluttered in me, skipping aside when I tried to take hold of it. It was fearful magic, tense and flighty, the magic of running away. At least the enchantment was actually doing what Sam thought it was, and not something more sinister. But it was going to be a pain to channel. I tried to take hold of it, to gather all the magic back together and sift through the impressions left on it. Only flashes came to me. The barn, the bracelet, Sam’s frightened face. I struggled to contain the magic, to force it to stand still and show me something more concrete. The enchantress’s face, I thought. Show me her face. Her face, her face.