Enchantress Undercover

by A C Spahn

  KADUMKADUMkadumkadumKADUM

  Kendall pressed the empty beer bottle into my hand. I slammed it onto the table beside the faerie, then focused the magic. It was skittish, hard to grasp, darting in and out, pecking me then retreating. I breathed slowly, concentrating, waiting for the magic to come close and then drawing it in. When I’d gathered most of it, I focused it on the wooden carving. Faerie shape, take illusory form. Be a shadow in glass, a dancing mirage. I used the wire rack as a channel and sent the magic into the bottle.

  kadum … kadum … kadum …

  My shoulders relaxed. A few people at nearby booths stared at me, but Kendall shouted something about heat exhaustion and waved them off. I glanced at the beer bottle. Something moved inside it. An ephemeral figure slid through the glass, visible for a fraction of a second before fleeing when I tried to look too close. A tiny, capering faerie, just like the carving I still clutched in my other hand.

  Kendall studied it over my shoulder. “You made a faerie in a bottle? That’s kind of offensive, isn’t it?”

  “The fae aren’t real,” I said. I pressed the bottle and carving into her hands. “Hold those.”

  “Wha—where are you going?”

  “No time to explain. Don’t let that bottle break, or the magic will get loose again.”

  Kendall’s protests faded behind me as I ran down the dirt path. Crafting booths flanked me on both sides, and curious artists watched me sprint past. I paid them no mind, instead reaching out with my senses, trying to find another source of magic like the one that had just assaulted me.

  The magic had been fickle, teasing. Tiny fragments instead of a solid wave. That had only happened to me a few times before, when I was first learning to enchant. When my enchantments were poorly constructed and let magic bleed off.

  Someone had enchanted something nearby, and had done a poor job of it.

  The enchantress was here, in the park or just outside it.

  Booths blurred by, a never-ending stream of paintings, embroidery, sculpture, and floral arrangements. Colors of every hue and tint formed a loud backdrop to my search. Come on, I thought. Where are you?

  kadum … kadum … kadum …

  The park’s ambient magic drummed along serenely, a steady beat. No one was gathering it. Also no sign of the strange bleed-off magic I had sensed earlier. Wherever the enchantress was, she’d already dealt with the magic assaulting her, and wasn’t currently using more. I wouldn’t be able to sense her whereabouts unless she performed another enchantment. By the time she needed to do so, I guessed she’d be long gone.

  I cursed, then turned to trot back to the Crafter’s Haven booth.

  At a table to my left, a woman moaned.

  I froze. Slowly I pivoted toward her table, trying to keep my movements casual while still taking a good look at her. She was in her late twenties, a little older than me. Mousy brown hair, dark grey eyes, with a pleasantly round face. She was grimacing, her elbows propped on a table displaying a dozen still life paintings.

  Deciding to take a risk, I sidled up to her table. “Are you okay?”

  She squinted up at me. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be dramatic. I think I’m getting a migraine. My head just started hurting suddenly.”

  “Do you get migraines?”

  “No. But what else could it be?”

  What else indeed. There was one way to know for sure. On the pretense of helping the woman relax, I touched her bare hand.

  No drumming. No buzzing.

  She wasn’t enchanted. And she probably wasn’t my enchantress.

  Puzzled, I sucked in some of the nearby magic, enough to feel it buzz but not enough to hurt.

  kadumkadumkadumkadum

  “Ugh.” The woman dropped her head into her hands again. “There it goes again.”

  I removed my hand from her skin. “Do you want some water?”

  “No ... no, it’s getting better now. Thanks.” She squinted at me, shading her eyes from the sun. “Are you a vendor here?”

  I pointed up the aisle. “Crafter’s Haven. We’re a supply store, but I do my own art, too.”

  “Fun. I’ll have to come look at your supplies.”

  A chilly voice spoke behind me. “Is this a friend of yours?”

  I turned. Maribel stood there with a painted-on smile. Her teeth gleamed. “Aren’t you going to introduce me, Adrienne?”

  I glared daggers at her as I put on my own fake smile. “Just recruiting new business for the store. That’s all.” I certainly wasn’t about to tell Maribel that this woman was a minor enchantress, able to sense magical stirrings. If the poor painter never had to deal with the Voids, she’d be a lucky woman.

  The woman offered to sell Maribel a painting, but Maribel was more interested in following me as I made my way back to Haven’s booth. “You got Desmond. What do you want now?” I growled.

  “You ran off suddenly there. And it looked like you did some magic.”

  “A sudden wave of it hit me. I had to channel it, or risk going insane. You want to make necessary magic illegal now, too?”

  “If only I could. Why did you run away afterward? Afraid of justice finding you?”

  I stopped and glowered at her. “I had to throw up, and I didn’t want to do it in our booth. You want me to show you where I puked? Let you sniff around in it?”

  Anger flared in Maribel’s eyes. She shoved me so I staggered back a pace. “Watch yourself, witch.”

  “You seem to be doing a good enough job watching already. Maybe you should be harassing Desmond instead. Or did he get away from you again?”

  Maribel’s fingers curled.

  “Go on,” I hissed. “Shift, right here, in front of all the normals. I bet Bane Harrow would love that. His star Hunter, being the one to expose the paranormal world.”

  Her hands shook.

  Then they relaxed.

  She pointed at me. “This isn’t over.”

  “Goody. I hate abrupt endings.”

  With a snarl, she whirled and stormed off down the aisle.

  Suddenly exhausted, I made my way back to the Crafter’s Haven booth. Kendall waved the beer bottle at me. “This is neat! The faerie hides whenever I try to get a good look at her. It’s like having a magical pet, without the responsibility.”

  “Glad the product of my pain entertains you.” I slumped into my chair.

  Kendall frowned, then slid the bottle under the other seat, where it couldn’t be stepped on. “What happened?”

  I told her all of it, from the wave of skittish magic to my encounter with Maribel. “I was so close,” I said. “If I could have been faster—”

  “You would have started a magical battle in the middle of the park in broad daylight. Not a smart move.” Kendall tapped a finger on top of my head.

  I brushed her hand away. “I know. It wasn’t my brightest moment. Hopefully this doesn’t ruin the entire day.”

  “That’s up to you, girl. Put on a smile. I think we have company.”

  I looked up. A teenager with chin-length blonde hair was standing in the middle of our three tables, clutching a sketchbook to her chest.

  “Sam!” I said, brightening. “What are you doing here?”

  She blushed. “I came to look at art supplies, and when I got the map of the festival I saw you had a booth. I thought I’d come say hi.”

  “Is that your art?” I asked, nodding to the book.

  Her flush deepened. “Oh. Yes, but, I mean, you don’t need to look at it.”

  “No, I could use a distraction.” I held out my hands. Reluctantly Sam handed the book over.

  I flipped through pencil sketches of gowns, both ornate and simple. There was a page of just eyes, and a page of hands. Rough outlines of faces. Charcoal drawings of swords, with their names and the movies they came from listed beneath. A colored pencil drawing of a red dragon wheeling in mid-flight, flames spouting from its mouth. Another of an open book with runic writing. A wizard dueling some sort of black-winge
d monster on a bridge in a cave. A woman in an open-backed gown with a magical orb in her hand, her expression forlorn.

  “These are good,” I said, flipping back to the drawing of the dragon. “Really good.”

  Sam brightened. “You think so?”

  “Where did you learn this?”

  “Just practice, mostly. Sometimes I look up tutorials online. I took the art class at my high school, but it was pretty basic stuff.”

  “You should keep drawing. At this rate, you could make a career out of it.”

  A smile spread on Sam’s face. “Thank you.”

  I closed the book and handed it back to her. “Thanks for letting me see.”

  She hugged the book to her chest again and lowered her voice. “If it’s all right, I wanted to ask you another question.”

  “Of course.” I herded her toward the back of the booth, where certain mountain lion shifters couldn’t sneak up on us. “What is it?”

  “You said it’s dangerous to get enchanted. Is that because of the magic running through you, or ...?”

  “Not exactly. When magic runs through you, it’s called being a channel. That hurts, but living people can contain a lot of magic. Being a channel can kill you, but it would take a huge amount of power. The dangerous part is when the enchantment is put on you. If it’s done wrong ...”

  “It drives you crazy?”

  “Yes. Or worse. The more enchantments on someone, the more precise future enchantments have to be, so the more things can go wrong. Same thing for being the enchantment’s channel and target at the same time. The more involved you are with the magic, the more dangerous it gets.” I sighed. “Please tell me you’re not still considering becoming a Seeker.”

  Her cheeks colored. “I just thought if I was careful—”

  “No, Sam. There is no careful. You promised me you wouldn’t keep looking into this. Please keep that promise.”

  Her chin dropped to her book. “Okay.”

  I tried to smile. “I’m sorry. I’ve had a long day. I don’t mean to take it out on you.”

  She swallowed. “If it’s okay, can I ask one more thing?”

  I nodded.

  “The way you made my drawing move ... would you show me again? On this one?” She opened the sketchbook to the picture of the flying dragon.

  My smile became genuine. “I would love to.”

  Sam’s visit was the start of a good day of art and business. I sold a few dozen pieces. After taxes and the cost of supplies, they netted me almost three hundred dollars. Added to the hundred from Mrs. Jacinta, I was over a third of the way toward paying my fine to the Union.

  Desmond didn’t come back to the booth, and when I called him he irritably told me and Kendall to pack up and go home. He’d get a ride later from someone in the Union. My heart felt heavier as Kendall and I loaded everything back into her truck, but I tried to think positively. I had a lead on the enchantress, and money in my wallet. Neither problem was solved, but I was making progress. That had to count for something.

  Kendall and I unloaded everything at the store, leaving Desmond’s woodwork in the back for him to sort out the next day. He wouldn’t mind either of us touching his work, but I considered it a professional courtesy not to handle other people’s art more than necessary. Even if they were ham-handed troglodytes. I grinned. I’d have to use that one on Desmond next time I saw him.

  Worry set in as I rehung my unsold pieces. What if the enchantress had seen me chasing her through the fair? What if I’d spooked her, and now she’d run away and never be found? What if Maribel managed to convince others that it had been me all along? What if, what if, what if. Questions pounded in my brain, as unnerving as magic on my skin.

  Kendall stopped by my workspace after she restocked the supplies from the fair. “I’m beat. Want to get coffee? My treat. My scholarship just came in for next quarter. I have to stop by That Place on the Corner first, though. I left my wallet there again.”

  “Thanks, but I should probably work. I just sold most of my pieces, and I still need to come up with more money.”

  “Your loss.” Kendall hopped over the counter and headed for the door. “By the way, you should probably hide that haunted pinwheel you made. Shoppers will flip their shit if they think you can make perpetual motion machines.”

  “It’s not a—”

  “I know. Geez, Adrienne, relax.” She cocked her head. “You sure you don’t want coffee? You could use a break.”

  I shook my head. “I’m fine. Just a little wound up.” I forced a smile. “Go on. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  With a shrug and a sympathetic grin, Kendall let herself out. She locked the door behind her, then shook it to make sure it stayed shut. The bells over the door jingled with the force of her yanking. I kept an eye on her until she made it to her truck.

  My enchanted pinwheel went into a box under the counter, alongside a few other products of enchantment. A box of beads suspended halfway between solid and liquid. A picture frame that would never need dusting. A permanent marker that smelled perpetually of bacon. I’d been a little drunk when I made that last one.

  I collected the wooden cube and other items Kendall had brought me from the store yesterday and carried them to the register, where I dumped them in the basket of go-backs to be returned to the shelves. Cleanup finished, I returned to my workspace and contemplated what sort of art to make. I didn’t have a lot of clothing on my display beam right now, so I headed out into the store, picking up t-shirts, dye, embroidery thread, zippers, and metal grommets. The tags went to one side so Desmond could add the items to my supplies tab, and I lost myself in work.

  After a few hours I had made solid progress on half a dozen shirts, cutting and sewing to redesign their silhouettes. I had a good amount of hemming to do before I could start decorating them, though, and my hands were starting to feel sluggish. Time to call it a night. Besides, it was a full moon tonight, and the restaurants down the shopping center were likely to start getting rowdy if I stayed much later.

  As I let myself out into the parking lot, I eyed the alleyway next to the pet store. No glowing eyes. No moving shadows. I made it halfway to my car before a gleam of light from the alley froze me in my tracks. Feline eyes reflected the full moon. Huge amber eyes, with irises round for the hunt.

  I swallowed. My car was alone in the parking lot. The closest people were at the other end of the center, surrounded by noise and music. A hell of a lot could happen down here, and no one would notice. My hand tightened around my purse, inching toward my enchanted jewelry within. “Hello, Maribel,” I said with as much bravado as I could muster.

  The eyes receded into the darkness. A moment later, Maribel emerged from the alley, dressed in covert-ops black. She made no effort to hide the gun tucked inside her jacket, nor the knife folded in her pocket. “Thought you’d be home after your long day. What are you doing out so late?”

  “Working.”

  “On what?”

  “None of your business.”

  “Your suspicious activity is my business. I’m your Union handler.”

  Oh goody. I supposed I had Bane Harrow to thank for that. Just another tactic to push me into working for him. I sighed. “I was making new pieces for my shop. Since you people want a bunch of my money, I have to earn it somehow.”

  She stalked over to me, eying my purse. “Drop the bag and turn out your pockets.”

  “I don’t have to—”

  She stepped close, her face inches from mine. “Give me a reason to fight you,” she hissed. “This isn’t the park. Nobody’s around. Any reason. No matter how small, I’ll take it. I’ll bury you.”

  Magic danced in the air, cavorting in the moonlight. I let it skate across my skin, felt it waiting to obey my will. “We don’t know for sure how that fight would go.”

  “I would love to find out.”

  I seriously considered attacking, giving her the magical battle she wanted. If I struck first, I was fairly
sure I could cripple her before she could shift. But Desmond’s warning echoed in my mind. If I harmed Maribel, even in self-defense, I would have the Union hunting me the rest of my likely short life.

  It took all of my willpower, but I set down my bag and emptied my pockets. I prayed a silent thanks that I had left the pinwheel in the store. No need to explain what it was or where I’d gotten the magic for it.

  Maribel poked through my things, including Sam’s disenchanted bracelet. “I don’t know what you’re looking for,” I said, “but there aren’t any eyes of newt or toes of frog in there.”

  She shot me a glare. “I’m looking for evidence.”

  “There’s none of that, either.” At least, not anymore.

  “You’ve made a mistake somewhere, enchantress. I’m going to find it.”

  Oh, for the love of ... “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “Tell that to the victims.”

  “You mean the people in the barn?”

  Maribel rolled her eyes.

  My breath caught as something clicked into place. “Wait. You’re talking about new victims, aren’t you? That’s what Desmond was hiding. More people have been found enchanted.”

  Maribel’s cheeks flushed, and I knew I’d read her correctly. “How many? Where were they? What kind of magic—”

  “Don’t play dumb with me, witch.”

  “I’m trying to help. If you tell me what you’ve found—”

  “I’m not telling you anything.” She threw my purse back at me, so hard I took a step back. Something stuck out of the pocket, a business card with a number and email. “That’s my official contact info,” said Maribel. “Best do your Union check-ins and try to behave. Harrow and Desoto may believe your act, but you’re under my eye now. It may not be today, it may not be tomorrow, but someday, you’re going to slip up and expose what you really are. I’ll be waiting for that day, and the moment I turn you in, I’ll have done the world a service.”

  With that she turned and stormed back down the alley until she was eclipsed by shadows.

  Chapter 19