by A C Spahn
“I thought the same thing. That’s why I knew I had to tell you, even if the Union ...” He licked his lips nervously.
“You’re really in trouble now, aren’t you?”
He shrugged and gave a crooked smile. “Let’s just say if we get caught again, I’ll be in the cell with you this time.”
I bent to rummage through my last few supply drawers. “They think I did it, don’t they?”
“Axel is pretty convinced. It was no secret that Maribel and you didn’t like each other.”
“Figures,” I grumbled. “She kidnaps my best friend and manages to frame me for it all at once.”
“Coupling that with how you keep showing up at the crime scenes and trying to force your way into the investigation, Axel thinks you’re too suspicious to be innocent. And he’s not the only one.”
“So we’re on the run.”
“Pretty much. But we have a lead.” Smiling grimly, he pulled a single silver key from his pocket and let it dangle on its chain.
“What’s that?”
“A key to Maribel’s apartment. The Union makes us all give them spares to our homes.”
I paused, looking around the store. “And your businesses?”
“Yes, but we have a few minutes. The store key was still on its hook when I stole this from headquarters. I also tripped a bunch of alarms. Opening fire doors, smashing security cameras. If we’re lucky they think they have a full-blown invasion going on. By the time they make it to Crafter’s Haven, we’ll be gone.”
Holy crap. He hadn’t just chosen my side over theirs, he’d burned the bridge, the support posts, and the grass surrounding the bridge for good measure.
Before I thought about it, I stood on my tiptoes and pressed my lips against his. It was soft, brief, but a spark tingled from my scalp down to my heels. Desmond stiffened in surprise, but his body relaxed, easing into the kiss.
I broke away first. “Thank you,” I whispered.
“Adrienne ...”
“Later. First we have to finish this.” I slammed shut the last drawer of my tool chest. The metal banged home like the crack of a starter pistol. Sides were joined, lines drawn. The battle was on.
Maribel lived on the seventh floor of a tall apartment building situated between other large skyscrapers. No doorman in the lobby, though the outside door had a lock. Desmond let us in, turning the key and jiggling the knob with a practiced hand. I tried not to think about why he had so much familiarity with Maribel’s building.
“So what are we looking for?” Desmond asked as we rode the elevator up.
“Maps or an address book, ideally. More likely we’ll find takeout from a restaurant on her route back from her lair, or enchanted items from the area. If we find something like that, I can draw the enchantment out and try to trace where the magic came from.”
“What if that doesn’t work?”
My jaw tightened. “It has to work. The only other option is to drive through all the parks, feeling for strong magic. Kendall doesn’t have that kind of time.”
The elevator let out on a short hallway with tasteful tan carpet and generic prints of sepia flowers on the walls. Not a decorator’s work, but not dated or tacky either. Maribel’s apartment was one of four on the floor, next to the stairs at the far end of the hall.
Again Desmond worked the key in the lock, opening onto the home of my enemy.
It was not what I expected.
Skulls and sacrificial daggers would have been a bit much, but I at least thought we’d find animal fur or spearheads or severed butterfly wings or something. Not overtly evil, but inclined toward harsh magic.
Instead a grey futon faced an expensive entertainment center, with multiple gaming consoles and a TV bigger than me. Bare walls, except for an action movie poster and two large framed photos. One showed a family of four: a man and a woman with two girls between five and eight years old, all blonde, all smiling, the older daughter with her arm draped affectionately around the younger. The older girl’s sharp cheekbones and confident eyes couldn’t be mistaken; this was Maribel and her birth family.
The other photo showed another family. The parents were Hispanic, their smiles warm and inviting, their hair starting to grey around the temples. They held hands in the center of the photo, surrounded by five adult children. Two of the kids were Hispanic, a man and a woman, but another woman was African-American and the remaining man was white. The last child was Maribel. She smiled widely, eyes alight with joy, her arms around her two brothers. They all looked like they’d been caught mid-laugh. Yet there was a hardness to Maribel’s eyes, a faint stoniness beneath the smile. Her eyes angled away from the camera as if looking toward the other family in the other frame, gazing toward the past.
I swallowed as I stared at the photo. Her tragedy did not excuse what she’d done, I reminded myself. Uneasy, I tore my eyes from the pictures and resumed searching.
“The bedroom’s pretty sparse,” Desmond called. “I’m not seeing any enchanting equipment.”
“She wouldn’t keep it here, with the Union dropping in.”
“I’m not seeing any hints that she sneaks off anywhere, either.”
I followed his voice into the bedroom. Queen-sized bed, grey sheets crisply tucked, no headboard. Dog-eared fantasy adventure paperback on the nightstand. Crossed swords mounted on a plaque on the wall. A framed certificate beside them read “Honorable Discharge.”
“She’s ex-military?”
“Marines. Two tours.”
“Of course she is.” I sighed. “There has to be something here. If she’s an enchantress, she has to keep some materials around in case magic strikes out of no—”
Jewelry box on the dresser.
Now that seemed out of place.
I crossed to the box and lifted the lid. Inside lay a small number of pieces, each lovingly set so it displayed from the best angle. A silver ring engraved with Semper Fidelis. A tarnished pocket watch still wound to show the right time. A pink plastic novelty ring, like a child would win from an arcade. A solitary diamond set on a gold ring. My eyes slid toward Desmond, but he didn’t seem uncomfortable. So the diamond wasn’t from him.
The box lacked the array of bangles and baubles I would expect any magic wielder to keep around to hold enchantments. But not only that, something else was missing, something tickling the back of my mind. I stared at the nearly empty box until it clicked. “The bracelet.”
“What?”
“The bracelet Maribel took from Kendall. The one Kendall found in the enchanting cellar. It’s not here.”
Desmond peered over my shoulder, making me jump. “So?”
I shut the lid of the box. “So Maribel’s not the jewelry wearing type. She only took that bracelet to piss Kendall off. Why isn’t it here?”
“Maybe it’s somewhere else.”
“Not with this kind of tidiness.” I swept my hand over the immaculate box and pristine room. “It has to be on her.” Thoughts swirled in my head, forming a conclusion that I didn’t like. Knots formed in my shoulders. “I don’t think Maribel is the enchantress. I think that bracelet did something to her. Her and Kendall both.”
Desmond frowned. “You think it had an enchantment on it? Something that targets shifters?”
“Not just shifters. Anybody. I think the bracelet was enchanted to lure people to where the enchantress could capture them. Anyone who wore the bracelet would fall under the spell. It was a trap, for thieves.”
“Then why didn’t it affect Kendall the moment she put it on?”
“Manipulation magic works best when the target is asleep, when their defenses are down.”
“But more than one night passed before Kendall disappeared.”
“That’s true. Maybe it had a delay built in to throw off suspicion, or ...” Facts clicked into place. “The full moon! The night Kendall and Maribel disappeared was a full moon. This enchantress is a new magic user, and she’s already shown she leans toward the spooky, tradition
al view of magic. She probably thought tying the enchantment to the full moon would make it stronger.”
“Would it?”
“No.” I paused. “Probably not. Actually, I’m not sure. But it doesn’t matter. The bracelet compelled anyone who wore it to wake up in the middle of the night and return the bracelet to the enchantress. Kendall went to the farm, maybe because that’s where she had found the bracelet, but Maribel—”
“Her car wasn’t at the farm,” Desmond said excitedly. “She was compelled to go somewhere else.”
I nodded. “She still had the bracelet with her. The magic would have been stronger for her, since she wore it longer and had it nearby. It would have drawn Maribel to where the enchantress is hiding now.”
“So we’ll find our culprit and Kendall if we track down Maribel.”
“I can’t track her directly. I tried with Kendall. Wherever they’re being held, there’s too much magic in the air. It’s clouding my enchantment.” I smiled. “But if Kendall drove to find the enchantress, Maribel must have, too. And I’ll bet the enchantress’s lair is far enough off the road that Maribel’s car would have been left behind.”
“Far enough behind that your tracking magic can lock onto it?”
“Only one way to know. Find something that goes with her ride.”
“Can’t we just use a photo of the car? Or a tire fragment from the parking lot?”
“No. Tracking magic requires a spiritual bond between the focus and the thing being tracked. For people, I like to use family heirlooms, favorite books, or something they made themselves. Hair, nail clippings, even blood doesn’t work unless the person has some sort of deep connection to it.”
“But you tracked Shifty Pete using his claw.”
“Because he chose that form. He had a spiritual connection to the idea of being a bear. Plus the fact that he tore part of his nail off meant the lingering pain would keep him connected to that claw fragment. But for Maribel’s car, we need something directly connected to her specific vehicle, something that would be missed if it went missing. A steering wheel cover or other decoration would work, but I think our best bet is a spare key.”
We rummaged through drawers and cabinets for several minutes. At the desk, Desmond made a triumphant sound and straightened. A silver key dangled between his fingers.
“Perfect,” I said. I snatched the key, laid it on the desk, then spilled my purse’s contents beside it. In the jumble of jewelry I found the sunburst bracelet I’d enchanted to track Shifty Pete. I also picked out an unenchanted amethyst necklace, a twin to the one I’d tried to use to track Kendall. The rest of the jewelry I scooped back into the bag and set aside.
Efficiency, not power, would be key to this enchantment. I needed a channel that could handle magic without much bleed-off. That ruled out anything organic. But I also didn’t want something too rigid that might restrict the magic’s range. Across the room I spotted Maribel’s phone charger draped over the arm of the couch. Perfect.
Since I had time and needed to get this enchantment perfect, I went slow. I threaded the skinny end of the phone cord around the amethyst pendant and tied it in a knot, tucking the loose end in. Then I did the same with the charger end, winding it around Maribel’s car key. I laid the objects out on the table, one at each end with the charger cord stretched straight between them. I made sure the cord was flat, with no twists or bumps that could weaken the enchantment. For good measure I grabbed a paper towel from the kitchen and dusted both table and charger cord.
Finally everything looked right. I took a minute to breathe slowly, focusing my thoughts. I cupped the sunburst bracelet in my palms, felt the kadum kadum kadum inside. Closing my eyes, I drew the magic in.
KADUM. KADUM. KADUM.
Eagerly the magic surged through me, like a hound straining at its leash. It wanted to hunt, to seek, to find. It had already been inclined toward that purpose twice, and now I encouraged that goal once more, sending the magic into Maribel’s car key, then through the electric cord and into the amethyst necklace. It went easily, happily, pleased to fulfill its purpose. I bolstered it with some raw magic drawn from the air, boosting the spell. The magic flowed out of me like a contented sigh, and left me smiling once done.
Desmond looked at me curiously. “So ... was that good for you?”
I swatted him, but I couldn’t suppress the smile. “This is what enchantment is all about. That magic has been given the same goal three times, and it shows. It flowed beautifully, like a symphony, or a painting. It’s becoming a piece of art, and it’s happy about it.”
“You make it sound like magic is a living thing.”
I shrugged. “To me, it is. The same way a poem or one of your carvings can take on life.”
His eyes sparkled with sudden warmth. “I can understand that.” He paused, then smirked. “Even if your idea of art is pedestrian and inferior to mine.”
I laughed. “Keep telling yourself that while you poke holes in dead trees.” I unwound the phone cord from the pendant and held it up. The pendant spun instantly, pointing toward the kitchen. It continued to rotate to point the same way, even when I crossed the entire room.
Desmond straightened his shoulders, all trace of joking gone as he stared in the direction indicated by the necklace. “North. Probably across the bridge. The Golden Gate, not the Bay.”
“I know which bridge is north, dork.” Worry made a tangle in my gut. “There’s tons of land up there. We’re going to have to hike. If they’re too deep off the trails it could take hours.”
Desmond looked grim. “We’d better get going.”
Heavy knuckles banged on the door. “SFPD! Open up!”
I jumped and flashed a panicked look at Desmond. “What do they want?” I whispered.
“Damn.” He grabbed my elbow and herded me into the bedroom. “The Union must have called them.”
“The human police? Why would the Union—”
“They really want to stop us. To stop you. They must have thought it was worth the risk of exposure.”
“Can I trick them? I’m a tiny woman, surely they won’t think I’m a threat.”
“A few SFPD officers are clued in. They’re the ones the Union would have called. At least one person in that hallway will know what you are, what you can do.” Desmond eyed the window. “They’re probably watching the street below, but we’re going to have to risk climbing out—”
I ripped Maribel’s grey comforter off her bed.
“—what are you doing?”
“Getting us out of here. I hope.” I bundled the quilt in a pile on one side of the bed as the knocking on the door intensified. With no time to prepare, I grabbed a sweater from the closest drawer, poked one sleeve cuff into the pile of quilt, then pressed the other against the wall. There wasn’t a lot of magic nearby after my previous enchantment, but I breathed in everything I could find, every bit drumming lightly on my skin, gathering it to myself from every corner of the room.
It wasn’t enough. There was no pressure left, no magic trying to burrow into me, but I needed more. I reached further, sucking magic from the rest of the apartment. It flowed toward me, slowly at first, picking up speed as I continued to call to it. My head drummed a frantic rhythm, a chaotic dance too fast for human thought to follow. But all that magic was still not enough. I reached further, until I grasped at mere wisps at my fingertips, straining to gather all magic within my reach and then a little bit beyond. Timpanis pounded holes in my skull, magic crammed so tightly within me I thought my skin would come unlaced. With a groan I sent the magic out, focused on the wall, channeled through the sweater, and targeted on the comforter.
Smoke rose from the sweater, but the synthetic fabric held. Exhausted, I slumped against the wall. My ears rang, echoing with remembered drumbeats. Desmond’s mouth moved above me, but no words reached me. I seized his hand, drawing him to the wall beside me, then threw the enchanted quilt over us both just as a crash sounded from the front door.
<
br /> All was still under the comforter. Desmond didn’t move, taking his cues from me, but more than that, the world itself had gone quiet. No tingling on my skin. No distant drumming teasing my mind. Silence.
My breath came hard. It had been a long time since I’d channeled that much magic. I preferred to use strategy over power, setting up an efficient enchantment, cultivating magic over time so it would do what I wanted easily. With enough time and the right materials, I could create elaborate masterworks of craftsmanship.
But in a pinch, a raw deluge of power could accomplish something similar. The enchantment on the blanket wouldn’t hold for long, and it would take weeks, maybe months for the magic in this building to return to normal, but for now, I hoped it would save us.
Loose stitching in the comforter gave us a hazy view of the bedroom. Uniformed police officers burst in, guns out and ready. They swept past us, checking the closet and the space beneath the bed. “Clear,” someone called.
Beside me, Desmond blinked. He glanced sidelong at me, eyebrows raised in a question. I flashed a thin smile and squeezed his hand.
The officers spread out and began searching the room more carefully, using gloved hands to open drawers and pull back window curtains. I held my breath and took a slow step toward the door. None of them noticed.
Desmond moved with me as I took another step. One of the officers sniffed the air. “Does it smell like smoke?” he asked.
I glanced at the sweater I’d abandoned on the floor. Fortunately it had stopped smoldering. Clued in or not, I didn’t know what a normal would make of fabric that seemed to self-immolate.
Step by excruciating step, we made our way to the bedroom door. There we had to wait for a break in the officers passing back and forth between the rooms. When opportunity finally came, it was a struggle not to dart through the door quickly. Each slow step we took through the door added precious seconds where an officer might suddenly decide to go to the next room and crash into us. But we made it into the living room and began creeping along the wall toward the front door, all without drawing attention.