Veiled Enchantments

by Deborah Blake

  “On the bright side,” she said in a forcefully cheerful tone, “the Chief is insisting I take more time off to make up for all the breaks I was supposed to have taken over the years. It would be terrific if you could take some supplies over to my apartment for Ricky and Grim. And if I can wrap this up, maybe you and I can finally take that girls’ week you’ve been wanting.”

  “That would be great, Donata,” Doc said. “Maybe we can go to this fabulous river resort. De-Nile. Maybe you’ve heard of it?” She huffed out a breath. “Sorry, they’re bringing me in a nice dead body. Got to get back to work. Give me a call when you get a chance, okay? And try and stay out of trouble. Love you.” She made a kissing sound into the phone and hung up.

  Donata resisted the impulse to bang her head against the ornate metal arm of the bench she was sitting on. Why did everyone think she was going to get into trouble again? This was why people didn’t have a life. Sometimes friends were just annoying.

  Speaking of annoying, she should probably return her mother’s call, although she suspected she would just get a lecture for missing yet another Saturday family dinner.

  First, though, she thought she’d check out the number she couldn’t identify. It was probably just a wrong number or a very persistent telemarketer, but there was always the slim chance it was Peter, calling from a new phone. Not that she was interested in getting back together with him, but she hadn’t heard from him since he left town after his father died, and she’d like to at least know that he was okay.

  She hit redial and listened to it ring a number of times on the other end. She was just about to hang up when a familiar—and entirely unwelcome—voice answered.

  “Ms. Santori,” Clement Moore said. “Good of you to return my call.”

  Crap.

  Chapter Ten

  “Whatever you want, the answer is no,” Donata said. She tried to be polite most of the time, but for the man from the Alliance Council, she was willing to make an exception. “I’m not in the city anyway, so I’m in no position to help with whatever it is.”

  “I am well aware of your location, Ms. Santori,” Moore said in his usual smooth tenor. “In fact, it is that which puts you in exactly the right position to gather some much-needed information for the Council. A simple assignment, which should require little or no effort beyond that of being your usual observant self.”

  Oh, great. Was the Council tracking her movements? Or had someone connected with them happened to see her and report back that she was in Maine? Either way, she knew exactly what he was asking.

  “I am not spying on the Ulfhednar for you, Mr. Moore,” she said flatly.

  “‘Spying’ is such an ugly word, Ms. Santori. I merely wish you to keep your eyes open and report back to me if you see anything you think the Council needs to know about. It is rare for an outsider to be invited into the Ulfhednar world, especially for an extended period of time. There has been some concern that the Shapeshifters have not been holding to the rules of the Compact, which limits them to two children per family. Since any violation of the Compact could have repercussions for the entire Paranormal community, this is not a trivial matter.”

  “I haven’t seen any evidence that would prove they are breaking the Compact,” Donata said, choosing her words carefully. After all, Enar and Erik could be the cousins they professed to be, and all the other families in Gimle had carefully avoided her, so she hadn’t seen if any of them had more than two kids.

  “Ms. Santori, I don’t think I have to remind you of what a bad idea it is to stand in the way of what the Council wants. Such things never go well for those involved.”

  As if I could ever forget. “You mean like when you threatened my family, or the time you sent men with guns after me? And maybe I should remind you that when I actually did come across something that could endanger the Paranormal races—like someone who was agitating for violence and breaking the Compact—I delivered that person right into your lap.”

  “Just as you should have,” Moore said. “You know your duty. I am just asking you to do it.”

  “No problem,” Donata said. “But I’m still not spying on the Ulfhednar. And don’t bother to call back and threaten me about it, because I won’t have cell service. Have a nice day, Mr. Moore.” Or not. Plus, you can bite me.

  She jabbed viciously at the off button on her phone and threw it into her bag with a little more force than might have been strictly good for it. She was still grinding her teeth when a mild voice behind her said, “That sounded like a singularly unpleasant conversation.”

  “He’s a singularly unpleasant man,” Donata said, trying not to look guilty for having been caught talking to someone from the Council after spending weeks swearing she wasn’t connected to them. Not that she expected Astrid to believe that now. Crap.

  “How much did you hear?” she asked Astrid as the other woman came around and sat on the bench next to her.

  “Oh, pretty much all of it,” Astrid said with a smile. “I’ve been standing here since ‘Whatever you want, the answer is no.’ I take it that whomever you were speaking to is not one of your favorite people.”

  It was a good thing Astrid wasn’t trying to kill her, because Donata would be dead. She knew the Ulfhednar walked softly, but she couldn’t believe the woman had managed to come up behind her and listen to the entire conversation, and Donata hadn’t even sensed her presence. Of course, it was hard to concentrate on anything else when you were trying to keep from getting sucked into the Council’s plotting.

  “No. One of my least favorite, actually. Clement Moore has been a thorn in my side since the day I met him, and isn’t showing any signs of improving with time. He’s with the Alliance Council.”

  “So I gathered,” Astrid said. She stood up again. “I stowed the groceries in the cooler in the car. I thought I’d show you a couple of my favorite spots in town.”

  “Wait.” Donata was confused. “Aren’t you worried about me talking to someone from the Council? You don’t sound concerned at all.”

  Astrid laughed. “I told you, I heard the entire conversation, including the part where you refused to spy on us for him. Twice. And then told him not to bother calling you back. Not only am I not worried—except for your continued health if you keep on being so rude to powerful people—I am quite pleased to have my faith in you confirmed.”

  “Huh.” Donata stood up, too, shaking her head. “You know, I could have realized you were standing there the whole time and faked the conversation so you’d be lulled into a false sense of security. If I were a spy, which I’m not.”

  Astrid rolled her eyes. “You can fake a conversation, but you can’t fake your scent. An Ulfhednar’s sense of smell is as good as their hearing, and I could smell the anger on you from ten paces away. Now, are you going to continue this silly discussion, or are you going to let me take you to the best ice cream shop in a hundred-mile radius?”

  Donata perked up. “Ice cream?”

  “Homemade ice cream. In a shop that’s next to a bookstore. Since you’ll be here longer than you expected to be, I thought you might need to pick up some more reading material. What do you think?”

  “I think that after talking to Clement Moore, I deserve a double scoop with extra hot fudge sauce, and a nice steamy romance.”

  Astrid hooked her arm through Donata’s and started steering them across the park. “And I think that sounds like a damned good plan.”

  They strolled together down a pleasant main street lined with trees and slightly old-fashioned-looking shops. Iron lampposts and hand-lettered signs pointing the way to various locations only added to the charm. As they turned down a narrow alley with a large, colorful triple-scoop ice cream cutout at the entrance, Donata could see a small crowd gathered before the bookstore across the street from the aptly named Frozen Delights.

  “What’s going on there?” she asked. “Are the
y having some kind of event? An author signing or something?”

  “Botheration,” Astrid said, her face creasing with annoyance. “That silly man is at it again.”

  She sighed when Donata gave her a confused look. “The local priest seems to have gotten it into his head that the Bell, Book, and Candle is a hotbed of witchcraft and blasphemy. Periodically stands out in front of the store holding a sign that says REPENT and berating anyone who goes inside. It’s annoying.”

  “I take it there are no actual Witches at the bookstore?” Donata said dryly.

  “None that I’ve ever seen. The owners are two lovely lesbians—Humans—with an adorable baby boy. As far as I can tell, they simply thought the name was fun. But Father Michael has taken it literally. Rather ironic, for a bookstore. Which does, in fact, sell candles, too, and these cute little porcelain bells that one of the women, Samantha hand paints with scenes from famous books.”

  It all seemed quite sweet, other than the ranting man wearing a black shirt with a white collar tucked into it. He had frizzy dark hair and deep-set eyes under wild brows. As they drew closer, Donata could make out words like sin, blasphemy, and offense against the Lord.

  She sighed. Then the other penny dropped. “Oh, is this who Enar was talking about when he said there was someone from the Cabal here in town?”

  “Yes,” said Astrid, “although I’m not sure I think he is anything more than a religious man with a little too much fervor. Of course, we all thought that the Cabal was just an old fairy tale used to frighten children, until Magnus came home and told us about how the two of you had a run-in with them. Now Enar and Erik are seeing them behind every bush.”

  She turned to Donata. “You don’t actually think he could be one of them, do you?” Her face appeared a little pale, but maybe that was just due to the dimmer light in the alley. Or not. After her experiences, Donata took the supposedly mythical fanatical offshoot of the Catholic Church very seriously indeed.

  “I doubt it,” she said. “But I’m not sure how I’d know for sure unless he tries to shoot me or set me on fire.” She shuddered. “Maybe we should skip the books and ice cream today?”

  “Nonsense,” Astrid said. “We’re not going to let a little ranting chase us off. Besides, I suspect the ladies could use every purchase they can get on days when he’s out here. I for one plan to buy an extra book just because.”

  “Maybe they’ll have a nice paranormal romance with a half-naked man on the cover,” Donata said with a wicked grin.

  “That’s my girl.”

  The two women tried to walk past the priest without engaging with him, but he turned to Donata and said, “You. You’re not from around here.” He stepped in front of her, effectively blocking her path unless she wanted to shove him out of the way. Tempting, but probably not a good idea.

  “No, I’m not,” she said in as mild a tone as she could manage. “I’m visiting friends.”

  “Those people in the next town over?” He stared at Astrid with narrowed eyes, as if correctly identifying her as one of “those people.” Donata figured he might recognize the other woman if she came here often enough.

  “Yes,” Donata said, trying without success to walk past him. “Now if you don’t mind—“

  “Best stay away from those people,” he said in his deep voice. “They’re not what they seem. They walk the path of the devil. 2 Kings 17:35. ‘You shall not fear other gods, nor bow down yourselves to them nor serve them nor sacrifice to them.’ If you value your soul, you’ll leave that place and never go back.”

  His words made Donata twitch. It almost sounded as if he knew what the townspeople of Gimle were. Could he really be Cabal? She supposed they had to live somewhere, although she would have thought they’d be subtler than this.

  “Enough is enough,” Astrid said firmly. “Get out of our way, please. Now.” She used the same voice Donata had heard aimed at the younger members of the family when they were being particularly irksome. Apparently it worked just as well on rabid priests as it did on the hellions, since he reluctantly stepped aside to let them pass.

  Donata could feel his eyes blazing into the back of her head as they walked away. Could the Cabal somehow be mixed up in whatever is going wrong in Gimle? Suddenly all those warnings about staying out of trouble didn’t seem so uncalled for.

  Later that evening, Magnus came into the great room, where Donata was playing a raucous game of Jenga with the hellions, Enar, and Erik on the floor in front of the fire. She’d found the game at the bookstore and thought she could get away with bringing it back to the house with her, since the pieces were made of wood and it involved a certain amount of skill and dexterity. It had been a huge success and they’d been at it since dinner ended a few hours before. The younger kids were starting to droop, though, and Donata had been hoping to get to spend a little time with Magnus.

  “Looks like you’re having fun,” he said around the huge turkey leg he was gnawing on. He handed her a mug of home-brewed beer and settled down on the floor next to her with easy grace. “Who’s winning?”

  “I am,” Enar and Erik said simultaneously.

  Magnus chuckled, then scooted aside as Kari swooped in and scooped up her children. “Thanks for keeping them entertained, Donata. I actually managed to get something done for a change.” She swatted the kids gently on their backsides to get them moving in the right direction. “Come on, you two. Baths, then bed. The game will still be here tomorrow.”

  The teens heaved themselves up and mumbled something that might have been appreciation before loping out of the room, leaving Magnus and Donata alone in front of the fire.

  “Did I get hit too hard on the head tonight, or did my sister actually say something nice to you?” Magnus took a long swallow of beer, then gnawed the last of the turkey off the bone before setting it aside and wiping his hands on a cloth napkin.

  “She seems to be a little less antagonistic. Your mom had a talk with her after we got back from Masonville earlier.”

  “Oh?” Magnus knew perfectly well that his mother had had more than one talk with Kari since Donata had gotten there, with no notable effect. “Something interesting happen when you went into town?”

  Donata gazed at him over the edge of her mug. “Well, I guess it depends on your definition of ‘interesting.’ We went to a bookstore where we bumped into a crazy-sounding priest who might be a member of the Cabal, and I made a bunch of phone calls, including one to my boss, who bitched me out for not taking enough time off and told me to stay away until after Thanksgiving, and one to Clement Moore, who asked me to spy on your people. Oh, and we had some really great ice cream.” She gave him a slanted smile. “So how was your day?”

  Magnus opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. “I don’t even know where to start with that list.”

  “Mint chocolate chip.”

  “What?”

  “I thought maybe you’d start by asking me what kind of ice cream I had,” Donata said, smothering a laugh. “It was mint chocolate chip. And they did it the right way, with no ugly green food coloring.”

  “That’s fabulous,” Magnus said. “Next time bring some home for me. But first, why don’t you tell me why you were talking to Clement Moore, of all people? You despise the man. And what on earth does that have to do with my sister finally being civil to you? I’m assuming the two are related, since no one loves Jenga that much.”

  Donata put down her mug, suddenly not in the mood for beer, although the first taste had been wonderful. Maybe it clashed too much with her memory of the ice cream. Or maybe thinking about Clement Moore just turned her stomach.

  “There were six missed calls on my phone from the same unknown number,” she explained. “I thought it might be Peter finally checking in from Europe or wherever he ran off to, but it turned out to be Moore.”

  “Hmm.” Magnus seemed absorbed by the flame
s in the fireplace. “So you haven’t heard anything from Peter?”

  The two men had gotten along reasonably well when the three of them had been hiding out in a Franciscan monastery earlier in the year, but they were also both alpha males and quasi-rivals for the same woman, so she had no idea what Magnus was thinking.

  “No,” she said shortly. “I don’t really expect to. But I called the number back just in case it was him and not someone trying to sell me new windows for a house I don’t own. Turned out it was Clement Moore. Somehow he’d found out that I was staying in Gimle—I don’t even want to think about how—and he asked me to be my, how did he put it, ‘usual observant self’ to check on whether or not the Ulfhednar are still following their limits on reproduction.”

  Magnus growled quietly under his breath. “Bastard. And you told him no?”

  “Of course I told him no, Magnus!” Donata glared at him. “I’m not going to spy on your family or your community, and I made that very clear.”

  He put one muscular arm around her. “I’m not doubting you, ’Nata. I just wonder if it would have been wiser to be a little less confrontational with Moore, maybe say that you were going to do it, then just tell him everything is fine. I worry about you. He’s a powerful man.”

  “He’s an ass,” Donata said firmly. “I’m not going to pretend to go along with him. Besides, it all worked out for the best, because it turned out your mom was standing behind me the whole time and heard me tell him to take a flying leap. Then she came home and told Kari about it while we prepared dinner. Ever since then, your sister has been a lot nicer to me, so I guess she finally believes I’m not here to report on the Ulfhednar to the Council.”

  Magnus shook his head. “Well, okay. I just wish you wouldn’t poke the bear quite so much. Speaking of poking the bear, the Chief actually told you to take more time off? That’s great. Especially since we’re not making any progress finding out where these ghosts are coming from.” He sighed and drained the last of his beer, then set the mug aside next to Donata’s almost-full one on the coffee table.