Veiled Enchantments

by Deborah Blake

  He made short work of fastening her as securely as he could to his torso without hitting any more of her sore spots than he had to. It was still a painful and unpleasant couple of minutes, although nothing compared to the hours it seemed to take for him to haul them both out of there, one careful shift upward at a time. Donata did her best imitation of a spider monkey, clinging to his back with what little strength she had left. The last thing she wanted to do was fall back into that hole and drag him down with her.

  Eventually they reached the top and rested there briefly before continuing on a blessedly short way on the side opposite where she’d fallen in, into a reasonably tall tunnel, and finally, finally, out into the weak November sunshine. It dazzled Donata’s cave-accustomed eyes and was one of the most beautiful sights she’d ever seen.

  “Never. Going. Underground. Ever. Again,” she gasped.

  Magnus chuckled, settling her onto the mossy ground as comfortably as he could. “Can’t say I blame you. That was one hell of a fall you took.”

  Donata shook her head, immediately regretting the action. “Didn’t fall,” she said. “I was pushed.”

  To his credit, Magnus didn’t doubt her, although she could see the struggle on his face as he quickly grasped the unpleasant truth that came along with her statement.

  “By one of the Ulf candidates,” he said in a flat tone.

  “Had to be,” Donata said. “I can’t imagine anyone else would be down there.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah.”

  As if on cue, the rest of the group came trudging over the edge of the hillside, led by Harald. They were all covered from head to toe with mud like Donata and Magnus, and there were a few scrapes and scratches, but no one looked nearly as bad as she did. Not one of them showed any surprise or guilt when they spotted Donata, although most of their faces were so dirty, it might have been hard to spot even if they had.

  “What happened?” Harald asked, squatting down to peer at Donata.

  “I fell into a hole,” Donata said. “Stupid of me.”

  Magnus’s eyes widened a bit, but he didn’t contradict her. “I had to go in after her and pull her out. Put me a little behind schedule.”

  Harald shrugged. “You got out the far side. That’s all that you needed to do to complete the test successfully. Rescuing someone along the way might even be considered a bonus task.” He glanced around at the Ulf candidates standing in a ragged half circle. “So, let’s see who has the most treasure.”

  Most of the group had one or two. Lita had three and put them gleefully on the ground in front of her feet. Magnus laid his three out too. Donata squeezed his hand.

  “A tie,” Harald said. “Too bad.”

  “Not exactly,” Magnus said, opening his hand to reveal a fourth crystal. Just as Donata had suspected, its faint glow was completely invisible out in the light. Magnus turned his head slightly and winked at her. She smiled, her bruises suddenly a little less painful.

  It was still going to be a long walk back.

  It turned out that Magnus’s prize for gathering the most crystals was two days off of training while the others continued to work hard despite their exhausting day in the caverns. Still, they’d all passed the test, so no one complained much.

  Least of all Donata, since his time off meant he could stay home and tend to her as she recovered from her ordeal. The town’s healer looked her over when they first got back and pronounced her battered but not broken. The rib was just badly bruised, like much of the rest of her, although he thought she probably did have a minor concussion. Donata didn’t see much point in going into Masonville to the hospital for a second opinion. The only things she really needed were rest and time and some of Astrid’s amazing chicken soup. Donata was pretty sure that the aroma alone would bring someone back from the dead.

  As predicted, much of her body turned lovely shades of black, blue, and muddy green, but between the healer’s herbal ointment and her own natural recuperative powers (Witches might not heal as fast as Ulfhednar, but they definitely mended faster than Humans), she was feeling much better by the time Magnus had to return to training on Thursday morning.

  At least, she was feeling better physically. Mentally she was still a little ragged around the edges and prone to waking from her dreams with a start and a muffled scream. She’d been quietly grateful when Magnus slept with her the first couple of nights, although she pretended to be grumpy about how much space he took up in the bed. She was pretty sure he hadn’t bought it, but at least it made her feel a little bit less like a child who was afraid to sleep alone.

  She offered to go with him when he set off for the practice hall, figuring she was healthy enough at this point to sit in a corner and observe in case a ghost showed up, but he vetoed her with a grim headshake.

  “Absolutely not,” he said. “I can’t focus on my training and keep an eye on you at the same time.”

  Donata opened her mouth to protest, but he just set his jaw in a way she was quite familiar with from their previous time together. That look meant he wasn’t going to change his mind, no matter what she said.

  “In case you’ve forgotten, one of the people who is going to be in that hall pushed you into a dark hole and left you there to die. I’m not going to chance whoever it is trying to do it again.”

  Donata’s head still hurt, so she probably wasn’t as tactful as she should have been. “I doubt anyone will try something with all the rest of you there. To be honest, I don’t think there was a conscious intent to kill me; I think the person who pushed me just saw an unexpected opportunity and acted impulsively. I’m sure there won’t be a second incident.”

  Magnus narrowed his eyes as he tried to read her face. “You know who did this, don’t you? And you’re not going to tell me.”

  “I don’t know for sure, Magnus. I have a guess, but a guess isn’t proof. You have to live and work with these people, and I don’t want to cause any more problems than I already have. Can’t we just drop it?”

  “Like someone dropped you into a hole in the ground? I don’t think so, ’Nata.” He crossed his arms over his chest and waited. When it became clear she wasn’t going to say anything more, he spun on his heel and marched out of the room. She could hear his angry footsteps all the way down the hall.

  A few minutes later, Astrid poked her head in the doorway. “Lover’s quarrel?” she said cheerfully, setting a mug of coffee and a hunk of homemade bread topped with a slab of smoky bacon down on the table by Donata’s bed. “Here. You’d better eat this. You need to keep your strength up.”

  “For fighting with Magnus?” Donata asked, reaching for the coffee gratefully, but then setting it back down when the smell made her stomach roil. Must be aftereffects from the concussion. Thankfully, the bacon went down as easily as usual.

  “I meant for healing, dear, but yes, that too.” Astrid looked at the rejected mug and then took it away, bringing back a cup of tea instead, along with a long brown-paper-wrapped package.

  “Thanks,” Donata said. “What’s that?”

  “Oh, it came for you yesterday,” Astrid said. “I thought you probably needed another day to rest before you dealt with whatever it was. So, do you want to tell me what you and Magnus were arguing about, or would you rather I minded my own business?”

  Donata set the package to one side, pretty sure she knew what it contained. “You know my accident in the cave? It wasn’t actually an accident. Someone pushed me.”

  “Goodness.” Astrid’s eyebrows shot up. “Surely you don’t mean that one of the Ulf candidates . . .”

  “Almost certainly,” Donata said with a sigh. “It did occur to me that maybe it was a ghost, but so far none of them have done anything that indicated they could interact with the physical world, and the shove felt very solid. Sadly, that narrows things down considerably.”

  “Could it have b
een the Major Anemoi?” Astrid said, sounding almost hopeful. “Magnus said one of them accosted you in the woods.”

  Donata shook her head, happy to be able to do that again without the room spinning. “No, they need me alive and healthy, plus I can’t answer their questions if I’m dead. I’m afraid it really was one of the trainees.”

  “Well, that’s certainly disturbing, but I don’t see why you and Magnus would be arguing about it.” Astrid picked up the empty plate; Donata didn’t even remember finishing it but she must have been hungry, because there wasn’t so much as a crumb left.

  “I’m fairly sure I know who it was, and he’s mad that I wouldn’t tell him.”

  “Ah, that’s different, isn’t it?” Astrid gazed at her thoughtfully. “Do you think it has anything to do with the ghosts? Magnus told me and his father what you’d deduced about someone who had experience with the Ulf process possibly giving information to whoever is behind the haunting.”

  Donata had spent the last two days lying in bed and thinking about that very question. “If it is who I think it is, I suspect the motivation was more personal. And as I told Magnus, I don’t have any proof. It’s just a gut feeling, and I am not willing to accuse anyone based on that and a hint of a memory from right before I hit my head. He’s just going to have to accept that.”

  “Good luck with that, dear,” Astrid said dryly, patting her shoulder with the hand not holding the plate. “Why don’t you rest for a bit? I’m going into Masonville later, and if you feel up to it, you can come with me. I’m sure you’re getting tired of staring at these four walls and the inside of your own eyelids.”

  “That sounds great,” Donata said. But she wasn’t really planning to rest.

  The simple wooden board sat in the middle of the bed and stared at her. Donata stared back, not impressed. Ironically, she’d never actually used a Ouija board, since her talent for talking with the dead had manifested early enough to render such a thing completely superfluous.

  She had initially been surprised to find out that her great-aunt even owned such a thing, but no matter how powerful the Witch, each had areas in which they excelled and those in which they didn’t. Tatiana was a renowned herbalist and spell-caster, but apparently this was a weak spot in her repertoire. Luckily for Donata, under the circumstances.

  She’d taken the precaution of lighting the quarter candles and casting a protective circle, although she didn’t expect to experience anything she couldn’t handle, especially through this medium. Teenage Human girls used it to contact ghosts, usually without any issues, for goodness’ sake. In fact, the worst thing Donata thought might happen was, frankly, nothing at all.

  She placed the tips of her fingers lightly on the edges of the planchette, the small heart-shaped piece of wood that was designed to move around the board. The board itself had the alphabet painted in curling black letters on a tan background, along with the numbers one through nine plus zero underneath, and the word yes on the top left and no on the top right. At the bottom, more cursive letters spelled out goodbye.

  The idea was that the user would ask a question and a spirit would answer by moving the planchette across the letters to spell out a word. Donata wasn’t sure what the numbers were for—phone numbers on the other side, maybe, or ghosts who liked mathematics. Gah. She shook out her fingers to disperse any negativity she might be carrying and placed them carefully back on the planchette, trying to center her thoughts as she would during a real ritual.

  “Hello,” she said out loud, feeling a little bit foolish. “Is there a spirit here who can speak to me?”

  The planchette slid smoothly across the wooden surface and came to rest on the word no.

  Very funny.

  If there wasn’t a spirit in the room, then who had answered? So did the no mean that whoever it was couldn’t talk to her or wasn’t willing to do so?

  “I am trying to help the Ulfhednar,” she said. “I’m a friend of Magnus. Do you know Magnus?”

  The planchette moved to the opposite side of the board. Yes.

  Okay. This was like pulling teeth. Donata felt a fleeting longing for her normal form of communication with the dead, but she’d tried that, and it hadn’t worked. She was just going to have to be patient and do this the hard way. She was never going to take her ability for granted again.

  “Can you tell me why ghosts are haunting the Ulf candidates?” she asked.

  The planchette quivered under her fingertips, shaking like a nervous greyhound. Then it shot from letter to letter, spelling out disjointed words that she finally parsed as Home Go Home Must Go Home Want to Go Home repeated over and over again.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t understand. Please slow down and try to explain.”

  Home Must Home Must Go Home Sorry Home Must Go Home.

  Okay, so that would be a no. “Can you tell me your name?” she tried instead.

  Magnus. Friend. The piece of wood spun around the board.

  “Yes. Yes, I am Magnus’s friend. Can you tell me who you are?”

  The planchette moved so violently, it flipped over, still pointing at letters. She thought it spelled out Calder, although she couldn’t be sure. Then it flew through the air and landed on the floor with a crack as it split into two pieces. All four of her quarter candles blew out, and then the room was quiet again.

  Well, that shouldn’t have happened.

  The crazy movement of the planchette, maybe, if the spirit was frustrated or upset. Her losing control of it, and having it sail straight through her protective circle? Not so much. Something had thwarted her magic again, even if in a small way, and she didn’t like it. If she couldn’t depend on her magic working, she needed to know it and to figure out why.

  It looked like it was time for another call to her aunt. She wasn’t looking forward to telling Tatiana that she’d broken her Ouija board.

  Donata sat on the same park bench in town and turned her phone on. It felt odd, reconnecting with the world after being shut off from it in Gimle. It was strange how fast you could get used to no phones or Internet or television. The truth was, she hadn’t missed modern life much, although she did kind of miss her job and being useful. It seemed like her being in Gimle wasn’t doing the Ulfhednar much good, and her lack of progress after three and a half weeks was beginning to frustrate her. Donata hoped her great-aunt might have some ideas, since the Ouija board had turned out to be more confusing than helpful.

  Once her phone powered up, she checked her messages before calling Tatiana. One from Doc, checking in and saying that everything at home was fine. One from her mother, asking in a very patient tone exactly how long Donata expected to be out of town. And sixteen missed calls from the number belonging to Clement Moore. Sixteen. Seriously?

  As if he somehow knew that she was looking at her phone—and she wouldn’t put it past him to have some way to do that—it vibrated in her hand with an incoming call from that same number.

  She considered ignoring it, but then she’d just have another sixteen missed calls the next time she came into Masonville.

  “Stalker much?” she said.

  “What?” Moore’s voice sounded equal parts confused and annoyed.

  “Sixteen calls,” she said. “I told you I was in a place without cell service. Why in the goddess’s name would you try and call me sixteen times? What could possibly be so urgent?”

  “I assumed you would be coming back to something approaching civilization long before this,” Moore said stiffly. “I also assumed that you would have information for me.”

  “Why the hell would you assume that?” she asked. “I thought I made it quite clear that I wasn’t going to spy on the Ulfhednar for you and the Alliance Council. That’s not my job, Mr. Moore.”

  “Perhaps you might like to consider your actual job, Ms. Santori,” Moore said in a low voice. She got the sudden mental ima
ge of a rattlesnake shaking its tail. “You do realize that all Witch-cops are required to have certification in their particular specialty from an Alliance-approved school in order to be allowed to practice in an official capacity?”

  “Of course I do,” she said. “I got my certification years ago, before I applied to the police academy. I was one of the first Witches to become a Witness Retrieval Specialist. They invented that rule the year I and a few others joined the force.”

  “Indeed. You blazed a trail for many Witches to follow. It would be a pity if your certification were to be revoked for some technicality and you were unable to practice your chosen trade.”

  Donata thought there might be actual steam coming out of her ears. A couple of boys who had been playing catch nearby suddenly decided to move to the opposite side of the park.

  “Are you threatening me, Mr. Moore?” she asked. “Again?” The last time it had been her sister’s job. At least he was going after her directly this time. She supposed that was an improvement.

  “Simply pointing out that it is in your best interests to cooperate with the Council,” he said, smooth as silk. “After all, you are already there in Gimle, living among the Ulfhednar. All we ask is that you keep your eyes open and let us know if you see any signs that they are reproducing in greater numbers than is allowed by the Compact, thus placing us all at risk. It hardly seems to be much to ask.”

  “Fine,” Donata said through gritted teeth. “I’ll keep my eyes open.”

  “Excellent,” Moore said. She could practically see him rubbing his hands together in satisfaction. “I expect to hear from you soon, then.” He hung up.

  “I’ll keep my eyes open,” Donata muttered to herself. “Otherwise I’d fall over things when I walk. But I’m not telling you shit, you pompous bastard.” She was tempted to throw her phone into the bushes, but that would make it difficult to call her great-aunt. Donata had no idea if Moore would make good on his threat if she didn’t produce some kind of evidence. Which she didn’t even have and didn’t expect to. The Ulfhednar might trust her more than they had initially, at least some of them, but they never lost sight of the fact that she was a Witch, and a Witch-cop at that. She hadn’t seen any families with more than two children since she’d gotten there, and the Torvalds were still steadfastly maintaining the fiction that Erik and Enar were cousins.