The Enchanted Writes Book One (10 page)

Henrietta slumped forward. Brick caught her.
He chuckled and patted her back. “Excellent work.”

She let out a morose sigh, strands of her
fringe falling in front of her face. She felt like hell.

“You did let yourself get burnt, and you
almost died, but apart from that, it was alright.” Brick tried to
cheer her up. “Oh, and you almost burnt the forest down with an
ill-chosen blizzard spell. But honestly, apart from all that, you
did well.”

Her stiff neck creaked as she looked at him.
It was clear Brick had no social skills, but at least his friendly
smile was genuine.

Suddenly, sirens filtered through the dense
trees.

Brick turned to them. “It sounds like the
Fire Service are finally here.”

Henrietta stood and surveyed the damage. The
forest was most definitely on fire. It wasn't a raging inferno, and
the sections covered in frost still appeared to be immune, but
there were spurts of flames and bursts of smoke dotting up
everywhere.

She dragged her wand up.

Brick rested his hand on her wrist and
pushed down. “You do not have the magic left.”

“But I have to do something.”

“A banishment spell is the hardest spell to
perform, and uses up all residual magic you have. You need to rest
now. Let the Fire Service deal with this.”

“But what about your crossbow? Surely there
is something you can do?” Guilt gathered in her gut as she watched
the flames catch over the trees and scrub.

“I am out of bolts. And you and I must now
leave. While I do not know what would happen if the humans saw us
casting magic in the forest, I am sure they would pause to stare at
your costume regardless of whether you were waving your wand around
or not.”

Had he admitted her costume was outrageous?
She was too tired to bring him up on it. She felt totally
drained.

“The fire is small, and it should be easily
contained. So now it is time for you and me to get on a bus and to
drive like cats on speed.” Brick wrapped an arm around her middle
and pushed into a run.

She collapsed against him, thankful he was
there.

Henrietta was drying glasses with abject
fear plastered over her face. It cracked up the sides of her
shivering lips and crinkled the skin around her wide-open eyes.

She was listening to a conversation between
Jimmy and one of his firefighting friends.

“Look, Jimmy, I’m telling you, she had boots
up to her thighs.” The friend tapped the side of his leg. “And the
heels were sky scrapers.”

Jimmy laughed around an open smile. “Are you
sure it wasn't just smoke inhalation?” He slapped his friend on the
back.

“Smoke inhalation? She was wearing a bodice,
and her skirt,” the guy's voice shot so high he was like a
prepubescent boy, “was the shortest I have ever seen.”

Jimmy laughed again.

Henrietta had been drying the same glass for
about five minutes now.

“Come on, Jimmy, you have to admit this is
incredible.” His friend whistled.

Jimmy didn't stop laughing, but his eyebrows
did crumple down. “I'll tell you what is incredible, did you hear
about the frost?”

Henrietta's hands seized up, her fingers
clutching at her tea towel.

“What frost?” The friend ticked his head to
the side

Jimmy scratched his brow and shrugged.
“Look, I have no idea how it got there, maybe it was just some kids
playing pranks… but there were whole tracks of forest that were
covered in the thickest frost. It was one of the reasons we didn't
have a serious bushfire on our hands yesterday.”

The friend pressed closer, leaning an arm
onto the bar. “I heard Rodriguez say something about that, but I
thought he was tugging my leg.”

She swallowed, her throat constricted.

Jimmy turned to her. “You probably think
we’re mad, don't you, Henny?”

“I… I'm sure there's an innocent explanation
for everything.” Her fingers were so white, they looked like
someone had whittled the flesh down to bone.

Jimmy curled a lip and sniggered. “Maybe
you’re right. Still, that frost....”

His friend made a motion like he was tracing
the outline of a woman's body. “That outfit.”

Jimmy slapped his friend on the shoulder.
“Very smooth.”

She wanted to pull free from the
conversation, she wanted to put her glass down, let go of her tea
towel, and run away as fast as she could.

Someone had seen her in the forest
yesterday, seen enough of her to gawk at her costume. Worse, Jimmy
Field had seen the remnants of her frost spell. So much for keeping
her anonymity.

Brick would kill her.

He’d promised to come see her after work.
Apparently she could kiss her quiet nights goodbye. She'd be
fighting witches from now until the end of the shadow war.

It hadn't sunk in yet. She didn’t want it to
sink in.

She wanted to go back to normal.

Henrietta swallowed again and picked up
another glass.

Jimmy frowned. “Are you okay today?”

Nope. Definitely not okay.

She forced a smile over her stiff lips.
“Sure.”

Jimmy paused, that frown pushing harder down
his chin.

“Have you talked to Marcia recently?” she
interrupted before he could push his point.

Jimmy straightened and lost that careful,
concerned, professional look. All it took was the mention of
Marcia, and he turned into putty.

His friend leaned in, chuckled, and thumped
him on the back. “He saw her last night.”

Henrietta hated talking about her sister,
but at least it distracted Jimmy and his friend. So she engaged in
small talk about Marcia until both men left.

The rest of the day wound on. Just like
yesterday, she was possessed with the urge to run to the bathroom,
grab her hairpin, and write witch hunter just to see what would
happen.

It was still amazing to think she had that
kind of power....

As she worked, she listened into every
conversation between any of the firemen who came in for lunch or
coffee. Some of them talked of the fire, but by far the hot topic
was the woman they'd seen in the forest.

She tried to keep herself composed, but it
was hard. From the guffaws, to the fake wolf whistles, to the sheer
disbelief, everybody had their own version of events. Fortunately,
not once did she hear mention of a witch – a thin, gaunt, young
woman in a broken and burnt summer dress who spat fire from her
skin.

A stripper in the woods was bizarre, so was
frost in the middle of summer. A creature whose skin cracked with
flame, however, would be impossible to explain.

She’d dodged a bullet. Still, if she wanted
to keep the truth of the witches secret, she’d have to do a better
job next time.

By the time work ended, she’d whipped
herself into a frenzy. Her thoughts kept flitting from her fight to
the few scraps of advice Brick had shared with her.

She was in a daze as she walked home.

When she reached her house, a shaking hand
inserting the key into her lock and tugging the door open, it was
to the sound of Barney giving a happy bark.

Her dog never welcomed her home. He only got
out of bed for chow and a pat.

“What the hell?” She let the door swing shut
as she tugged her shoes off and kicked them next to the wall.
“Barney?”

Her dog gave another happy bark.

She reached her room.

And stopped.

There was a man sitting on her bed, playing
with her dog, and he was wearing a ridiculous leather jacket.

Brick looked up, plucked his hat from his
head and tipped it at her, and then went back to playing with
Barney.

“You do not have much sustenance in your
house,” Brick pointed out before she could start shouting at
him.

His statement derailed her. “What? What are
you talking about?”

Brick shrugged towards the kitchen. “I have
gone through all the food available in this residence, yet it was
not sufficient. Where are your stores?” He kept scratching under
Barney's chin.

Barney didn’t like people. He tolerated
them, especially if they fed him, but he was no lap dog. Yet here
he was rolling over and letting Brick rub his tummy. The little
sell-out.

She clamped her hands hard on her hips and
shifted her jaw around stiffly. “What do you mean you've eaten all
my food?”

“There was not much to start off with. And
as a warrior monk, I have a considerable appetite. So I am
enquiring where you keep your stores for the winter. I went through
your house, but I could not find a cellar stocked with meats and
cheeses, so where are they?”

Her eyebrows crumpled. “Meats and cheeses? A
store for the winter? What the hell are you talking about?”

Brick shook his head. “And you call yourself
a witch hunter.”

“I do not call myself a witch hunter, you
do. And you'd better pay for all the food you ate, mister.”

“Pay? How would I pay?”

He was playing dumb; of course Brick knew
what money was. Or at least she hoped he did. She was on a budget,
and if Brick had cleaned her fridge out, it would be grass and
water for her.

Brick sighed and stood up. He shifted his
shoulders around as if he was getting ready for some action, the
leather of his jacket squeaking. “Are you ready for some witch
hunting tonight?”

She didn't answer. She crossed her arms and
held them there. As she stood, Brick several meters from her, her
sell-out corgi looking up at him with adoring eyes, she paused.

Just how much did she know about this man?
Other than the fact he dressed like a Jackaroo and could produce
Harleys out of thin air.

“Does something bother you, Warrior Woman
Henrietta?”

“Yes, you do. I want to know more about you,
I want to know more about this situation. You told me a little
yesterday, but I need to know more. Just who are these witches and
where did they come from? And more to the point, if you have been
looking for me for 350 years, then how old are you?” Her questions
came out in a jumble, her thoughts pitching around her mind like
ships in a storm.

“Witches are your enemy. I’ve told you that
before.”

“I don't want your black-and-white answers.
You tell me who they are, where they come from, and what they are
after. If I am meant to fight these... creatures, then I need to
know everything about them.”

Brick sighed, reached up, took his hat off,
and crammed it into the pocket of his jacket. “It’s hard to
explain. But with time you will understand the witches. For now, I
can tell you of their origin. They are a race that parallels
humanity; as humans have developed, so have the witches.”

“But who are they?”

“They are a kind of magical race. They are,
if you forgive the term, evil,” he growled.

“Evil?” Henrietta took a large and loud
swallow. She didn't believe in evil, and she didn't believe in
black-and-white answers, but there was something about the way
Brick spoke that gave her pause for thought.

“They are malicious, they are murderers, and
they will act in any way they can to take advantage of
humanity.”

“But why?”

Brick shook his head. “They are evil,” he
answered again, and there was a note of gravitas in his voice. It
made her shut up and listen.

He sighed, it was heavy, and riveted her
attention.

“To be honest, Warrior Woman Henrietta, I
have no good answer for you. I have been searching this earth for
350 years for you, and in that time the legends of the witches have
passed. I have held onto what knowledge I have, and so has the
warrior monk class, but the true origins and nature of the witches
were always held with the witch hunters.”

She watched him, her eyes wide with
interest. “And… they are all dead.”

“No, they are not all dead; you are alive.
But unfortunately the knowledge that was held with the other witch
hunters... that is gone forever.”

She felt uneasy at his answer. She didn't
like being in a position where she didn't understand what she was
fighting and what was happening to her; it made it impossible to
make a reasoned decision.

“But I can tell you this, there are other
kinds of witches that differ from that which you have already
encountered.”

She frowned. “What do you mean other
kinds?”

He started to count on his fingers. “There
are water witches, snow witches, lightning witches – and you really
don't want to meet those ones.... Now, let's see, what else? Oh,
there are King Witches and Queen Witches.”

“King Witches? What do you mean? I thought
all witches were women?”

“You thought wrong.”

“But what’s a King Witch?”

“Ah, it is good you have brought this up.”
He patted down his jacket and sat heavily on her bed.

Henrietta wanted to shout at him to get off
her bed, but he raised a hand, and that ominous look returned to
his gaze.

“A King Witch is in town,” Brick’s voice
rang low with warning.

She shivered.

“It’s only a rumor for now, but I have heard
from my fellow warrior monk brethren that such a creature is at
large in this city. It is quite possible this man has been here for
some time, and that only now we have become aware of his
presence.”

She clamped her lip between her teeth as a
queasy feeling curdled in her gut. “Okay... but… then when do we go
and get him?”

Brick beamed. “I am gladdened that you are
finally taking this seriously.” He shook his head in large sweeps.
“But you are not ready to face the King Witches yet.”

A cold pressure spread through her chest.
“What do you mean?”

“A King Witch or a Queen Witch has access to
a great deal more power than any other type. While a fire witch can
only command fire, a water witch water, and a lightning witch
lightning, a King and Queen Witch can command all sorts of
spells.”