The Enchanted Writes Book One (22 page)

Eventually Henrietta walked into the
kitchen, though she still couldn't face the prospect of food, even
though Brick thought that was the craziest thing he’d ever heard,
and kept trying to force a chicken wing in her mouth.

She resisted, and time moved on. Soon she
was standing back in the lounge room with Brick, and he was
encouraging her to transform. He had already changed clothes, and
true to his word, he had taken off his leather jacket and was now
dressed in a suit.

Brick, the crazy warrior monk, actually
looked handsome. The cut of his suit, the shine of his shoes, and
the way his cuff links sat next to his wrists – he looked
incredibly stylish. And in control too; he had the kind of
countenance and ease of expression that oozed charm. Except the
only problem was, Henrietta knew Brick, and Brick had exactly zero
charm. Still, he did look the part. And Marcia was going to go gaga
over him.

“You must now transform or we will be late.”
Brick nodded at her, fixing his cuff links as he did.

Once more Henrietta told herself that she
could do this, and once more she chased away that feeling. The one
that had taken up root somewhere in her stomach, the one she was
trying to deny like crazy.

She brought up her hairpin, and she
transformed into a witch hunter.

After the magic had taken hold, and her
hairpin had changed into her wand, she wrote the words disguise me,
and within seconds the spell had taken effect. In a puff of white
light, shooting sparks that looked like stars, and crackles of
energy that suspiciously took on the form of butterflies, Henrietta
Gosling changed from a witch hunter into what was ostensibly a
princess.

In a second her feet touched back down on
the ground, her perfect white heels tapping against the carpet and
the floorboards underneath. She patted down on her dress, and
couldn't help but smile, and as she did the wand in her hand
transformed in its own rush of sparks, until it was a beautiful
silk fan tied around her wrist in ribbon.

Brick had brought out the mirror again, and
she turned to it, staring at her reflection.

Henrietta looked just exactly how she’d
dreamed and fantasized of looking when she’d been a child. The
dress, the hair, the mask, it was perfect. It was out of her own
fairytale, it was out of a movie, it was something that couldn't
really exist.

“Come along.” Brick held out his arm to her.
“It's time to take the witch hunter to the ball.”

Despite her feelings, Henrietta cracked a
smile.

Because even though she looked like a
princess on the outside, underneath she was still a witch hunter.
Even if the fear had caught hold of her for the better part of the
past two weeks, she had to remember that fact. She was no ordinary
Henrietta Gosling anymore; she was a warrior woman, as Brick always
pointed out to her. And surely a warrior woman could handle a
ball.

Brick left her close to the City Hall, and
Henrietta walked the last block on her own.

She was no stranger to walking around the
city in a costume these days. Still, she couldn't help but note the
glances she got from passers-by.

They looked flabbergasted, and if they were
men, they blushed too.

Eventually Henrietta made it to City Hall,
and then she walked up the steps, her heels clicking against the
stone. Several people were standing around, milling about before
they went into the party, and every single one of them turned to
watch her.

She recognized some of them. One or two were
friends of Marcia’s, a couple were politicians, and one woman
Henrietta could swear was the anchor for the local news. They all
stared at her, gob smacked.

She felt like opening her fan, bringing it
up to her face, and quickly blushing behind it. Instead she crested
the steps and walked into City Hall.

It was a large building and had three
floors. The main ball, or the ball for the plebs as Marcia had put
it, was to be held on the bottom floor. The special guests who had
been invited by Mr Hellier himself or who had paid a bucket load
for tickets, would be able to mingle on the second floor. The third
floor, as far as Henrietta knew, would not be used tonight.

Henrietta had tried to buy a ticket for the
special function with Mr Hellier, but unfortunately they were sold
out. She'd found out about the ball late, after all, and according
to Marcia, the special tickets had sold like hotcakes. Even one of
Brick's warrior monk brethren hadn’t been able to secure her a
ticket. But according to Brick, that wouldn’t be a problem. All
Henrietta had to do was stick around downstairs until she got
enough attention. Then, surely, she would be invited to the second
floor to meet Hellier.

Henrietta had several misgivings about that
plan, mostly because it sounded like it was out of a storybook.
Real princesses, in fairy tales, might get away with turning up to
the ball without a ticket and just sitting in the corner looking
pretty until the Prince noticed them. But that probably wasn't
going to work here. Or at least Henrietta hoped it wouldn't.
Because if it didn’t, then she would never have to stare at Hellier
again, note his expression, see the interest and power widening his
eyes....

Henrietta shook her head quickly as that
thought crossed through her mind. Then she brought out her ticket
and handed it to the man standing just inside the large doors that
led into City Hall.

He kept looking at her as she handed him the
ticket, and it seemed to take a great deal of effort on his behalf
to tear his gaze off her outfit and onto the piece of paper in his
hand. Eventually he mumbled an “okay," and gestured to the hall
with an arm.

Henrietta mumbled a “thank you," then walked
away.

Though the ball was not meant to start for
another 40 minutes, the place was already packed. Unlike the guests
on the steps outside, everyone here had already put their masks on.
Still, Henrietta didn't have too much trouble recognizing people.
She saw a woman Marcia worked with, and then she saw the Fire
Chief, then she even saw the old lady that lived down the street
and kept trying to get Henrietta to go to bingo.

While Henrietta recognized them, it didn't
appear that anyone recognized her. No one came up and asked how
Marcia was, and neither did they ask how Henrietta's parents were.
They looked at her with wide, astounded expressions, but that was
it. And as she walked past, they would always turn to talk amongst
themselves in hushed whispers.

It suddenly dawned on her when she had
walked all the way into the hall that she would likely be doing a
lot of waiting tonight. Standing up in these heels, no doubt
leaning against the wall like the world's most overdressed
wallflower, and waiting, and waiting. But fortunately considering
she had transformed, and she was technically a witch hunter under
this disguise, she felt stronger, and she was a great deal steadier
in her shoes. Still, it was going to be boring.

Or at least Henrietta thought it would
be.

Usually when she went to parties she would
quickly find herself pushed into the kitchen, or out onto the
porch, or anywhere that was away from everybody else. More often
than not, people would get bored of her conversation and run off to
find her sister.

Today it was different. Today, Henrietta
felt swamped.

First it was the waiter who offered her a
drink and then hung about at her side telling her how fantastic her
outfit was. Then one of Jimmy’s friends she recognized as
Rodriguez, came up to her and complimented her on her hairpiece.
Then it was the guy from the video store who grabbed another drink
and offered it to her, despite the fact she had hardly touched her
first one.

Henrietta had men all around her, and she
could hardly move for compliments.

At one point, however, she did see briefly
through the gap between the several fireman and bank managers who
were standing just to her left, and she caught a glimpse of a very
familiar face.

Brick. And on his arm was Marcia. She was
hanging off Brick, leaning into him, depositing her bosom on his
arm, and fixing him with the most seductive looks.

Brick hardly glanced at her. He did look at
Henrietta though, and he offered her a quick nod.

It made Henrietta shudder with nerves.

Brick had assured her that if his plan did
not succeed, and she was not mysteriously tapped on the shoulder
and invited to join everyone else on the second floor, then he and
his warrior monk brethren would intervene. Henrietta didn't know
what that would entail, and she hoped that they would fail.

She kept glancing up to the ceiling above
her, imagining who was up there, and, more importantly, him. The
Witch King.

When the ball officially started at 6:45, it
was to the sound of a town crier ringing a bell. The noise shifted
through Henrietta and gave her the most flighty and sudden feeling.
She clutched at her fan and had to fight the desire to write the
word flee.

Something was going to happen tonight, her
instincts screamed at her, and no matter how much she tried to push
them away, they wouldn't be pushed.

It wasn't until 7:05 that anything happened.
Just as John Farley, a renowned architect, asked for her number,
Henrietta got a tap on the shoulder. She practically stumbled over
from surprise, her heart threatening to stop right in her chest.
She was that tense, that overcome.

When she turned, it was not to meet
Hellier's gaze. Rather it was to meet the gaze of the aptly named
Spanner.

He was dressed in a black suit and had a
badge that red security. He winked at her knowingly and shifted his
head towards the ceiling. “If you will accompany me, madam, there
is somebody who would like to meet you.”

Henrietta followed Spanner as he led the way
through the crowd. She clutched at her skirts so they didn't get
caught up in her heels.

She clutched harder and harder the closer
they neared the stairs, and as they finally climbed them, her hands
began to shake.

At the top of the stairs were several
security guards, standing with their hands held in front of them,
their eyes darting around the room and over the stairs, no doubt
looking for hopeful stragglers who wanted to race up to the second
floor uninvited.

They didn't stop Spanner and Henrietta, but
moved to the side as they neared.

Spanner led her down the hall, and paused
just outside of the function room. He turned to her. “It was almost
impossible to get you in, I had to pose as a security guard,” he
noted conspiratorially, patting down on his jacket as he did. “But
it has worked; you are here finally.”

Henrietta looked at the closed doors in
front of her. They were large, and even though doors usually didn't
bother her, she suddenly got the impression they were like the
gates to Hell.

She clutched at her stomach now, flattening
her hands over the tight fabric of her bodice.

“You mean, nobody is expecting me? I don't
have a real invite?”

Spanner shook his head. “Hopefully no one
will notice. I've got you this far, and I doubt the people in there
know who is on the invite list. There are only guests inside; we
security guards are expected to stop anyone else from
entering.”

She nodded. “Okay,” she said in a light and
shaky voice.

Then she couldn't hide from it any longer,
because Spanner opened the door, and Henrietta Gosling walked into
the function room.

Brick and Marcia had managed to get tickets
to the special function, or at least Marcia had. Marcia had pulled
strings that only she could pull, and had bought herself tickets
after they had all been sold out. When Henrietta had begged her
sister to try and grab another ticket, Marcia hadn't bothered.
After all, why would Henrietta go to a ball, and why on earth would
she want to pay the extra money to go upstairs to mingle with the
city's finest? Henrietta had no business doing anything with the
city's finest apart from serving them coffee.

Yet Henrietta was now here, walking
carefully into the room, trying to make herself as invisible as
possible. She wanted to clutch at her fan and write the word
invisible, just to see what would happen.

But in her current outfit there would be no
way that Henrietta could pass unnoticed.

She walked past Frank Apple, one of the
city's richest investors, and the man stopped talking to the Mayor,
just to ogle Henrietta's way. The same pattern was repeated the
further she walked into the room. Though she held onto her fan as
tightly as she could, and tried to walk as quietly as her heels
would let her, it wouldn't work; people turned her way and they
stared.

So of course it didn't take long for her to
come to his attention, not long at all.

Henrietta had come to a rest on the other
side of the room, next to the large and ornate windows that stared
out onto the city. She had turned her back from the party, taking a
much-needed moment to calm herself as she stared at the view.

That was when a hand rested slightly on her
shoulder, and a voice puffed past her ear. “Do I know you?”

She turned on her heel. It was him. Witch
King Hellier.

He was close to her, too close for personal
space, and he took a moment to straighten up as he stepped back. He
never took his eyes off her, and they continued to sparkle, that
look of interest burning within.

Henrietta was frozen, and it took him to
repeat his question before she stuttered out a “no."

“I must admit, I do not recognize you,” he
mumbled as he looked at her dress and mask. “I don't suppose it
would be untoward to ask you to let me in on your secret?”

Her breath froze in her chest, and her eyes
widened so far she must have looked like a deer in the headlights.
“What do you mean?” her voice was a mumble, and it was so quiet
that Hellier had to shift forward to pick it up.