The Enchanted Writes Book One

  Chapter Seven

  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 t
old 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.”

  Instinctively she clutched her hairpin and pulled it free. She pressed it close to her chest.

  Brick watched her move with interest, then cleared his throat. “They are also... indistinguishable from ordinary humanity. While the fire witch or water witch will stay close to the dark, to the shadows, and never come out, a King and Queen Witch are well-schooled in human behaviors. They can go unnoticed amongst people, they can buy houses in suburbia, even keep up the pretense of having a normal job and family....”

  Wow. That was creepy.

  A tumble of nerves jumbled in her gut, sending sharp shivers climbing her back and shoulders.

  “And not only do they command a great many spells, but they can command other witches. They serve as a point of organization. A King or Queen Witch can command a coven, delegating tasks, building power.”

  She kept pawing at her hairpin; it was the only thing that could calm her.

  “So, believe me when I say, Warrior Woman Henrietta, you are not yet ready to fight a King Witch. However, if the reports are correct, and one has moved into this town, then one day you must address this threat. But not today.” Brick shook his head with finality.

  “But when? I mean, if this King Witch is such a threat... shouldn't we address it as soon as we can?” She wasn’t usually this proactive, but the very thought of this Witch King gave her the creeps. She wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing he was out there.

  “When you are ready. There are still many witches in this town of lower grade and skill, and it is upon these that you must practice. But we will have the goal of one day working up to the Witch King.” Brick lifted his chin, and his eyes sparkled with determination.

  “Witch King...” she said, but as she did, she rubbed her hand too far down the hairpin, and cut her thumb along the sharp side. With a yelp, she dropped it.

  The hairpin landed on her bare floorboards, just past her rug. She didn't immediately lean down to pluck it up, which was a mistake. Within several seconds the wood began to smoke.

  Sucking on her thumb, she snapped down with her good hand and grabbed it up.

  She turned to Brick. “Just why the hell does this hairpin burn wood?”

  Brick shrugged. “I will be honest with you, Warrior Woman Henrietta, I do not know. That hairpin is a transformation wand of a warrior woman witch hunter. And I am a warrior monk. The secrets of its design and use are not held with my clan.”

  Great. Another answer that didn’t answer anything. “And another thing, now I come to think of it, if you knew this burnt wood, then why didn't you warn me when you gave it to me?”

  Brick narrowed his eyes, his lips pressing up, his face twisting around in confusion. “Sorry?”

  “When you left this hairpin for me in that manila package in the bathroom of Sizzle Cafe. If you knew that it burnt any wood around it, then why the hell did you leave it so close to the wooden door? And why didn't you warn me? Why didn't you give it to me in person? I could have bloody well died that day. It made the wooden door burst into flames.” Her eyes were blazing.

  “But I did warn you. Written on the inside of the packet was a warning about the hairpin.” He looked entirely unapologetic, and shot her a look that said she was overreacting.

  Well she wasn't bloody overreacting.

  “This could have burnt my house down. Why didn't you give it to me in person? Why did you bloody well leave it in a manila packet tucked into the U bend of the toilet? What would have happened if I hadn't found it?”

  “But you did find it. And you didn't die. It didn't burn down your house.”

  Henrietta clutched her hands tighter. “You are infuriating, Brick. I can't believe you are being so unapologetic.”

  Brick replied with another easy shrug.

  She wanted to hit him. Instead she held onto her hairpin and took an enormous breath. “And another thing, if this hairpin burns wood, how come it seems to be okay when I'm holding it? I mean, I understand that if it touches wood, it'll singe within minutes or even seconds, but if it's even close to wood it does the same. But I've been walking around all day long next to a whole bunch of wooden benches, but nothing ever happened, why?” She crossed her arms carefully, not wanting to stab herself in the chest with the pin.

  ??
?Because you contain the magic.”

  “What kind of an answer is that?” She glared at him.

  “The correct answer. Now, Warrior Woman Henrietta, you have received your explanations. We must go to fight the witches.” He pushed up from the bed, patted down his giant billowing pants, and pulled his hat from his pocket, slamming it on his head.

  “Not so fast, Mister, you have left one thing out. Just how old are you?”

  “I have already located another fire witch, and we must get to work before she can do anything we will regret.”

  “Seriously, how old are you?”

  Brick nodded at the hairpin. “It is time to write the word witch hunter in the air and to transform.”

  “Brick, how old are you?”

  No matter how many times she asked, he would not answer. And soon enough she gave up and transformed.

  Henrietta Gosling turned into a warrior woman witch hunter, and then she followed the infuriating Brick out the door.