by A C Spahn
Kendall pursed her lips. “Adrienne?”
“I’ll be fine,” I said. “Go make sure Sam and Desmond don’t break anything.”
She sniffed and spun on her heel, giving Harrow a cool stare before stomping off.
He held open the door. “After you.”
We stepped into Harrow’s office and he shut the wooden door behind us with a soft click.
The first time I’d met him, he’d had Axel outside standing guard, but since then his precautions had relaxed. For one thing, I needed him, and he knew it. For another, he was a Void, and a strong one. Even stronger than Desmond, from what I’d heard. It wasn’t like I could do much to hurt him. If I had magic to draw upon, I supposed I could enchant the desk to fly forward and crush him, but I doubted I’d manage it before he took me out. It wasn’t like I had an easy focus for such an enchantment at hand, and I lacked the raw strength of a ghost to throw heavy objects under my own power.
Harrow’s office boasted the same tall windows as the rest of the floor. In the daytime, the city’s skyline would reflect on the huge mirror mounted to one wall, but now, it held only shadows. The remaining wall held a trio of swords–a fencing rapier, a Roman gladius, and a gold-plated broadsword the size of me. The blades were all practically shaped and razor sharp, with no embellishments on their hilts or crosspieces. Meant for killing, and nothing else. Though the gold one would at least look neat while hacking your body in two.
I claimed the single cushy chair facing his desk before he could sit, and arranged myself in a posture of ease, leaning back, arms on the armrests. A pleasant numbness kept my arm wounds from aching. “I’m here. What do you want?”
His smile vanished at once. “Housekeeping first. You dealt with the ghost?”
“Yes.”
“How did you use the magic you drew from her?”
Wordlessly I passed him the enchanted rose from my tie-dye purse. He arched an eyebrow, studying the thorns. “This is the magic?” he asked, pointing to the grey line twining its way up the stem.
I nodded.
“What does it do?”
“The ghost’s corpse was an older woman. Her enchantment aided memory. I think she must have had dementia, and sought out an enchanter to help fight it.” I jerked my chin at the rose. “Anyone touching that won’t ever lose their keys or forget something from their shopping list. It’s a memory aid.”
Harrow set the rose on a corner of his desk as if it might bite him. “When we formed this partnership, you agreed to make enchantments to aid the Union in peacekeeping. A memory enhancer is hardly useful in combat. Can it even be used by my people?”
“It’ll work for weaker Voids, and the handful of non-Voids in your organization. As for the enchantment itself, I worked with what I had. You can’t just force magic to do something completely new after it’s already been doing something else.”
“Still. I had hoped after this many months working together, we would have more to show from you.”
Goosebumps puckered my skin. “Is that a threat?”
“No. A statement of fact.” He faced me sternly, no trace of mirth in his face. “Believe me, Miss Morales, I will not withdraw our offer of protection without enormous cause. We do not want you meeting the same fate as that unfortunate young man you found in the cemetery.”
My jaw tightened. “Whoever killed him didn’t see me. They couldn’t have.”
“And yet you sit there gripping my chair handles as if you want to strangle them.”
I forced my grip to loosen on the chair. “They didn’t recognize me.”
“Repeating that more times won’t make you more sure of it.” Harrow leaned forward. “I know you don’t trust us.”
“You accused me of using harmful magic and threatened to execute me. You’re holding the threat of my cult over my head, taunting me that they’ll eventually track me down if I don’t have your protection. Your underlings don’t like me, and half of them think I should be put down like a rabid dog just for being what I am. No, Bane Harrow, I don’t trust you at all.”
His lips thinned. “We’ve earned that, I suppose. Still, you must believe that I want to help you. We need each other, Adrienne.”
“You’ve said that before. I know why I need you, but every time we talk you complain about the enchantments I’ve made for you. Any other Union Legionnaire would have forced me to start making magical weapons for him by now, if he hadn’t killed me when he first found me. What exactly are you getting from me, Harrow? Why do you need me? Why do you need an enchantress at all?”
Harrow’s eyes narrowed. “When we first found you, I thought you might just be another rogue enchantress hiding her powers to avoid Union oversight. Stronger than any other we oversee, by a fair factor, but still just a typical rogue. Then I learned about your ... condition.” His gaze flicked briefly to my heart. Though my shirt covered the tattoo, I felt exposed. He went on as if he hadn’t just pointed out my greatest vulnerability. “Your ability to handle magic is extraordinary. Far beyond the average enchanter. Ordinarily we would never have had a chance to get our hands on you. No fleshwriter cult would have ever let you go. They’d have done whatever was necessary to make you happy and keep your loyalty.”
I scoffed. “Yeah, about that.”
He smiled thinly. “They would have kept you close, ordinarily. But they didn’t. They used your magical potential to betray you. And now you fear them as fiercely as any Void. Your power, and your isolation, Adrienne–those are the two reasons I recruited you. But that did not guarantee you were right for the job. I’ve watched you these past months. Evaluated your magical abilities. Reached conclusions about your moral fiber. I’m now certain I made the right decision. Which brings us to the reason we needed to meet.” He opened his laptop and tapped a few keys. “I told you before that the supernatural world is in trouble. You want to know the reason I recruited an enchantress? Here it is.”
Turning the laptop toward me, he revealed a map of the United States, Canada, and Mexico. Black dots of varying sizes studded the map, mostly around large cities, though a few appeared in the middle of nowhere. “These are Void Unions,” said Harrow. He tapped a key. Red dots appeared as well, again mostly centered around cities, but none of them within a hundred miles of a black dot. My eyes immediately went to the largest red dot, located in Virginia, just outside Washington, D.C.
“Fleshwriter cults,” said Harrow, confirming my thought. “Those we know about, at least.” He tapped a finger on the Virginia red dot. “Geralt Sauvage’s cult. Almost two hundred members, at our last estimate.”
“I told you one hundred.”
“Your information is a bit outdated.” He pointed to the black dot near San Francisco. “We’re the third largest Void Union in the United States, and even we only have a few hundred people.”
“Why are you showing me this?” The red dot in Virginia seemed to be staring at me. I did my best not to look at it. “I know they’re a danger to me. One hundred or two, it doesn’t make much difference.”
“I’m not trying to intimidate you.” The earnestness in Harrow’s voice startled me. He stared down at the screen. “This map is from last year. The Unions held about three times as much territory as the cults. The cults were also smaller and less connected, prone to fighting amongst themselves and killing each other off.”
He fixed me with a penetrating stare. “What I am about to say does not leave this room. Only a few Voids know it, Legionnaires and a handful of trusted subordinates. If I hear anyone in my organization repeating this information, I will assume it came from you, and no matter how much I need you, you will not live to see sunset. Understood?”
I swallowed. “Understood.”
He paused, and if I didn’t know better I’d have thought he was steeling himself. Then he tapped another button.
Black dots began vanishing, flicking out one by one. First the smaller dots, but then larger ones, simply winking out of existence. At first I tried to
keep count, but soon I lost track as more and more Unions ceased to be.
Harrow pointed to a medium-sized dot near Cabo San Lucas. “Office fire engulfed the building. Forty-five Voids dead. Premises too charred to collect evidence.” The dot disappeared. He pointed to another near Toronto. “Gas leak exploded. Twenty Voids. No usable evidence.” Another dot gone. He kept pointing. “Car fire. Five Voids. Ceiling collapse leading to electric fire. Thirteen Voids.” More and more.
When the map finally stopped changing, over two dozen black dots had disappeared. Bane Harrow leaned over the table with the open laptop lurking between us. “Every incident can be attributed to tragic accident, but the pattern is clear. Someone is targeting the Unions, Miss Morales. Someone is systematically hunting down Voids, opening up previously protected territory for all kinds of magical unrest. And they’re covering up their tactics with these fires, keeping us from learning their actual methods. In the places with fallen Unions, other paranormals now use their powers to steal, rape, and kill without fear. Even in areas we still control, magical unrest is growing. Our ghost problem is just one such example. More importantly, in the areas where Void oversight was removed, missing persons reports have doubled.”
I flinched. “The cults. They’re taking people?”
He nodded. “We don’t know if they’re recruiting members or collecting victims, but more and more people are being affected. According to our databases, many of the missing are known or suspected paranormals.”
“Taken to harvest their magic.”
“Or to send a message to the rest of the paranormal community and keep them obedient to the cults. Most of these attacks hit smaller Unions, staffed by weaker Voids, but they’re getting bolder.” He watched me closely. “You know what this means.”
The dot for Geralt’s cult loomed large in my sight. “War.”
Harrow nodded. “The cults are striking out against Void control. Someone is coordinating them, convincing them to work together against us. I told you before that the number of paranormals has increased too fast for the Unions to control, that we need to begin working with shifters, the empowered, and even enchantresses to keep our world from destroying itself.” He tapped the laptop. “That destruction has begun, Adrienne. I want you to help me stop it.”
“I don’t know what you want me to do. I’m just one enchanter. If the fleshwriter cults are unified against you ...”
“Every revolution has a leader. We have good reason to believe this one is led by the man who enchanted you.”
“Geralt,” I whispered. The name sent splinters into my tongue.
“You’ve told us everything you know about his cult, but when this war comes to a head, he’s going to be leading the charge. It’s one thing to know about your enemy, but you know the enemy, Adrienne. He practically raised you. When Geralt Sauvage and his followers bring this war to us, I want–I need–you by my side. Otherwise I, and the hundreds who follow me, are going to disappear like so many pixels on a screen.”
I sat frozen, weight settling onto my shoulders. “I can help you prepare for magical attacks. Drill your people in confronting enchanters. But I’m not a battle strategist.”
“I know. The Unions are planning counterstrikes, but we need more information. Information that is difficult for us to get, without any magic ourselves. Obviously I don’t want you to take chances that might result in your capture, but you’ve proven yourself clever. The boy from the cemetery was in San Francisco for a reason. I want you to figure out what that reason is. Did he escape the cult and come here on his own? Did the fleshwriters bring him? What did they intend to do with the magic tied up in his tattoo?”
“I don’t even know what they planned to do with mine.”
“Then find out. Solve this murder for me, Miss Morales. The fleshwriters turned you into a walking cache of magic, and now they’ve done the same with others. They’re replaced you, in effect. This is the best lead we’ve found to figure out what Geralt Sauvage’s final plan is, how he intends to take on the strongest Void Unions. Find that out for me, and you very well might save the magical world.” He settled back in his chair, watching me. “All the resources of my organization are at your disposal.”
Resources who hated me, or at least mistrusted me. “I’d rather work with my friends for now.”
“Very well. But if you need any assistance, funds, access to information, contact me. I will respond as soon as I am able.”
Several minutes later, as Harrow’s door shut behind me and I found myself in the empty rows of cubicles once more, I couldn’t shake the echoes of his words out of my head. Protect the Void Unions. Root out Geralt’s plan. Save the magical world.
“No pressure,” I muttered, and started down the aisle toward my waiting friends.
Chapter 4
“YOU LOOK LIKE A GHOST,” said Kendall. “At least, a ghost that hasn’t been dispelled by an enchantress yet. Did big bad Bane Harrow scare you that much? I’m supposed to be the pale one here. Well, me and the kid.” Sam rolled her eyes.
When I didn’t respond, Kendall’s face grew concerned. “Yo. Amiga. You okay?”
I shook my head and lied easily. “I’m fine. It was just more intimidation.”
“He’s not locking you up here, is he?”
“No. The opposite, in fact. He told me I’d better find the killers.”
Sam stiffened. “He doesn’t think we did it, does he?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Guilty conscience?” muttered Kendall. Fortunately Sam didn’t hear.
“I’m sure,” I said. “But since I do work for him, I have to start investigating.”
“Where do we start?” asked Kendall.
“With research.”
“My favorite.”
“Meet me at the store tomorrow, okay? I’ll catch up with you guys then.”
“You mean Wednesday,” said Desmond. “Tomorrow we have our booth at the Ren Faire.”
My exhausted brain fumbled for a memory. Desmond and I were supposed to work a craft booth at the local Renaissance Faire while Kendall minded the store. “Right. You guys go home, and I’ll see you later. Sam, return that bracelet this week and we’ll work on tracking magic next week.”
“You’re staying for a bit?” asked Desmond. “Do you want one of us to come with you?”
I forced a smile onto my face. “All the Voids know I’m Harrow’s pet enchantress. They won’t hurt me. It’ll just be a few minutes. There’s ... someone I need to see while we’re here.”
Sam flushed, and her gaze darted ashamedly to the floor. She swallowed hard. “I ... I could come ... if you think ...”
“You’ve visited her before,” I said softly. “You don’t have to come now, unless you want to.”
Sam forcefully shook her head, though she didn’t raise her gaze.
We boarded the elevator together. Kendall punched the ground floor button. I hit another. When the elevator stopped, the doors opened to reveal a small waiting area with padded chairs and last month’s magazines. A wooden door painted a soothing cream color led to the rest of the floor, flanked on either side by frosted glass walls. With a deep breath, I stepped off the elevator.
Desmond quietly said, “Don’t berate yourself too long.”
I winced at his bluntness. “I won’t.” I watched the doors close on my friends before turning to face the cream-colored door. A sign proclaimed the floor’s purpose in a businesslike font.
Psychiatric Ward.
Taking a deep breath, I headed inside.
In a wide hallway beyond the glass-paned barrier, a desk squatted before a locked metal door. The receptionist knew me, and knew who I was here to see. She buzzed me into the secured hallway with a nod, though she couldn’t hide all the displeasure on her face at my presence.
Inside, the hallway continued to the end of the building, lined on both sides by identical grey doors. My purple tennis shoes squeaked softly on the til
e floor as I passed room upon room. I knew what I would see if I stopped to look through the one-way glass inset into each door. The first door on the left held a dog shifter who had stayed in canine form too long, forgetting he was also human. His room had an expensive dog bed, an array of squeaky toys, food and water bowls. Some Void was paid to take him for a walk each day. His name had been Mark, or so I’d heard. The next room was mostly taken up by an enormous water tub, taller than me. A woman floated in it, gills on her neck flapping, sightless eyes white and milky. Rumor had it the Voids were negotiating with the Pacific Merfolk to take her in, but so far no agreement had been reached. Another man circled the edges of his cell, hoarse sounds creaking around the burn scars on his lips. He’d tried to become a pyromancer. It hadn’t worked. Next came a hunched, hairy thing that looked like a cross between dog and human, with canine snout and teeth, but disturbing pink flesh and a large hump between his shoulder blades. His room had a human bed as well as a dog bed, and his door was reinforced with steel and marked with a “Danger” sign.
Room upon room held the castoffs of the supernatural world, victims of botched enchantment. What would happen to them, I wondered, if the Void Union fell? If Geralt and his fleshwriters seized these people? Most likely they’d all become subjects for magical experimentation, I thought ruefully. And then, when there was no more magic that could be poured into them, they’d be discarded. Or worse, unleashed on the unsuspecting normals.
Yet another metal door blocked access to the last two rooms in the ward. A guard stood beside it, gun holstered at his hip, eyes tracking my approach. I recognized the posture of a warrior. This man wasn’t just some random Void with fighting experience, like Desmond. He was a professional. When not on Void duty, he’d either be military or police. If he was a strong enough Void, he might have even been hired full-time by the Union as one of their Hunters, those paid to oversee the rest of us.
The guard gave me a level stare and jerked his head toward a metal detector a few paces before the door. I removed my jewelry, bracelets, rings, necklace, all enchanted, plus another half dozen bracelets containing no magic. I dropped them into a tin bowl on a small table beside the metal detector, followed by my colorful purse.
