Enchantress Undercover

by A C Spahn

  Copyright 2018 by Amy Spahn

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law. For permissions, visit www.acspahn.com.

  The characters, places, and events in this book are fictitious, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Cover design by Jenny Zemanek at Seedlings Design Studio

  To Amani

  Enchantress Undercover

  Adrienne Morales is a hunted woman.

  Stalked by Voids—people immune to magic—and pursued by a deadly past, Adrienne wants nothing more than to avoid spells and sorcery. Her powers as an enchantress make that impossible. Every few days she must release the magic gathering around her, or it’ll steal her sanity. The only way to stay alive is to practice her magic in secret, hiding enchantments in works of art she sells in her craft store.

  When a fire-breathing psychopath controlled by enchantment tries to burn down her store, Adrienne unleashes her powers to stop him. Unfortunately her battle has a witness—Adrienne’s handsome business partner. Turns out he’s a Void, and sworn to a Union that executes rogue magic users. Worse, the fire breather isn’t the only victim to pop up around San Francisco. Someone is using magic to create monsters and destroy minds, and the Void Union wants them dead.

  Now Adrienne must capture the rogue enchanter before they ruin more innocent lives—and before the Voids punish her for the rogue’s crimes. But Voids aren’t the worst thing chasing her. Every enchantment she crafts makes it more likely her past will track her down. And if it does, madness will be the kindest fate awaiting her.

  Contents

  Enchantress Undercover

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Epilogue

  Enchantress Under Pressure

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  Other Books by A. C. Spahn

  Chapter 1

  MAGIC PULSED THROUGH THE AIR, resonating inside my skull with the rhythms of a brooding drummer. kadum ... kadum ... kadum. I tensed. A blob of hot glue dripped onto the back of my hand.

  “Gah!” I flinched. My glue gun clattered onto the worktable. Cursing under my breath, I peeled the congealing glue from my skin and rummaged under the counter for my first aid kit. If I was lucky, this burn wouldn’t go beyond first degree.

  “Oh dear,” said the silver-haired woman across the counter. A faint trace of an accent lingered in her voice. “Are you hurt, Adrienne?”

  I smiled at her as I smeared burn cream across my knuckles. “I’m fine, Mrs. J. This happens all the time. Occupational hazard.”

  “Do be more careful, girl. My heart can’t take startles like that.”

  I finished treating my hand and returned to my current project. The wind chime was nearly complete, hanging from a hook over my workspace so I could put on the finishing touches. A ring of solid oak formed its base, stained and varnished to give it a smooth finish. Fishing line dangled from the wood, suspending nine chimes of polished sea glass in lavender and cerulean. The chime danced in the sunlight pouring through the big windows at the front of the store.

  Kadum. Kadum. Kadum.

  Annoyed, I tried to ignore the magic. Couldn’t afford to reveal the supernatural world to a customer. Especially not Mrs. Jacinta, who might keel over from shock. I retrieved my glue gun and turned the oak base so that it faced me from the most flattering angle. With careful movements, I smeared hot glue across the back of a thin steel plate the size of a quarter, engraved with the silhouette of a wave breaking on the shore. I stuck the plate firmly on the side of the wood, and after letting it cool a moment I turned the wind chime to face Mrs. Jacinta. “What do you think?”

  Her warm brown eyes lit up. “Beautiful as always. How much?”

  Kadum! Another wave of magic pounded against my mind. Harder this time, like the engraved wave was smothering my thoughts. I braced myself on the counter, my deep beige skin a soft contrast to the dark wood of the workspace. “Ugh … this was a custom piece, so …”

  Mrs. Jacinta’s eyes became concerned. “Está enferma?”

  Kadum! Kadum! Kadum!

  “No,” I answered in English. “I’m not sick.”

  “Lo siento, mi querida artista,” said Mrs. J. “I always forget you don’t use your Spanish. Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “I’m fine.” I wasn’t fine. Magic closed in, weighing on my skin and burrowing into my bones, faster than usual. If I didn’t relieve the pressure soon, it would only get worse. Fortunately Mrs. Jacinta could help me. “Listen,” I said, “you mentioned this was a gift for your granddaughter?”

  She nodded. “For her new house. They just bought a place out in San Mateo. They’re going with a beach motif.”

  KADUM! KADUM!

  I fought not to shudder. “New house. That’s a big investment. Are they worried about the mortgage?”

  She frowned. The question was impertinent, but I had no time to think about that. “I suppose everybody worries about money in this economy,” she said. “Listen, dear, you don’t look well. Do you want to sit down?”

  “Just give me a minute. I’ll be all right. I forgot something on the chime.” Blinking to keep my vision clear, I unhooked the wind chime from the wood beam above the counter, then headed behind a folding screen embroidered with black and white flowers. The screen partitioned off a corner of my workspace, hiding it from public eyes.

  Once in privacy, I leaned against the wall and carefully laid the chimes on a metal worktable. I dug into the cabinets beneath the table, poring through small drawers stuffed with crafting materials and tools. Dried leaves, cardboard tubes, bits of wire and glass and ribbon. Frayed fabric edges, soda can tabs, screwdrivers, leather presses and drill bits. The tools of my trade. I pulled out a strip of leather cord, then continued searching.

  The magic was pressing harder now, trying to crush me beneath its weight. I felt it snaking around my chest, toward my heart. Not there, I thought, willing the magic away from that vulnerable spot. It retreated, barely. I had to hurry, but I couldn’t choose just anything. Selecting the wrong material could ruin the enchantment, not to mention Mrs. Jacinta’s granddaughter’s life.

  Nothing in the cabinets seemed right. Gritting my teeth, I returned to the counter and popped open the gate that separated my workshop from the rest of Crafter’s Haven. Mrs. Jacinta called a question after me, but I didn’t respond as I went searching through the aisles of art supplies.

  I found Kendall in the knitting section, sorting out balls of yarn that customers had misplaced. “Kendall, I need your wallet,” I said.

  My best friend spun toward me, her green eyes alarmed. Her dagger-shaped dangly earrings jingled as she looked me up and down. “You okay?”

  “Wallet,” I said, flinching as another wave of magic rolled over me. “Now.”

  Wordlessly she drew her duc
t tape wallet from her back pocket and passed it over. She’d made it herself with black tape and orange trim, and a little beaded zipper pull that read “404 Money Not Found.” I rummaged through the cash pocket until I found a smooth, new twenty. I yanked it out and returned the wallet.

  “You gonna give that back?” Kendall called as I rushed away.

  At my workspace, I flashed a reassuring smile at Mrs. Jacinta before ducking behind the partition. I slapped the twenty on the metal table beside the wind chime, then draped the leather cord across the two objects. I closed my eyes and reached into the fog of magic choking the air.

  May riches grace the home where this wind chime rings, I chanted in my mind. May poverty never find shelter there. May this be a talisman of plenty, a harbinger of abundance.

  I repeated the words as I felt the magic move, swirling around me, guided by my impromptu enchantment. I sent it into the twenty dollar bill, letting it absorb the money’s nature, the crispness of the paper, the smell of the ink, the financial security it represented. Once the magic had stewed there, I channeled it through the soft leather cord and into the engraved wave on the chime.

  When I opened my eyes, the enchantment had taken hold.

  ... kadum ... ... kadum ... ...

  The magical pressure around me eased. Tension faded from my muscles. Relieved, I took the wind chime and returned to the counter.

  “Oh,” exclaimed Mrs. Jacinta. “It’s beautiful! How did you get the wave that color of green?”

  I glanced down at the verdant gleam now filling the steel engraving. “Trade secret.”

  “It looks so natural, so gentle,” she said.

  I smiled. That would be the influence of the soft leather. I’d chosen well. “I’m glad you like it. The store has a booth at the art fair this weekend, so tell your friends to come check us out.”

  “Oh, wonderful. I always do.” She pulled out her wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

  I quoted her an amount that accounted for cost of materials plus my hours of work. She paid, and I wrapped the wind chime in butcher paper for her before she left with a bag full of other art supplies she’d bought from the store, along with a handmade Cinco de Mayo banner that was discounted post-holiday. I was of Colombian heritage, so I didn’t celebrate the day myself, but I kept a small part of my shop for other local artists to sell their work and gain exposure. These last two weeks, a Mexican artist had put up a dozen vibrant Cinco de Mayo decorations and even a handmade piñata. Almost all of them had sold right away. She paid me a small percentage of her sales to cover store costs, plus the displays drew in new business. My regular customers like Mrs. Jacinta appreciated the variety, too.

  Kendall came to find me a moment later. I passed her the twenty, and she took it with visible relief. “I was afraid you were going to burn it.”

  “That happened one time,” I said. “And I paid you back.”

  “Yeah, a month later.” Kendall leaned over the counter, trying to get a look at my partitioned workspace. “Soooo, was it bad?”

  “Kinda.” I remembered the magical pressure squeezing me like a vise. “Not as bad as the time I burned your money. I was able to channel the magic without damaging anything.”

  “What’d you make?”

  “Money charm, for Mrs. Jacinta’s granddaughter.”

  “Cool. When do I get a money charm?”

  I swatted her. “You know it doesn’t work like that. I can’t just go handing out enchanted talismans for everything. If the magic interacted badly with your condition—”

  “Yo, it’s not a disease.” Kendall winked at me, and rings of russet fur flashed around her eyes. Kendall was a squirrel shifter. That story about Merlin turning King Arthur into a squirrel? Completely true. Unlike most paranormals, though, Kendall had been born with her power.

  Enchanters like me had been screwing around with Earth’s magical field for centuries, channeling magic into talismans and people, creating creatures of the night. But only recently had global communications technology enabled those reshaped by magic to find each other and form communities. From those communities came relationships, and from those relationships came more paranormals, born under enchantment. The paranormal world still hid itself from the normals, but beneath the surface those touched by magic lived our secret lives.

  Kendall ran a hand through her spiky red hair, and the fur around her eyes disappeared. “But seriously. I have finals next week. Any chance you could make me a little good luck charm?”

  I shook my head. “You’re already holding too much magic. If I link more to you, I can’t say how the enchantments will interact. Besides, I don’t think even magic could help you pass calculus.”

  “Please. Calc is easy. It’s linear algebra that’s a killer.” Kendall stuck her tongue out at me, then turned as the store’s door opened, jangling the bells hung over it. “Speaking of charming things.”

  Desmond Desoto stepped inside the store, and my heart did a cartwheel. The owner of Crafter’s Haven was tall and fit, and the dark denim jacket he wore accentuated his broad shoulders and heavy musculature. Sawdust from his woodshop flecked his jeans. His light brown features were angular and smooth, except a faint dent in his nose where he’d broken it in a staged swordfight at the Renaissance Faire. He wore his black hair long and tousled to cover his big ears, but they stuck out adorably beneath it anyway.

  Pressure buzzed on my skin as he approached, though this had nothing to do with magic. “Hey Desmond,” I said. “Having fun playing with your power tools?”

  “Always,” he said. “If you’re ever done tinkering with your beads and paste, I’ll show you what real craftsmanship is.”

  We glared at each other. I broke first, my lips curving into a smile. It was an old game between us, arguing over whose artistic medium was superior.

  Desmond grinned, nodding to my messy work space. “Busy day?”

  “One commission. Mostly I’ve been doing pieces for the site.” I had an online shop where I sold my work, though the art classes I taught at Crafter’s Haven, plus special requests from in-store customers, paid half my bills.

  “You ready for the art fair? You’ll have a whole table to yourself.”

  “Mostly. I have a few things to finish up. How much do I owe you?”

  He shook his head. “You don’t have to pay me, Adrienne.”

  “Booths at these things aren’t cheap. The least I can do is cover my share.”

  “The rent you pay for your workspace is enough.” Desmond rapped his knuckles on my counter. “Besides, I know how hard it is to make money doing your little crafty projects.”

  I smirked and swatted his hand away. “I’m paying my part. And at least my art is genuinely artistic. How hard is it to make a table?”

  “Pretty hard, actually. Plus there’s the risk of cutting your fingers off, which appeals to my masculine sensibilities.”

  “Yeah, well ... I dripped hot glue on my knuckles this morning.”

  “Ooh, burn.”

  Kendall made a face.

  “What?” asked Desmond. “Too on the nose?”

  “Like a swollen pimple.”

  “Harsh.” Desmond raised an eyebrow and made a production of scanning the store. “Am I paying you to hang out and socialize?”

  “Nope,” said Kendall. “You pay me to be awesome.”

  He laughed again, a rich bass sound. “Fair enough. If customers come in, I expect you to be awesome at the register.”

  Kendall saluted.

  Desmond headed for the back of the store. “Sorry to leave, ladies, but my caveman senses are tingling. There’s some dead trees that need carving.”

  “Try not to lose any body parts,” I called.

  He flashed his own salute before disappearing between the aisles.

  Once he was out of earshot, Kendall leaned across the counter again. “Would you guys just admit how you feel and make out already?”

  My cheeks burned, and I busied myself with stri
nging beads on a wire bracelet. “I’m not making the first move.”

  “Why the hell not? I would.”

  “He’s a normal, Kendall. He can’t really know me.”

  “He might surprise you. You can trust him.”

  “The moment you start to trust is the easiest moment to get hurt.”

  “Wow, aren’t you the life of the party. Here, we’ll practice. You be Desmond, and I’ll be you.” She crouched so that her nose barely poked above the counter.

  I flicked a bead at her. “Come on, I’m not that short.”

  She snickered and rose until she was closer to my five foot nothing. I could tell she was still bending her knees on the other side of the counter. “‘Hi Desmond,” she said in a higher voice than her usual alto, “my name is Adrienne Morales.”

  “He knows my name, you dork.”

  Undaunted, Kendall continued, “I’m an enchantress. No big deal, I’ve just been channeling arcane forces through your store. Want to have dinner tonight?’ See, is that so har—”

  KADUM! Magic tingled across my arms, raising goosebumps on my skin. I gasped. Kendall noticed and froze. “More?”

  I nodded, rubbing my arms.

  “But you just released some. This isn’t normal, right?”

  “No,” I said. “Usually it takes a few days for it to build.”

  “What does it mean that it’s gathering so fast?”

  “I don’t know. I think something’s comi—”

  My words died as the bells over the door jingled, and a masked gunman charged in.

  Chapter 2

  KENDALL SHRIEKED and dove behind my counter. I raised my hands, my arms still prickling. “We don’t keep much cash on hand. But you can—”

  I stopped speaking as I caught the feral gleam in the man’s eyes. A ski mask covered his face, but the skin I could see was drenched in sweat. His pupils swallowed his irises, roaming like he wasn’t quite sure what he was seeing. “Drink,” he moaned. “I need a drink.”