by A C Spahn
Chapter 13
THEY LEFT ME in a holding cell in the bowels of their compound. I guessed we were still near San Francisco, because the drive from the farm hadn’t been long, but I’d been blindfolded on the way and had only seen windowless, concrete hallways on the march from the interrogation room. The cell was stark, without a stick of furniture or a grain of food. Probably to stop me from having anything to enchant. Not that it would have mattered. With so many Voids around, there wasn’t enough magic to cast an air freshening charm.
I sat with my back to the wall, knees against my chest, wondering what would happen to me. They wouldn’t just execute me without some sort of trial, would they? If the Union did things like that, surely the normals’ police would have stopped them by now. Unless the Voids had the police and government so far in their pocket, there was no thought of fighting back. I knew that some towns under Void control were little better than mob-run cities, with important normals kept in power with Void money, paid to turn a blind eye whenever the Voids did something not entirely legal. The same went for many places under enchanter cult control.
Even if the normals’ police would stand up for me, I had no one to report me missing. My few good friends were paranormals, and no paranormal would risk antagonizing the Union. Kendall would have the guts, but she was a captive here too. Desmond would have done it, if he was a normal like I thought. But for all I knew, he was in another cell, arrested for fraternizing with the enemy.
It seemed like hours before the steel door clicked, then opened. I sat up straighter, not wanting to appear defeated and guilty to the guards. To my surprise, it wasn’t a brutish Hunter, but Desmond who stepped inside. He closed the door behind himself and gave me a wan smile. “Hey.”
I pushed myself up. “What’s happening, Desmond? Where’s Kendall? What are they going to do with us?”
“With Kendall, nothing. Maribel gave her a hard time about being friends with you, and Kendall gave it right back. They’ll bully her a little more, then let her go.”
“And me?”
He sighed. “I don’t know yet.”
“Are you in trouble because of me?”
“Maybe a little. Nothing serious. Nothing like ...” He bit his lip and flushed.
“Nothing like the trouble I’m in,” I finished.
“I’ve told them you didn’t do it. Took the argument right to the Union Legionnaire. He said he needs time to weigh the case before making a decision.”
“Great. Let me talk to him.”
“I can’t.”
“How can he weigh my case if he hasn’t even seen me?”
“They’re Union Hunters, Adrienne. They don’t have to make sense.”
“Why didn’t you tell me Maribel was a shifter? She’s got a vendetta against me because of what happened to her.”
“I was hoping we wouldn’t see her again. I didn’t think you needed to know.”
“You know her.”
“Yes.”
“As in know her, or ...?”
“Do we really need to talk about this?”
I rapped on the concrete walls trapping me. “It seems I’ve got time to spare.”
He sighed and avoided my eyes. “Maribel was the Hunter who recruited me. I fell for her tough-girl persona. We went out a few times, but I realized I’d made a mistake. She’s single-minded. No room for a real relationship.”
“She acted quite familiar with you, for a few-dates ex.” My voice sounded colder than I intended. A blush rose in my cheeks.
Desmond grimaced. “It’s not like that. We see each other at Union gatherings. She’s high ranking in the Hunters. Sometimes she checks on the rest of us in the area.”
“She’s your boss.”
“In a manner of speaking. Why do you think I won’t date employees?”
“And you knew she was a shifter, but didn’t think it was worth telling me. You chose Union loyalty over—”
“No. Please, Adrienne, I know you have every right to be angry right now, but don’t make this about whose side I’m on. I didn’t ask to become a Void, any more than you asked to become an enchantress. Fate stuck me in the Union. I don’t have to like it, or the other people stuck there with me. But to keep the peace, I have to work with them. They’d never leave me alone otherwise.”
Frustrated, I crossed my arms. The movement tugged on the wound in my shoulder, and I let out a hiss of pain.
Instantly Desmond was by my side. “Let me see that.”
“It’s fine.”
“Dammit, Adrienne, it’s bled all the way down your shirt!” He took my arm and examined my bloodied clothes. “Lie down. I’ll get some antibiotics.”
“Really, Desmond, I’m fine.”
“The hell you are. If that gets infected, it could kill you. Lie down, and I’ll patch you up.”
“No.” I tried to pull away. “Please, Desmond, don’t—”
My sleeve snagged in his fingers, and my already-ripped shirt tore in half. The sleeve came away in Desmond’s hand, leaving me with a one-shoulder top that exposed my upper chest. I grabbed the jagged fabric and covered myself, but the damage was done. He’d seen my skin.
And the single black line doubling back and forth, weaving a complex circle around my heart.
Desmond stared at me. “You’re—”
“Don’t say it.”
“The line ... it’s so thick. That circle is huge.”
My shoulders felt heavy, like each word stacked a new weight on them. “That’s because there’s a huge amount of magic tied up in that enchantment.”
“What does it do?”
“Nothing.”
He frowned. “How is that—”
“It doesn’t do anything. All it does is trap the magic there, storing it for later use. That way the magic doesn’t get channeled any particular way, so it won’t have any predispositions.”
Desmond’s eyes were sharp as diamonds. “So it can be used later.”
I nodded, silent.
“Who did this to you?”
I didn’t trust the anger in his voice. “Don’t think of going after them. They’re too strong for you.”
“Who was it, Adrienne?”
“They’re outside your jurisdiction, too.”
“It was your cult, wasn’t it? The people who raised you. You said they sometimes used people to store excess magic. You weren’t just a member, you were one of their victims.” His hands clenched into fists, over and over.
I put a hand on his shoulder. “Please, Desmond. Don’t think of trying to find them.”
“They abused you. And they’re probably still doing this to other people.”
“Their leader is the most powerful magic user I’ve ever seen. You may be a Void, but even you aren’t a match for him.”
“This leader. He’s the one who enchanted you?”
Memories flooded up, streaming out of the locked recesses of my mind. Chanting figures circling an altar. Whispers of honor and service. Air thickened to tar with magic. Pain. So much pain.
The memories clamored against my lips, pounding my insides as if magic propelled them. They wanted, needed to be freed, and despite years of keeping silent, I found words begin to flow out of me. “It wasn’t just Geralt who enchanted me. It was the entire cult. All of them, gathering and funneling magic into me, in one giant enchantment.”
Desmond shifted his weight, as if preparing for a fight. “Is that why you’ve been hiding what you are? To keep those people from finding you? Why not just use up the magic, channel it somewhere else?”
“It’s too much for one person to channel safely.”
“Can’t you do it a little at a time?”
“No. It’s a single enchantment, so it’s all or nothing.”
Desmond frowned. “That’s not it, though. You’re keeping something from me. What is it?”
My hand went to the tattoo, tracing its line from memory. “They bound it to my own magic,” I said softly. “Linked i
t to my talent. It was the only part of me with enough metaphysical energy to contain that much magic. Having it channeled into me was ... the most pain I’ve ever felt, can ever imagine feeling. Taking it out again would be fatal.”
He blanched. “It would kill you?”
My tracing finger reached the end of the tattoo line. “That’s why I can’t use it. Not unless I’m willing to die in the process. And that’s why I can’t let the cult ever find me.”
Desmond shook his head. “How old were you?”
“When I was enchanted, fourteen. I was ten when we joined the cult.”
“We?”
Almost all the skeletons were cleaned out, the closet nearly empty. What was one more at this point? “My parents were the ones who joined. They were enchanters. We had been on our own for a long time, so when the cult invited us in, it was like having a true family for the first time. Geralt was a teacher, a guide. Everyone in the cult calls him Mentor. He had the knowledge, the experience, the magical strength to help us master our own powers. He even had a small peacekeeping force. He said they were to keep us safe from Voids and other paranormals, but I believe now that they also were the ones keeping the paranormal communities in line, intimidating the normals’ leaders into giving Geralt free reign. My family fell for it, all of it. My parents thought we’d found paradise. They said we owed everything to the Mentor.”
I swallowed. “When my strong affinity for magic was discovered, they were so proud. Proud to have a daughter who could channel so much magic. Proud to hand me over to Geralt. Proud to make that ‘sacrifice.’” The last word sparked on my tongue and left a burn. My eyes brimmed with tears.
Wordlessly, Desmond pulled me into a hug. My injured shoulder throbbed, but I didn’t mind. I let him hold me, resting against his strength. Mine was buried somewhere, and I didn’t have the energy to dig it up.
After several minutes, he asked, “What do they want to do with it? The magic they trapped in you.”
“I don’t know.”
“You can tell me.”
“I really don’t know.” I leaned back and wiped my eyes. “Geralt kept speaking about grand plans and heroism, but he never said what they were storing the magic for. Just that he would tell them when it was time to tap it.”
“How did you escape?”
“I looked small and helpless until they let their guard down. They had someone use up the magic in my room each day, to keep it from me, but they couldn’t get all of it. I took in every scrap I could and placed small enchantments on things in my room. Table legs, floorboards, specks on the walls. They would search for enchantments every day, so each morning I would draw all those magics back in and hold them until the search was over. Each time I did, I reshaped them a little more into what I wanted, preparing them. Finally there was a day with more magic in the air than usual. I drew in all my enchantments, plus some extra magic, channeled it all, and turned myself invisible. I picked the lock and walked out.”
Desmond whistled. “I thought invisibility was impossible.”
“It’s very, very hard. It took over a year of preparation before I had enough stored magic, and had inclined it in the right way to give me what I wanted. Even then the charm wore off just a few miles down the road. I found a bus station, bummed a ticket, and took the first one out. Been running ever since.”
Desmond shook his head. “It’s enough to make me want to join the Hunters.”
“I thought you were already with them, part-time.”
“Not all Voids are Hunters. Reserve is a rank as well as a descriptive term. The lowest rank, for those of us who won’t fully commit to the Union.” His eyes lingered on my tattoo, his face a thundercloud.
I cleared my throat. “My eyes are up here, Reserve Desoto.”
With a start, Desmond tore his gaze away from my chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything.”
“It’s okay. I’m not your employee, after all.” I winked.
He smiled faintly, though the worry didn’t completely leave his expression. “Let me take care of your shoulder.”
He gently helped me lie down, then disappeared for a few minutes, returning with a first aid kit. I let him pull the ruins of my shirt away from my shoulder, exposing part of the tattoo around my heart. His eyes avoided the tattoo as he studied the claw wound. “It’s not too deep.”
“I told you so.”
“But I’m still going to treat it.” He pulled out an antiseptic spray and gave me a grave look. “This might hurt.”
“I’ll be fine. Pain’s an old friend of mine.”
He spritzed the antiseptic on the claw mark, and while it stung, it was nowhere near a true pain. While he cleaned the wound, I asked, “So you’re in the Void Union, but you never got promoted to Hunter. You said before that you didn’t have a choice about joining. How did they get you?”
Desmond’s lips thinned. “The inner workings of the Union aren’t exactly something we’re supposed to share.”
“Why, because if paranormals knew how unfair they were, they wouldn’t let the Voids run everything?” A sharp pain jabbed in my shoulder. “Ow! What did you do?”
“Sorry!” His brow furrowed as he studied the cut. “I think there’s something stuck in there.”
“Get it out.”
“Working on it.” He pulled a pair of tweezers from his first aid kit. “This might ...”
“Desmond, I’m used to the fundamental forces of the spiritual universe trying to use me as a lightning rod. I can take it. Just keep talking to me.”
With an apologetic look, he began rooting around in the cut, probing for whatever had gotten lodged in my flesh. I gritted my teeth. “So you can’t tell me about the Union, or you’d have to kill me.”
“Not exactly. Even as a member, there are lots of things I don’t know. The Union is very secretive about its influence. I can tell you my own story, but that’s about it.”
“Does it involve a black van abducting you and a man in a suit and sunglasses telling you the world as you know it is a lie?”
He snickered. “Not quite. It was a white van.”
His probing sent a jab of pain through my wound, and I flinched. “So how did they find you?”
“My best guess is I became a Void when I was six or seven,” Desmond said, his hands steady with woodworker’s grace. “We’re like enchanters in that our abilities can form at any age. But around first grade was the first incident I can remember. A musician came to our school to demonstrate different instruments. While she was playing her violin, everyone around me sat stone still, as if they had never heard anything so beautiful. But I was bored. I think she was born with a minor enchantment, maybe so minor she didn’t even know it herself, that infused her music with magic. It captivated everyone. Everyone except me.”
“Maybe you just have no appreciation for art.”
He grinned. “Said the girl who thinks having a glue gun makes her Rembrandt.”
“Please. I’m more of an Obregón.” The tweezers poked something foreign in my flesh. I hissed. “That’s it, you found it. Get it out, please.”
“One second.” His eyes squinted in the cute way he had when concentrating. His tongue poked slightly out one side of his mouth. I felt him rooting around, struggling to capture the thing in my injury.
“Distraction, please,” I said through gritted teeth. “You didn’t finish your story.”
“Sorry.” Desmond winced and continued working. “Anyway, when I was in college a vampiress tried to seduce me at a party.”
“Was she an employee?”
“You’re not letting that go, are you?”
“Nope.”
“No, we didn’t work together in any fashion. I’d never even seen her before, though I think she attended the same school. Either way, when she went to feed, it didn’t work. She freaked and ran away. The next day Maribel was on my doorstep, calling herself a Void Union Hunter, telling me my new rights and responsibilities.”
&
nbsp; “Was there a welcome packet?”
“There was, actually. Very garish, all bright reds and yellows. It could have used your touch.”
With a flourish, he pulled the tweezers from my shoulder. Relief tingled my skin, like a release of pressure. “What was it?”
He held the tiny fragment up to the light. “Looks like a chip of bear claw.”
“That was in me?”
“I thought you said you were used to this sort of thing.”
“Pain, yes. Not foreign matter left in my muscle tissue.”
“It didn’t go deep enough to hit muscle.”
“That helps a lot, thanks.” I curbed my sarcasm and sat up. The chip of claw looked like a sewing needle, but shorter and stubbier. Beneath the blood, it was a filmy grey color. I’d never seen anything like it. “Can I have that?”
His eyes clouded. “Why?”
“Not for magic. It just looks interesting.”
“You want to use it in a craft project? Are you serious?”
“Why not? You’re not going to use it.”
He made a face. “Unfortunately, the Union is going to want this.”
“There’s nothing they can do with it.”
“No, but Maribel will want to keep it, mostly so you can’t have it.”
I huffed. “Fine.”
Desmond wrapped the claw fragment in some clean gauze, then cleansed and bandaged my shoulder. All the while my enchantment tattoo loomed beneath his hands, like a barrier between us.
He finished and I tied off the fragments of my shirt, forming a knotted one-shoulder top that covered the tattoo. There was no helping the blood.
“I’ll bring you something to eat,” Desmond said. “Hopefully they won’t hold you for much—”
The cell door opened. I flinched, expecting Maribel, but instead a muscular guard with a shaved head and thick ear gauges stepped inside. “Get out, Desoto,” he growled at Desmond.
Desmond stood and helped me to my feet. “I’m just trying to help, Axel. What is it?”
“We have more questions for her.”
“She’s hurt. At least give her a chance to recover.”
