Enchant (The Enchanted Book 1)

by Micalea Smeltzer

  Gray eyes sighed. “I’ll explain later. We need to get out of here before more show up. There was an Iniquitous at the party you were at,” he added as an afterthought.

  “What?” I asked shocked, stopping in my tracks as my thoughts trickled back to Ian and Dani covered in blood.

  “Car. Now.”

  He climbed in on the driver’s side. I huffed in response.

  “I’ll drive,” I seethed, disgusted by the sight of him behind the wheel of my father’s beloved truck.

  And he still hasn’t told me where my dad is.

  Gray eyes smirked. “Do you know where we’re going?”

  “No, but you can give me directions.”

  “I don’t think so. Give me the keys and get in the car.” He held out his hands smiling like the cat that ate the canary because he knew I’d give in.

  I slammed the keys into his outstretched hand none too happily and climbed in. I knew there was no point in arguing with him and I really wanted to leave before any more of those things showed up. Or maybe something worse. I shuddered at the thought.

  He stuck the key in the truck’s ignition and for the first time in all its existence, it didn’t start. Gray eyes cursed. He put his hand against the dashboard. A light spewed from his hands in a rainbow of colors and the truck started.

  Stunned, I looked at him.

  He shrugged. “Enchanter, remember?”

  He backed out of the driveway and drove out of the neighborhood.

  “Will this thing not go any faster?” he asked, incredulous.

  “It’s an old truck. What do you expect?”

  “We’ll have to get rid of it. We need something fast. Preferably something that goes over forty miles an hour.”

  “Don’t diss the truck,” I snapped.

  Gray Eyes shook his head.

  “What’s your name?” I asked. “You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

  “Theodore,” he said.

  Theodore. The name suited him.

  “What did you mean when you said there was an Iniq—whatever at the party?” I asked. “What are they? You said you were my protector, what does that mean?”

  Theodore sighed. “Let’s try this one question at a time. I’m your protector. My job is to protect you—like the word protector implies,” he explained like I was dense, which I guess I was, but this was all so overwhelming. “From birth, the protector is taught how to fight, how to kill, and how to do the most powerful magic, magic other enchanters never even know about.” He glanced at me to see if I was following. “We—you and I and all the other ‘good’ witches and sorcerers—are called The Enchanted or just enchanters overall. The bad ones are The Iniquitous. The Iniquitous spend their entire lives trying to get to The Chosen Ones, like you.”

  “And what do they do to The Chosen Ones?” I gulped.

  “They kill them. They killed your mother,” he whispered.

  “My mother?” I asked.

  Theodore looked at me with the closest thing to pity. “I’m afraid so. She died to make sure they never learned about you.”

  “So, you’re saying she was an enchanter? A chosen one? What about my dad? He’s as normal as they come.”

  “He’s not your dad,” he stated matter of fact.

  “What?” I sputtered. “Of course he is.”

  “No, he’s not,” said Theodore with a shake of his head. “Steven is only a human. Your real dad is—” he stopped himself.

  “My real dad is what?” I prompted, my voice tight.

  His grip on the steering wheel tightened. “He’s part of the Iniquitous.”

  I eyed him, and he squirmed.

  “The leader, actually.”

  I laughed. “I didn’t know my mom but I’m sure there’s no way she’d be with some evil dude.”

  “Sometimes people do the things you least expect them to,” Theodore said as if speaking from experience. “Most people that are evil don’t start out that way.”

  “But what about my dad? Or um …”

  “Steven?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I whispered, my tone worried.

  He sighed heavily, shoving one hand roughly through his hair. “Steven Pryce was a human charged with protecting you to the death if that’s what it would take.”

  My whole world crumbled around me more and more the longer he spoke. I swallowed thickly but I refused to cry in front of this arrogant jerk.

  “What about … You said there was an Iniquitous at the party?” I asked to change the subject.

  He rubbed his face. I noticed he had dark scruff covering his cheeks. “Yeah, I was trailing you. I need to get you to a safe house now that you’re eighteen and coming into your powers. I never expected there to be so many complications. I thought you were well guarded between Steven and the wards,” he muttered almost to himself. “But it appears that is not so. Which is very, very, odd,” he mused. “Anyway, at the party, there was an Iniquitous. It followed your friend, I guess hoping to get information, and killed the boy.”

  “Ian?”

  He shrugged. “I guess that’s his name.”

  “What happened to the Iniquitous?”

  “I killed him,” Theodore stated simply like it was the most normal thing in the world to say.

  “You killed him?”

  “Do you like to repeat everything I say? Yes, I killed him. I had to. He could’ve hurt you.”

  “This is crazy. Insane.” I shook my head. “I must be dreaming.” I smacked my cheek.

  “Don’t do that.” Gray eyes grabbed my hand before I could hit myself again. He placed my hand in my lap and let go. “You’re not dreaming. This is real. You’re an enchanter and the Iniquitous want you dead. My job is to make sure they don’t succeed.”

  “How can I be an enchanter? I’ve never done any magic,” I countered with a huff.

  He sighed—I noticed he did that a lot—and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Did you miss the part where I said you come into your powers at eighteen? Enchanters don’t begin to receive any magic until they’re eighteen and don’t come into their full powers until they’re twenty. Since I’m a protector, I’m lucky because I’m born with powers and they only grow more powerful the older I get.”

  I swallowed thickly at his words. In two weeks I’d be eighteen and I guess now I’d go all magicky when that happened.

  “How old are you?” I asked him.

  “Twenty-two,” he replied. I watched him glance in the rear-view mirror. “We need to get rid of the truck. They probably have a tracker on it. Plus, we need something faster. A lot faster,” he muttered. He turned to the right and headed toward the city. He found a dealership and turned into the darkened lot.

  “I think they’re closed,” I mumbled and crossed my arms over my chest.

  Theodore looked at me like I was dense again. “That’s kind of the point.”

  “You’re stealing a car?” I implored.

  “No, of course not,” he said, and I relaxed. “I’m merely borrowing it—they might not get it back but …,” he trailed off. “Now, stay here for a minute. I need to disable the security cameras and ditch the license plates.” He slipped out of the car like a shadow. His movements reminded me of ninjas you saw in movies. Quick, precise, and almost inhuman. I watched him maneuver around the parking lot in a way that kept him from the sights of the cameras. Then he jumped at the building and scaled the wall with his bare hands. What was he? Spiderman?

  After disabling the cameras, he jumped down and landed on his feet like a cat. He grinned when he caught me staring, jaw dropped. He came back to the truck and took off the license plates. I put my hand on the knob to get out and he motioned for me to stay. I almost didn’t listen but when I thought about that thing that attacked us in my house I decided to stay put.

  I watched his dark form disappear into the shadows. For a moment, I thought to be afraid, but it didn’t last long. A set of headlights flashed on and a car flew through the parking lot a
nd stopped in front of the truck. The black paint blended in with the night. It was practically invisible except for the headlights.

  “Get in,” Theodore urged, rolling down the window.

  I grabbed my black duffel bag and the glowing box and shuffled into the low-seated sports car. I hardly had the door closed before Theodore was racing out of the parking lot.

  I took in the sleek interior. I felt like I was sitting in a plane. The red leather felt like butter. I leaned over to see the emblem on the steering wheel.

  “A Porsche? Really, Theo, was that necessary?” I asked.

  “First this is a Porsche Cayman R. Second, yes it was necessary. We needed a fast car. Thirdly, never ever call me Theo.”

  “I’ll call you whatever I want,” I snapped.

  He turned to me. “Ditto, doll face.”

  “This is very conspicuous,” I said, choosing to ignore the doll face comment.

  Theodore sighed. “I don’t care. I needed something fast and this baby can go from zero to sixty in four seconds and has a maximum speed of—”

  “I don’t care, Theo.” I sat back in the seat.

  He grinned cockily. “Okay, doll face.”

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “How long am I stuck in this car with you?” I asked.

  He grinned even bigger. “A long time. You better buckle up.” One hand on the steering wheel, he reached across with the other to pull the seatbelt across me and snap it into place. My heartbeat skyrocketed. He chuckled like he noticed and went back to looking at the road.

  I crossed my arms over my chest and willed this whole thing to be a nightmare.

  Chapter 4

  WHEN I WOKE UP, I knew this was not simply a nightmare. I stretched my sore limbs and twisted my neck, which was stiff from sleeping in the car.

  Twenty-four hours ago, my life had been normal. Now I didn’t know what it was. All of this … I wanted to believe it was made up—too far-fetched—but I couldn’t ignore the truth. Ian was dead, my dad was gone, and that grindor or whatever it was had definitely been in my house.

  There was also no denying Theo. He was very much real.

  “Mornin’, doll face,” he said with a fake Southern accent.

  I looked around and saw the road all around us.

  “Have you slept?” I asked.

  He put a hand to his chest and feigned surprise. “Are you concerned for my health? I’m touched.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “I don’t want to get killed because you fall asleep at the wheel.” I crossed my arms over my chest and adjusted my position in the seat.

  “I’m fine,” he assured me. “This stuff really works.” He picked up a bottle of Five Hour Energy.

  “How many of these have you had?” I gasped, taking it from him.

  “Uh … four,” he counted and then giggled. Yeah, that’s right, giggled like a little girl. “And I feel great.”

  “Theo,” I shrieked in irritation. “Maybe I should drive?” I suggested.

  “No way.” He massaged the steering wheel. “This baby is all mine. Besides—” he shrugged but the motion was jerky “—you don’t know where we’re going.”

  “Don’t remind me,” I muttered. “I’m in a car, with a boy I don’t really know going who knows where.”

  “I know where,” he chortled.

  “That’s my point,” I muttered, looking out the window.

  “Ah, doll face, don’t be like that,” he pleaded with a fake pout, his reflection in the window overly exaggerated.

  I whipped toward him. “Don’t call me doll face,” I snapped, finally giving into the itch I hadn’t wanted to scratch.

  He smirked like he’d won some silent competition. “Don’t call me Theo. My name’s Theodore.”

  “Not gonna happen,” I ground out, just to irritate him.

  “Back at you, doll face.” He winked, his lips quirking at the corners.

  It was going to be a long drive.

  “What is that?” asked Theo, staring at the bag in my hands.

  “Cheetos.” I swished the bag in front of his nose.

  We had stopped to get gas and food before getting back on the road promptly. Apparently, even enchanters had to eat.

  “Give me some.” He stuck his hand in the bag.

  “Hey,” I scolded and snatched it back. “These are mine.”

  “Haven’t you ever heard of sharing?” he asked and stuck a handful of Cheetos in his mouth.

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “I don’t want to share with you.”

  “Doll face, I’m hurt.”

  “How on Earth did you come up with the nickname doll face?” I asked.

  He smirked. “You kinda look like a doll.”

  My mouth dropped open. “I’m offended.”

  “A pretty doll,” he added with a shrug, shoving his hand in my bag of Cheetos again. I rolled my eyes, and he grinned like the Cheshire cat.

  I might not have known Theo, but I knew enough that he was the kind of person I avoided at all costs.

  A sarcastic asshole. A cocky jerk.

  Munching on a Cheeto, I asked, “So, this safe house, what is it exactly? A shack?”

  He shook his head. “No, it’s actually a manor. It’s owned by one of the oldest enchanter families and is a safe haven for many enchanters. It’s large enough to house nearly a hundred of us if need be.”

  I was actually surprised he answered me, and seriously at that. “How many are there now?”

  “Enough.”

  I frowned. I wasn’t sure what exactly he meant by that.

  Noticing my expression, he sighed and replied, “The more people that are around the more on guard I have to be. Even though I’ve known a lot of them for nearly my whole life, you can’t be too trusting.” He shrugged. “Your life is the most important thing and that means I have to stay alert.” Grabbing another Cheeto from the bag, he spun it between his fingers. “Honestly, the only person I do trust completely is my sister.”

  “A sister, huh?”

  He chuckled. “She’s a pain in my ass, but she’s family.”

  He popped the Cheeto in his mouth and reached for more.

  I snatched the bag back quickly.

  “Don’t touch my Cheetos. You’ve already eaten like half the bag.”

  “Oh, please,” he snorted and rolled his eyes.

  “So, where is this safe house manor place?” I rambled. “Am I privy to this information yet?”

  He sighed loudly and dramatically like I had no right to ask these questions. “It’s in Washington State, just outside of Seattle.”

  “How do you keep this place hidden?”

  He gave me a look. “Magic,” he answered.

  “Oh,” I mumbled. “Of course. Where are we now? Washington is pretty far from Arkansas.”

  “We’re currently in Kansas but we’re almost to Nebraska. I want to get as far away from the Iniquitous as possible before we stop for a break. These things aren’t going to keep me going for much longer.” Theo shook an empty bottle of Five Hour Energy.

  Not wanting to talk about the evil beings chasing me, I asked, “What’s with the tattoos?”

  He had some kind of script along the inside of his right arm, and whenever he moved his arm a bit of a filigree tattoo peeked out along the top of his arm. On his other arm, there were a cluster of blue stars and some more script on the inside. I was sure there were plenty more that I could not see.

  I expected him to give me a flippant answer but, instead, he shrugged and said, “I don’t know. I just … wanted to. In this world, there’s not a lot we have that’s for ourselves. I did this for me.”

  “What does that one mean?” I asked, pointing to the script on his arm.

  “It’s Latin for, ‘while there is life, there is hope’,” he answered. “This one—” he pointed to the words on the inside of his arm “—is Latin for ‘thus you shall go to the stars’.”

  “That explains the stars.” I pointed to the op
en and closed cluster of blue stars. “Anymore I should know about?” I asked.

  He laughed. “I have one across my shoulders that’s Latin for ‘I am not led; I lead’, a cross on my chest, and one along on my side that’s Latin for ‘I struggle and emerge’.”

  “What’s with all the Latin?” I asked, truly curious.

  He shrugged. “I liked that it was a dead language but strangely beautiful and unique. I didn’t want it to be something that people could read easily. Like I said, there’s not much we get for ourselves, and I wanted this to be entirely mine.”

  “But you told me what they mean?” I hedged.

  He sighed and squirmed in his seat. “You’re the one I’m destined to protect. Eventually, we’ll know all there is to know about one another, so why hide it?”

  “But you were slow to tell me where we were going?” I countered.

  “That’s different; I did it for your protection. In case we got caught I didn’t want you knowing where we were headed and unwittingly giving up information you didn’t understand could harm a lot of people. I think we’re a safe distance away now that chances of getting caught are slim, so that’s why I told you.”

  “So, am I going to learn magic?” I asked, changing the subject.

  He snorted. “Of course.”

  “What kind of stuff will I learn?”

  “All kinds of things.” He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “Spells to heal, block, kill, grow things; you name it and there’s probably a spell for it—there’s even one to make your bed.”

  I laughed. “That sounds great. I hate making my bed.”

  “Me too,” he agreed with a chuckle.

  “Are there other places like the safe … manor? Or is it the only one?”

  He shook his head. “There are many all over the world. The one in Seattle is one of the largest—which is a worry for me since the more space and people around the more I have to be concerned about someone hurting you, but I did grow up there so at least I know the place like the back of my hand,” he rambled not even taking a breath. “It also has some powerful enchanters staying there—not chosen like you—but powerful. And you could learn a thing or two from them. You’re going to be a force to be reckoned with.” He breathed out, shaking his head in disbelief. “I have a feeling you’re going to be unstoppable.”