Veiled Enchantments

by Deborah Blake

  On the other hand, the last person who had asked her for help had died after she’d turned him down. She didn’t think she’d ever get over the guilt for refusing to listen to Peter’s father, even though her reasons had seemed justified at the time. And even after they’d decided their conflicting values meant they couldn’t be in a relationship, she and Magnus had stayed friends. He’d come without a moment’s hesitation when she’d needed help last spring.

  “So what do you want from me, exactly?” she asked. “For me to go try and talk to your dead?”

  Magnus took her hand and gazed into her eyes with a look that in a lesser man might have been pleading. “Yes, that. And also, maybe you could use your ability to talk to gods besides the one you worship to find out why Odin has turned his face from us. I might be able to find another Witch who can speak to ghosts, but there are very few with your other gift.” He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed it there for a moment before releasing it. “But more than that, I trust you, and that isn’t something I can say about many other people. Please, Donata, will you help us?”

  Crap. Crap on a plate with a side of fries. She never could say no to him, and besides, Donata Santori didn’t turn her back on friends. But man, she really, really, really didn’t want to get dragged into another mess right now.

  She gave it one more shot. “I don’t know if I can get away from work for that long, Magnus. I do have a job, and I missed some time recently dealing with Peter’s issues.” Like the death of his father and the reappearance of the mysterious long-lost sixth race. She repressed an involuntary shudder. “Plus, you know, the days I missed seven months back dealing with the Pentacle Pentimento that started this whole thing.”

  Magnus laughed so loud he scared Grimalkin off his lap. The cat stalked away to sit on the kitchen counter and glare at them both from the safety of his illicit perch.

  “Unless you’ve changed a great deal since the last I saw you, I’m guessing you never take a day off except for some unavoidable Paranormal crisis. When is the last time you took a vacation?”

  “Like going to some rural town in Maine to chase down ghosts would be a vacation,” Donata muttered, but she got up and went to the phone anyway. After a moment’s hesitation, she punched in the Chief’s cell number and prepared to get reamed out for bothering him after hours. On a Saturday, no less.

  “O’Malley,” her boss answered. “Please tell me that none of your friends has set another building on fire, Santori. I’m not in the mood to make up lies for the fire department tonight.” To anyone else, this probably would have sounded intimidating, but Donata was used to dealing with the Chief, and if anything, he sounded resigned rather than peeved.

  “Nope, not this time,” she said. “I’m sorry to bother you so late, sir, especially on the weekend.”

  “Ha,” he said. “Tonight is my wife’s bridge night and the house is filled with women drinking cocktails with silly names and talking about TV shows I never watch. I’m hiding out in my office catching up on paperwork. Which I hate almost as much as bridge. Feel free to interrupt me. A nice bizarre case might be a relief at this point.”

  “Sorry again, sir. No cases, bizarre or otherwise.” She took a deep breath. “I, uh, I know it is short notice, but I wondered if I could have a week off. Maybe two. Um, starting Monday morning.” She braced herself for the yelling. And possibly a few choice curse words.

  There was a brief but noticeable pause on the other end of the phone. “You want to take time off,” the Chief said carefully.

  “Yes, sir. I’m sorry about not putting in for it ahead of time, but an old friend showed up tonight who needs my help. Needs my particular talents, if you know what I mean, so he can’t really ask anyone else.”

  “Good,” the Chief said. “Take two weeks. Make it three if you need to.”

  What the hell? “I’m sorry, what?” Donata said. That was definitely not the reaction she’d been expecting. Oh, goddess, what if he had finally decided that all the weird things she’d dragged to the surface were just too weird after all? “Are you firing me, sir?”

  A sigh gusted down the line. “Did I say I was firing you, Santori?” She could hear him crunch down on one of the pencils he regularly chewed on since he’d quit smoking. “You have so much vacation time and sick time built up, HR is always on my ass about getting you to take some. Not to mention that you’ve been through a lot in the past year. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how tired you’ve been looking. To be honest, I was going to sit you down next week and order you to put in for a vacation sometime soon. You just saved me the trouble of doing it.”

  Great. “If you’re sure, Chief.”

  “When am I not sure about things, Santori? Now do me a favor, and stop arguing with me,” he said, and hung up on her.

  Huh. Well, that was one problem down.

  “So, I take it you can have the time off,” Magnus said with a grin. With his Shapechanger hearing, he’d undoubtedly caught every word of both sides of the conversation. “Great. I’ll help you pack.”

  “Not so fast. I need to call my friend Doc and see if she can feed the cat.”

  Ricky appeared in the space by Donata’s knees, making her jump, as usual.

  “I’m staying here, Missus,” he said. “Someone has to look after the place while you’re gone. I’ll feed the cat, no worries. Just stock the fridge before you leave. I can always swipe food from the neighbors, but they eat too much bad Thai takeout.”

  “If you’re certain you don’t mind,” Donata said.

  “I’m certain,” the little man said. “You go and have fun with Magnus. You could use a break.”

  Right, Donata thought. Because trying to wrangle a bunch of ghosts in a town full of antagonistic Shapeshifters while attempting to track down their missing god sounds like a day at the beach. What was really sad was that, after the year she’d had, it probably would be.

  Chapter Three

  Too early the next day, Donata slid into the passenger side of a battered gray pickup truck, clutching her travel mug of coffee as if it were a lifeline. She tucked her leather backpack at her feet, eyes half-closed against the rising sun. Magnus tossed her large duffel bag into the cab in the back effortlessly, despite the fact that she’d packed half of her closet into it, and took his place behind the wheel.

  “What happened to your van?” Donata asked with a yawn. The last time she’d ridden with him, he’d been driving a much more expensive van with a lot fewer miles and way less rust on it.

  Magnus grinned at her, annoyingly perky and awake. “Gimle is very rural and hard to find, even if you are looking for it, set back in the woods where few people will stumble over it accidentally. There are only two roads into town, and one of them can only be used if you have some kind of off-road vehicle or a suspension you really don’t care about. I kind of like my van, so I borrowed this from my dad to use while I’m staying there.”

  He patted the dashboard fondly. “It’s not pretty, but it will get us there in one piece.” The engine made a grinding noise as he put it into gear, and he added, “Probably.”

  Great. “How long a drive is it?” she asked as they headed toward the highway. She almost dropped her coffee into her lap as they hit a bump. “And what the hell happened to the suspension? Or didn’t it ever have one?”

  Magnus laughed, his even white teeth flashing in the morning light. “Still not a morning person, eh, ’Nata? I remember how grumpy you could be first thing.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Of course, I also remember being able to cheer you up. Not that I’d try that particular technique while I was driving.”

  “I wouldn’t try it at all if I were you,” Donata said, struggling not to remember naked skin and passionate kisses. She nudged her backpack with one booted toe. “I’ve got a gun in here and I’m not afraid to use it.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Y
ou brought a gun on your vacation?”

  “One, I’m a cop. I take my gun everywhere.” She’d never had to use it, but she wasn’t telling him that. “Two, you know perfectly well this isn’t really a vacation, and three, I’m heading into the wilds of Maine to a rural town full of frustrated Shapechangers. The gun just seemed like a good idea.”

  “Um,” he said. “I’m not saying it isn’t. Just try not to shoot any of my relatives. I’m kind of attached to them.”

  Donata stifled another yawn and took a big swig of coffee. “Speaking of relatives, how do they feel about you bringing me home? I know Ulfhednar aren’t big on outsiders.”

  “Halfrida, who is the Lawspeaker, and the village elders agreed that we’d run out of options,” Magnus said, not quite answering the question. “And my mother will love you. She’s very welcoming.”

  “Uh-huh. I take it that means the others won’t be.”

  Magnus maneuvered the truck smoothly around a large 18-wheeler, proving the old beater had more power than she would have expected. “Well, my father, Halvor, is on the council of elders, so he was in on the discussions about you coming. Mind you, he argued against it. But he’ll come around eventually.”

  “You have a sister, too, don’t you?” Donata had a vague memory of him saying they didn’t get along, which didn’t bode well for her reception there either, unless things had changed since he’d gone home.

  “Kari,” he said flatly. “She’s going to treat you like shit, I’m afraid. Don’t let her get under your skin, and don’t back down. She’s an Ulf, like my father, or at least she was, and it’s never a good idea to show weakness in front of them.”

  Oh, yeah, this is going to be a great trip. Maybe for my next vacation, I can climb to the top of a live volcano. And throw myself in.

  “What do you mean she used to be an Ulf? I didn’t know that was something you could retire from once you’d become one.” She had a moment’s hope that maybe after Magnus had completed the training and successfully mastered his inner beast, which was why he’d returned in the first place, he’d walk away again. Back to the city. Back to being her friend.

  He stared at the road. “It isn’t. Kari was a career soldier; not unusual for an Ulf. She’s ten years older than me, so she’d already enlisted when I was a teen. Did a few tours in the Middle East. On the last one, she lost most of her right leg to a roadside bomb. Still managed to carry three of her unit to safety before she passed out from blood loss. Her Ulfhednar healing abilities meant she didn’t die, but losing a limb meant that she no longer was counted among the Ulf of the Bear clan. An Ulf has to be able to go into berserker mode when threatened, and the body simply doesn’t respond that way anymore after being mutilated to that extent.”

  “That must be hard to adjust to,” Donata said. That kind of injury was difficult enough for anyone to deal with; she couldn’t imagine what it meant to someone whose culture valued strength and fighting ability above all else.

  “She’s done okay,” Magnus said, reluctant pride coloring his voice. “She and her husband have a couple of small kids now, and she teaches at the school in town. Wait until you meet my niece and nephew. They’re complete hellions.” He said that like it was a good thing.

  Donata suddenly had a bad feeling. “Magnus? Where am I going to be staying during this visit? Is there a bed-and-breakfast or something?” Surreptitiously, she crossed her fingers on her right hand, down where he couldn’t see them. There was a moment of silence. “Magnus?”

  He gave her a look that seemed caught between guilt and amusement. As usual, the amusement won. “No bed-and-breakfast, ’Nata. The town is way too small for that and not designed to welcome visitors. We’re staying at my family’s compound, of course. Don’t worry, I have a small wing to myself, so you ought to be able to have some privacy.”

  She sighed, sinking down in her seat. “Great. So while you’re out training all day and half the night, I’ll be stuck in a house with adults who hate me, and two children you described as hellions. Remind me to get to the bottom of this mystery fast, so I can go home to my cat.”

  Magnus snorted. “I’m sure you’ll win them over with your charm soon enough,” he said.

  Donata snorted back. There were plenty of things she was known for, but charm definitely wasn’t one of them.

  “When you call it a compound, what do you mean?” she asked, curious. Despite the less-than-encouraging circumstances, she was intrigued by the opportunity to get a glimpse of Ulfhednar society, something few people ever got. “I thought you lived in a small town.”

  Magnus honked loudly and made a rude gesture in the direction of someone who had cut him off in a snazzy sports car, then took a deep breath to get himself under control before he answered her question.

  “Gimle is a small town—population five hundred and forty-seven, not counting the occasional wandering moose. Everyone there knows everyone else, and half of them are related one way or the other, although there are a few Humans, mostly Maine natives who are rough and antisocial enough that they are more comfortable with us than the outside world, and ignore anything odd they can’t explain. Occasionally one of us will even marry a Human, but the races can’t interbreed and children are important to the Ulfhednar, so it doesn’t happen very often.”

  Donata winced at the thought of children. Ever since her former boyfriend Anton had sent her those herb-induced dreams, she’d been thinking about babies more and more. She was at the age when Witch women usually started a family, but she was hardly in any position to do so. Hell, she wasn’t even sure she liked children, other than her beloved niece Sophia Gaia. She shook her head to clear it and figured that maybe Magnus’s “hellions” would cure her.

  “So do most of your clan live in town?” she asked, as much to distract herself as to continue the conversation.

  Magnus shrugged. “About half, maybe? The rest of us live right outside of town in family compounds, which is really just a fancy way of saying ‘big houses with a bunch of outbuildings.’ We’re a matrilineal society, so the house stays with the woman. When my parents got married, my father moved in with my mother and her parents. They’re gone now, my grandparents, but my sister and her husband and kids live there. I’ll have rooms there until I marry.” He gave her a sideways glance. “Of course, that isn’t likely to happen soon.”

  An oncoming car had to swerve as the truck edged into the opposite lane, and the sound of its horn trailed off behind them.

  “If you don’t start paying attention to the road instead of flirting with me, it’s not likely to happen at all,” she said.

  Magnus just laughed.

  It seemed to Donata that the journey was going to go on forever as they went deeper and deeper into rural Maine, the roads getting narrower and the towns farther and farther apart. The closer they got to his home, the less Magnus talked, as though he had left his more civilized persona behind with the city. She could almost see the shadow of his Shapechanger heritage growing darker in his eyes in the same way that the towering trees threw increasingly dense shadows over the bumpy roads as they crowded in closer to the sides of the truck.

  Finally they drove through the nearly deserted streets of a tiny hamlet. A woman swept the walk in front of a general store, and an elderly man walked a large dog past a small diner. The main street lasted only about two blocks and looked much like main streets everywhere except for the noticeable absences of both a town hall and a church.

  “Gimle,” Magnus said. “It means ‘New Heaven.’”

  “Seriously?” Donata looked out her window at the neat but unexciting buildings. “Huh.”

  “It all depends on what you compare it to, I guess,” Magnus replied. “My people mostly came here from Europe after the Church had forced us into hiding for centuries along with all the other Paranormal races. It was a place where the Ulfhednar could live together and practice their ow
n beliefs, so I suppose it was heaven, in contrast.”

  “I see what you mean,” she said. Then held on to her seat as they made a sharp left onto a dirt lane she hadn’t even seen. A few minutes later, they pulled up in front of a building that was a cross between a log cabin and a ski lodge, consisting of a large one-story main section with a number of smaller wings coming off in random directions, as if it had been added onto higgledy-piggledy over the years as the family had expanded and they’d needed more space. It was both imposing and surprisingly charming at the same time.

  “Home, sweet home,” Magnus said, stopping the truck and jumping out to grab her duffel bag. He took her backpack from her and slung one arm around her shoulders as they walked toward the front door. “Brace yourself, babe. You’re about to meet the Torvalds.”

  As if on cue, the front door opened and a middle-aged woman with graying blond hair worn in a braid across her head and a flour-dusted apron tied around her middle greeted them with a smile that showed off dimples that matched her son’s. She was almost as tall as him and only just beginning to turn to plumpness. Bright blue eyes twinkled at them both equally.

  “You must have gotten an early start,” she said. “I didn’t expect you until later. Come in, come in.” She hugged Magnus briefly as he passed through the doorway, then turned to her guest.

  “You must be Donata,” she said. “I’ve heard a little bit about you from Magnus, and I’m so looking forward to getting to know you better. I’m Astrid, his mother, in case you haven’t guessed.”

  Donata followed Astrid into a large central foyer with polished wood floors that gleamed in the light streaming through the front windows. The open space was mostly empty, although there were huge candle sconces on either side of the door and spaced around on the oak walls, and a niche in one corner that held an altar to Odin. From where she stood, Donata could see straight ahead into the main living space, which was filled with comfortable couches, chairs, and occasional tables in subtle combinations of wood and blue and brown fabrics with a few touches of cream. All of the furniture was slightly oversized and looked as though it had been made by hand with care. A massive fireplace big enough to roast an ox in dominated the far end of the room, and windows on either side of it looked out on trees covered with fading leaves.