Veiled Enchantments

by Deborah Blake

  “Actually, our sparring was part of what motivated me to finally come home and finish the training,” Magnus said, a touch grimly. “The last time things went badly wrong and I lost control of my inner berserker. I could have really hurt her. I decided I needed to complete the Ulf training so it never happened again.”

  Donata put one arm around him and gave him a quick hug. She remembered that incident as if it were yesterday. She’d thought for a few minutes that he might actually kill her, which she knew would have destroyed him. They’d been lucky she’d figured out in time how to stop him.

  “It wasn’t his fault,” she explained to Jonah. “We’d always sparred by ourselves before, and that time we not only had a couple of people watching, but one of them was another alpha male and a rival. Plus we’d been fighting and on the run from some pretty nasty folks, so we should have realized how close to the surface his Ulf nature would be.”

  Jonah nodded. “Sounds like a recipe for disaster, all right. But at least it got him home where he belongs, so that’s something.”

  Yeah. It was part of why she had to keep her distance from now on, both emotionally and physically. When this was all over, she would be going back to the city, and Magnus . . . Magnus was back home, where he’d always wanted to be. Talk about a recipe for disaster.

  Shrugging off a sudden wave of sadness, Donata said, “So where were you when your father appeared to you the first time?”

  Jonah pointed at an area with sawdust. “I was over there.” They all walked over together. “It was really early, about five a.m.; the twins were teething and got me up at the crack of dawn, so I figured I might as well come get in some practice before everyone else got here. I’ve been struggling with some of the sword moves and wanted to go through them without an audience.”

  He stopped about six feet away from the wall. “I was standing right about here, and when I swung around, there he was, under the window. I could see the texture of the wall right through him. Freaked me the hell out, I don’t mind telling you. Practically dropped the damn sword on my foot.”

  “Huh,” Donata said. “Did he say or do anything? Could you make out his expression?”

  “He looked annoyed, like he always did when he was alive.” Jonah shrugged. “He never thought I was good enough. Told me so every damned day of my life until he got killed doing black ops over in the Middle East for some rent-a-soldier company. That was about ten years ago, though; I sure as hell didn’t expect him to show up and critique my footwork now.”

  Magnus raised an eyebrow. “How could you tell that’s what he was doing?”

  “Well, I couldn’t, really. He stood there and pointed at me. I just figured he was criticizing my moves, since that’s what he would have done if he was alive. He stared at me for about five minutes, then disappeared. To be honest, I thought maybe I was starting to crack under the strain of training and hardly any sleep, but then it happened another couple of times, and I found out I wasn’t the only one.” He shuddered. “It’s creepy. I’d rather go into battle outnumbered three to one than have that dead old man staring at me again.”

  Donata walked around the area, examining the wall and the floor, and even moving some of the sawdust with her booted foot.

  “Huh,” she said finally, and bent down to take a closer look.

  “Did you find something?” Magnus asked, crouching next to her.

  She pointed at some faint lines etched into a wooden board. “When I was on top of the cliff where Freddy had his visitation, I saw something that could have been markings, but I wasn’t sure if it wasn’t just some natural scratches in the stone. I’m pretty sure this wasn’t an original part of the wood, though. See?”

  “Are those runes?” Magnus asked. “Or some kind of magical symbols?”

  “That would be my guess, although they’re so faint I can’t tell for sure. I’m going to come back with a piece of paper and a pencil and see if I can get a rubbing from it. Might help me to see it better.” Or not. It was pretty faint.

  “Magic?” Jonah said, giving her a narrow-eyed look. “You mean a Witch did this?”

  Donata sighed. “There are lots of people who use magical symbols besides Witches. And if they are runes, they’re much more likely to have been written by an Ulfhednar, maybe one who has studied as a shaman or a priest.”

  “Oh, right,” he said. “Sorry. This whole thing just has me spooked.”

  “I suspect that’s the point,” Donata said thoughtfully. “The question is, why?”

  Chapter Nine

  A week and a half later, Donata had managed to chase down all the Ulfhednar who had experienced an unwelcome visitation, and had gone to all the places where the hauntings had occurred, and other than having found a few more examples of the mysterious chicken scratches, she was no further ahead than she’d been when she’d arrived.

  The only thing left to do was to try to summon one of the ghosts—something she’d been hoping to avoid for fear of making things worse instead of better. But before she settled down to do that, she figured she’d better get someplace with a cell signal and call the Chief. He’d told her to take two or three weeks, but she was already nearing three and she didn’t want to push her luck. She’d done that enough with him in the past year, and she was a little worried that eventually he’d run out of what little patience he had to begin with. She’d hate to lose her job now that she’d finally started to like it again.

  “Do you think I could borrow the truck Magnus was using?” she asked Astrid at breakfast. Kari and Lars had just left with the kids, and Magnus had been long gone by the time she got up, as usual. Enar and Erik had headed out to school, so it was only Donata, Astrid, and Halvor at the table.

  Halvor looked up from his coffee. “Why?” he asked. “You can walk to any place you have to be.”

  “Actually, I need to contact my boss back home,” Donata said. “And there are a couple of other calls I should make as well. But that means I have to get to someplace with a cell signal.”

  “Hmph,” Halvor growled. “We have no need for such things in Gimle, nor do we welcome the intrusion of cable companies or dish salesmen, even if those people were foolish enough to brave the woods and the distance. There will never be a cell tower here. Anyone we want to talk to we can see in the street or visit at home.”

  Donata felt like she was living in some kind of alternative universe run by Vikings crossed with the Amish.

  “I understand that,” she said in an even tone. “But my boss might not. So I thought I’d drive into the next town, if I can borrow the use of a vehicle.”

  “Actually, I had been planning to go into Masonville sometime soon to pick up some groceries and supplies I can’t get here. No reason I can’t go today and take you in with me,” Astrid said, getting up and clearing the table. “We can head out in about an hour, if that suits you.”

  “That would be terrific,” Donata said gratefully. “I’m happy to help you with the shopping once I finish my calls.”

  “No need for that,” Astrid said. “I’m really sneaking off to meet my secret lover. I’ll just pick up a few things at the grocery store on the way out of town.” Halvor looked up at her and rolled his eyes, and she kissed him on the head as she went past. The affection between the two of them was as palpable as Halvor’s antagonism toward Donata, and she felt a pang of envy for their connection. She glanced down at the ring on her finger and sighed. Too bad it was all an illusion.

  Still, her job was very real, and if she wanted to keep it, she’d better be prepared to explain why she couldn’t return home just yet. Somehow she didn’t think a fake engagement was going to work on the Chief.

  Astrid dropped Donata off in a tiny square of public park near the center of the small (but still considerably larger than Gimle), quaint town of Masonville. The grocery store was a couple of blocks away, and the older woman could swing by and
pick Donata up when the shopping was done. A wooden bench under a stately oak tree gave Donata a place to sit as she scrolled through the calls she’d missed while she’d been out of communication with the rest of the world. One from her mother, one from her friend Doc Havens, and one from the Chief on his work phone. Plus a half a dozen calls from the same number, one she didn’t recognize.

  She might as well get the worst call out of the way first.

  “O’Malley,” said the voice on the other end of the phone. “Speak.”

  “Hello, sir. It’s Donata Santori. I’m sorry it took me so long to check in, but there is no cell service where I’m staying, and this was my first chance to get someplace where I could make a call.”

  There was a brief pause. “You’re supposed to be on vacation, Santori. People don’t call and report in from vacation. I realize you probably don’t know that because you never take time off, but shockingly enough, it’s true.”

  Donata was also pretty sure that vacations were supposed to be more relaxing than whatever this was she was doing, but she wasn’t going to get into it.

  “Yes, sir. But when we talked, you said I could take three weeks, and this situation isn’t proving as easy to clear up as I’d hoped it would. I might need a little bit more time.” She braced herself for the yelling.

  “Interesting you should mention time off, Santori,” the Chief said in a suspiciously calm voice. “I called around to a couple of the other local stations to see if maybe I could borrow another Witness Retrieval Specialist for a few days while you were gone, to deal with a time-sensitive case that came up. Had some very educational conversations with my fellow police chiefs. I don’t suppose you know what I’m talking about, do you?”

  Crap. She probably did know what he was talking about. “Um . . .”

  “Don’t ‘um’ me, Santori. Were you aware that the normal schedule for a Witness Retrieval Specialist is six weeks on, two weeks off? Apparently talking to the dead—especially those who met violent ends—is considered to be stressful enough that those who do it are advised to take periodic breaks so they don’t burn out.”

  Donata chewed on the end of her long braid, a habit she was trying to break. “I, uh, might have heard something about that, although that wasn’t the rule when I started.”

  “You were a member of the first graduating class that included Witches, almost eight years ago, Santori. I suspect a number of protocols have changed as more and more Witches have joined the force. They may still be a serious minority, but most of the work they do is highly specialized and requires unique rules. I’m surprised your union rep hasn’t contacted me before this.”

  “Oh,” Donata said, torn between relief and indignation. “I’m fine, though.”

  “Uh-huh. No problems with burnout? Not feeling at all stressed by what you’ve gone through this year?”

  “Well, I admit I’ve been dragging a bit, but I don’t need to take two weeks off every couple of months. That’s just ridiculous. My caseload would be insane if I did that.”

  The Chief let out a snort. “All cops’ caseloads are insane, even Witch-cops’. It comes with the territory. Besides, it turns out that there are actually Witness Retrieval Specialists who act as floaters—kind of like substitute teachers—and go wherever they’re needed to fill in. When you get back here, we’re going to have a serious discussion about revamping your schedule.

  “In the meanwhile, I’ve arranged for one of the graduates from this year’s police academy to come in as a long-term sub. If he works out, we may just keep him on permanently. Now that I’ve got you working on these special cases, you could use a hand, and we’ve got the numbers to justify it.”

  “But, Chief, I don’t want to take that much time off, really. I just need another week or two here and I’ll be ready to get back to work. I don’t need help.”

  “What you need, Santori, is to get a life, so you don’t actually think spending all day every day at your job is a good idea,” the Chief said, not unkindly. “For now, I expect you to take another couple more weeks off. I don’t want to see you back in here until after Thanksgiving. If whatever you’re working on finishes up before that, maybe you should consider going someplace more interesting for the rest of your vacation. You know, lie on a beach. Drink something with an umbrella in it. Rest up. I promise there will be plenty of work waiting for you when you get back. And, Santori?”

  “Yes, Chief?”

  “Try and stay out of trouble this time, will you?”

  He hung up with his usual abruptness.

  Huh. Well, that had gone both better and worse than she’d expected. She wasn’t sure how she felt about not having any pressure to get back to the office. She should probably have felt relieved, but instead, she actually felt a little lost. Maybe the Chief had a point about her needing to get a life.

  Speaking of which, she’d better get to checking in with the little bit she did have. She left a message on the answering machine at her apartment, knowing that Ricky would be listening to it, although he refused to actually pick up a phone. Kobolds had a serious distrust of modern technology. “Modern” being anything invented after about 1812.

  “I’m going to be away a little bit longer than I’d planned,” she said. “I’ll ask Doc to bring over some more food and cat litter and stuff. Everything is okay, and I’ll be home as soon as I can.” She paused. “Do not swipe things out of the neighbors’ refrigerators. I mean it, Ricky. Give Grimalkin a hug for me. Bye.”

  Then she called Doc, expecting to have to leave a message there, too, but apparently it was a slow day at the morgue.

  “It’s about time you called,” Doc scolded her. “I worry, you know. How are things going? Are you home?”

  “I miss you, too, Doc,” Donata said with a smile. “And no, I’m still here in the middle of nowhere, Maine, trying without any success to figure out why there are ghosts where there are never ghosts, and why they are haunting only a certain set of people.”

  “Not going well?” Doc said sympathetically. “How are you doing with Magnus’s family? For that matter, how is tall, blond, and gorgeous? Have you two hooked up yet?”

  “Magnus’s father doesn’t trust me, his sister hates me, and his mother is a gem. He also has the most adorable niece and nephew on the planet. So all in all, I guess it could be worse.”

  Doc snickered. “I notice you didn’t answer that last question, Donata. Something you’d like to share with the class?”

  “No.” Donata made the single word as decisive as possible. The last thing she wanted to do was get into the complicated non-relationship she had with Magnus. She gazed down at the ring on the fourth finger of her left hand. Especially not now.

  “I always thought the two of you made a cute couple,” Doc persisted. She had all the subtlety of a rhino, which was normally one of the things Donata liked about her. “He’s definitely an improvement on Anton the liar and Peter the temperamental.”

  Donata rolled her eyes at the phone. “Which is exactly why I am not getting involved with anyone else anytime in the near future. I need some time to recover from the last two. Besides, Magnus and I decided a long time ago that our professional conflicts made things too complicated for us to be together.”

  “You mean because you are a cop and he tends to take on jobs that skirt a little bit too close to the edge?” Doc said. “I always thought that was a stupid reason to break up with the perfect guy.”

  “He’s not perfect,” Donata said automatically, trying not to think about his infectious grin or those impressive muscles, all wrapped up in one gorgeous package. “And it’s not stupid to worry that someday you’re going to have to arrest your own boyfriend.”

  It wasn’t that Magnus did anything bad, exactly. It was just that during the years he’d been shunned by his people for not completing the Ulf training, he’d had to find work that suited his par
ticular talents and abilities—most of which had to do with being incredibly strong, solidly dependable, and capable of fighting. He took on bodyguarding jobs, worked as muscle for a few of the PIs around town, and did mysterious errands for others in the Paranormal community, among other things. But Ulfhednar ideas of what constituted right and wrong didn’t always match up with what Human society considered to be strictly legal.

  And Donata was a cop, living by those rules. In the end, it had been too much for the relationship, although they’d stayed friends when it was all over.

  “Seems to me that you’ve gotten a lot more flexible about where you draw the lines these days,” Doc said. “What with everything that’s happened in the last nine months.”

  Donata couldn’t really argue with that. Since the Pentacle Pentimento had entered her life, it seemed like she’d been breaking both Human and Paranormal rules right and left. She’d even murdered someone, although it was in self-defense and there hadn’t even been a body left afterward. It still felt like murder, though, when she woke up screaming in the middle of the night.

  “I haven’t had much choice,” Donata said.

  “I know that, hon, and I’m not judging you,” Doc said, her Texan accent stronger than usual, as always happened when she got emotional. “I’m just suggesting that maybe you might want to revisit your attitude toward Magnus now that you’ve learned that life isn’t always quite as black-and-white as you thought it was.”

  Donata bit her lip, studiously not looking back down at her hand again. “It’s too late, Doc. Magnus is back home where he belongs, accepted by his people and his family again, just like he always wanted. And I’ll be returning to the city and my job as soon as I can figure out what’s going on here.” She took a deep breath. She was not going to start crying over nothing in the middle of a public park, for Hecate’s sake. She was a tough Witch-cop, and tough Witch-cops didn’t cry.