Veiled Enchantments

by Deborah Blake

  She took a deep breath. “Is everyone blaming me?”

  Magnus turned toward her. “What are you talking about? Why would anyone blame you? You didn’t do anything to provoke her, and yet she tried to kill you twice. You can hardly be held responsible for that.”

  “Yes, but if I hadn’t been here—“

  “I’m the one who brought you here,” he said. “Does that mean I’m to blame for her bad choices?”

  “No,” Donata said. “Of course not. I just feel like I should have done something differently. It’s such a waste. I liked her.” She burst into the tears she’d been holding back since she’d felt the knife against her throat, threatening not only her own life but that of a baby whose existence she’d barely had time to accept.

  Magnus kicked off his boots and slid under the covers, holding her in his strong arms as she cried. Donata thought he might have cried a few more tears of his own as she wrapped her arms around him in return. After a while, he wiped her face with the edge of his shirt, then kissed the remaining tears away softly.

  He pushed the hair out of her eyes, kissing her eyelids and running gentle hands down her jaw and over her throat, lingering briefly on the thin line the knife’s blade had left behind.

  “I thought I was going to lose you,” he said, his voice as rough as his fingers were tender. “I thought I was going to lose you both.”

  And then his mouth was on hers, kissing her until she was breathless. He pulled her nightshirt off over her head and covered her body with kisses, stroking and caressing her until she yanked at his clothing, demanding his nakedness to match her own.

  Then for a long time, there was nothing but passion and pleasure, reclaiming life from the ashes of death, comforting each other in the only way they could in that moment. Donata let go of all thought and simply reveled in the feeling of his body moving over hers, sliding inside her, bringing her to heights of ecstasy over and over.

  In the early dawn light, they finally fell asleep in each other’s arms, having achieved a measure of peace together they never could have found alone.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  The next morning, Donata woke up alone. Next to her on the other pillow was a note that said, “You look beautiful when you’re asleep—I couldn’t stand to wake you.” It was signed with a silly drawing of a bear blowing kisses. She’d forgotten about Magnus’s talent for childlike doodles. When they’d been together, she used to find them everywhere.

  After she’d showered and put on the warmest clothes she had—a black cotton sweater and jeans—she went down the hall to the kitchen, Kari’s stained dress draped over her arm. The clock on the wall ticked its way toward nine, and the room was empty. A note from Astrid, without any embellishments, told her that she should help herself to cheese and bread, and that the family would be out most of the day taking part in the Ulfhednar rituals that followed a death. She didn’t suggest Donata join them. Donata didn’t take it personally.

  Instead, she took the keys to the truck and drove into Masonville.

  As she’d hoped, the lone dry cleaner in town was open the Friday after Thanksgiving, and she left Kari’s dress there. The tiny elderly Italian woman behind the counter swore she could get the bloodstains out, although she eyed their location and the healing line on Donata’s throat with an avid curiosity that reminded Donata of a sparrow watching a particularly tasty-looking insect moving through the grass. She suspected she’d feature heavily in the town gossip later in the day.

  Once that errand was out of the way, she found a small café, nearly deserted while most people were still at home with their families, and took a cup of tea and a lemon scone into the quietest corner she could find. She pulled out her phone and, after a moment’s hesitation, hit the speed dial for her sister, a healer who used her magical talents as a nurse in a Human hospital. Donata needed answers, and this was the best way she could think of to get them. It was going to be a hell of a tough conversation, though.

  “Donata!” her sister said. “This is a surprise. Mother said you were still in Maine. We missed you at Thanksgiving dinner.”

  “I missed you all too. And I am still in Maine, but I needed some information, and I thought you might be able to help me.”

  “Well, sure, if I can. Is it something to do with the problem you’re helping Magnus with?”

  “Not exactly,” Donata said. Damn, this was embarrassing. “Not at all, actually. It’s more of a personal thing.”

  “Oh, okay,” her sister said. “You’re not sick, are you?”

  “No, I’m fine,” Donata said, lifting her fingers to her neck and then forcing them back down to grip her mug again. “I just wondered if you knew if there was some kind of DNA test or something that could identify the Paranormal race of the father before a baby was born.”

  “For Ulfhednar women, you mean?” Lucia sounded confused.

  “Uh, no. For Witches.” Donata held her breath and waited for it.

  There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone and then her sister shrieked, “Donata. Are you pregnant?”

  Donata was glad she’d picked a corner of the café away from anyone else. As it was, she glanced around to see if anyone was looking at her. Thankfully, the only other customer in the place was an elderly man reading a novel, in which he seemed completely engrossed.

  “Yes, I am,” Donata said. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything to Gabriella or our parents. I’d rather tell them in person when I get home.” She’d rather not tell them at all, but in a few months that option was going to vanish, along with her waistline.

  “Are you coming home soon?” Lucia asked. “And is Magnus the father?”

  Donata gave it a minute.

  Lucia let out a whistle. “Oh, crap. You don’t know, do you? Could it be Peter, do you think? Man, that’s awkward.”

  She had no idea. Even the slight possibility that the father might be a Major Anemoi made things a whole lot more complicated, and not just because Donata had killed him, although that could certainly ruin dinner with the in-laws. Donata’s great-great-great-great-grandmother had been the only Witch woman to ever survive a pregnancy and carry a half–Major Anemoi child successfully to term. If West wasn’t lying about Anton’s ability to make Donata pregnant without actual physical contact, the baby she was carrying might be the hope of the Major Anemoi race . . . or Donata’s death warrant.

  For now, she thought she’d stick to the Dragon-versus-Ulfhednar option for her sister. That was problematic enough on its own.

  “Does Magnus know?” Lucia asked.

  “Which?” Donata said. “That I’m pregnant, or that the baby might be Peter’s? Either way, the answer is yes, he knows. He seems to be happy about it—he even proposed.”

  “That’s great!” her sister said. “Isn’t it? I mean, I know that Witch and Ulfhednar unions aren’t common, but it isn’t as though they’re forbidden, and you already lead a pretty unconventional life. I think Mother has almost given up on you ever getting married. She barely even tries to find eligible Witch men to invite to Saturday-night dinners anymore. She might be relieved you found someone, even if he isn’t one of our people.”

  “Thanks for that,” Donata said in a dry tone. There was a benefit of her unexpected pregnancy she hadn’t considered. At least it would stop her mother from setting her up with boring professional Witches with successful careers and impeccable credentials. For a while, anyway.

  “You don’t sound very happy about it,” Lucia noted. “Didn’t you say yes?”

  “Well, for one thing, I thought I’d like to find out if he is the baby’s father first,” Donata said. “For another, he said he was happy about the baby and wanted to take care of both of us. He didn’t mention the word ‘love,’ though.”

  “Oh.” Lucia paused. “He is a guy, Donata. Maybe he thought that part was implied. I ador
e my husband, but sometimes the things he assumes go without saying make me nuts.”

  Donata shrugged, even though her sister couldn’t see her. “There’s more to it than that, Lucia. We had a tough enough go of it the first time we dated. We were both on the outskirts of our societies, me because of being a cop, and him because he’d been banished for breaking the rules, which helped bring us together. We were also both trying to find ourselves and our places in the world. In the end, he played too fast and loose with the law for me to be able to deal with, and so we broke up.

  “These days, I guess I have found my place, even though it isn’t perfect. I love my job and don’t want to give it up. But Magnus just finished his Ulf training, and his place is back with his people. I don’t see any way to make a long-distance relationship work if we aren’t either of us ever going to move, especially with a baby in the mix.” She sighed. “But he still deserves to know if he is the father.”

  “Well, that’s easy enough, at least,” Lucia said. “Even if I can’t help you with the rest of it.”

  “So there is a test?” Donata breathed a sigh of relief.

  Her sister laughed. “You don’t need one, silly. Witch mothers can talk to their unborn children—didn’t you know that?”

  “Huh,” Donata said. “I must have been out the day they covered that at Witch School.”

  “Or not paying attention because you didn’t think it would ever apply to you, so you weren’t interested.”

  She was definitely interested now. “Yeah, maybe that. Either way, isn’t the baby too little to talk to yet? The doctor said I was about a month or a month and a half along; that was a week ago.”

  “‘Talk’ might be an exaggeration,” Lucia said. “‘Communicate’ would probably be a better word. Even at this point you should be able to check in on the baby and get a feel for general things like health and, um . . . identity. You should even be able to get a sense of the gender, if the baby has already decided on one.”

  Donata wasn’t even going to ask what her sister meant by that. Witch babies were not like Human babies, at least not exactly.

  “Great,” she said instead. “Do I have to do anything special? A ritual or anything? Because my magic has been a little wonky. That’s how I discovered I was pregnant in the first place. I called Great-Aunt Tatiana to ask her if she could think of any reason why I would suddenly have a hard time talking to the dead, and she told me about pregnancy sometimes affecting Witches in their first trimester.”

  Lucia laughed. “That explains why she spent Thanksgiving looking at the place where you usually sit and snickering. Gabriella and I thought maybe she was finally losing her marbles.”

  “Ha,” Donata said. “Nobody has a better grip on their marbles than Tatiana.”

  “Apparently not. And no, you don’t have to do a ritual. Just go into a light trance state and focus on the baby. I started checking in on Sophia Gaia as soon as I knew I was pregnant and then periodically for the remainder of the time I was carrying her. I was even able to pick up on a small heart murmur and fix it while she was still in utero, although since you’re not a healer, you’d probably want me to handle something like that.”

  Definitely. Donata suspected her own skill set wouldn’t be much help, unless the baby had ghostly friends pre-birth or did something illegal and needed to be arrested.

  Which reminded her. “Lucia, is there anything dangerous about speaking to the dead while I’m pregnant? I don’t want to give up my job, but I also wouldn’t want to do anything that wasn’t good for the baby. Assuming I ever get my powers back and can do my job at all.” She slumped over her tea, mildly depressed by both the idea that she might not be able to work and the thought of being a single mother who worked full-time.

  “Oh, I doubt it,” her sister said. “Just don’t overdo it. And don’t worry, your abilities should return as soon as you move out of the first trimester. I didn’t have any problems, but when Gabriella was pregnant, it happened to her when she was carrying the twins She lost her ability to accurately predict stocks as soon as she conceived, and it took about three months for the babies’ energy to start meshing with her own. Then everything went right back to normal. I think she ended up doing some kind of paperwork at her office until she could get back to her job, but of course, she works for a Witch-owned company that is staffed entirely by Witches, so everyone understood. You might have to take a leave of absence for the next month and a half or two months, I suppose.”

  Crap. Now she was going to have to make another uncomfortable phone call. Crap, crap, crap.

  “You’re what?” the Chief bellowed. This time the old guy across the café actually looked up from his book. Donata gave him a smile, or what was supposed to be a smile, although it made him duck his head back down and studiously ignore her.

  “Sorry, Chief. I know this isn’t exactly convenient, since I have already been gone for over a month.” She started trying to think of what she would do with her life if he fired her.

  There was a strange choking sound on the other end of the phone, and it took her a minute to figure out that he was actually laughing. Hard. So hard, it took him about five minutes to get himself under control.

  Finally, he said, “Santori, I’ve got three kids and five grandkids, and the one thing I can tell you for sure is that babies are never convenient.” He laughed some more. “I’m assuming this was unintentional, but I can also tell you from my experience that nothing in life is more worth being inconvenienced over. We’ll figure something out. Worse comes to worst, you can go through files on the hundreds of cold cases we never have time to give enough attention to. You’re a good cop—maybe you’ll spot something.”

  “You’re not firing me?” Donata had to wipe away a tear she never would have cried two months ago. She could tell she was going to hate hormones.

  She could almost hear the eye roll through the phone. “Santori, I already told you that we owe you months of back time off, plus the union would never let me fire a cop just for being pregnant. Not even a Witch-cop.” He chuckled. “I told you to take at least until Thanksgiving, and that was only yesterday. If you need another week or another month, just let me know. I’ll make sure that the temporary Witness Retrieval Specialist knows he’ll have to cover for you for another two months or so.”

  “Oh,” Donata said. “Okay.” She hated the thought of someone else sitting at her desk. Hopefully the Chief wouldn’t put her back in the basement when she returned, if he decided to keep them both on. She really loved her window, even if it only looked out on the parking lot.

  “I can tell you’re thinking something crazy, Santori. Whatever it is, cut it out.” The Chief sounded as gruff as usual, but there was an undertone of affection in his voice. “This guy does a good enough job for someone straight out of the academy, but I’m too damn old to start training someone from scratch to do things my way. And I don’t trust anyone but you to deal with the weird stuff.” That’s what he called the cases that had Paranormal involvement, something that as a Human he wasn’t even supposed to be aware of. But he’d been a cop a long time, and not much got by him. “Do what you’ve got to do. Your job will be waiting for you when you get back.”

  Donata let out a deep breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Thanks, Chief. I’ll check in as soon as I know something more definite about when I’ll be coming back. I’ve still got some loose ends to tie up here, if I can figure out how.”

  And a baby to talk to, hopefully. Holy crap but her life was getting odder by the minute.

  On her way out of town, she passed the crazy priest handing out leaflets. Out of curiosity, she took one. It had a picture on the front of a traditional Witch in a pointed black hat dancing with a red devil carrying a pitchfork. In a bold, stylized font, it said, “The Devil Is Everywhere. Beware.” On the inside, there was a list of all the things that allowed the devil a foothold, includin
g birth control, short skirts on women, and video games.

  Well, that answered one question anyway. Definitely not Cabal. Just a good old-fashioned zealot. That was a relief. One less enemy to worry about. This week.

  When she got back to the compound, the house was still empty. The Torvalds, Magnus included, were such a loud and vibrant bunch, it felt strange to be there without them. The silence seemed to echo in a way that it never did in her own quiet apartment. It was going to be quite the change to go from a large home full of large, boisterous, and energetic Ulfhednar to her small apartment with one small Kobold and a medium-sized (and no doubt by now extremely pissed-off) cat.

  Of course, soon enough there would be a small but undoubtedly boisterous baby. Talk about culture shock. That was really going to be an adjustment. She wondered how Ricky the Kobold felt about babysitting.

  In her own room, she shut the door, took off her boots, and lay down on top of the comforter. Closing her eyes, she started taking the slow, deep breaths that would move her quickly into a light trance. Once that state was achieved, she wasn’t quite sure what to do next.

  She focused her attention on the middle of her body and sent out a silent “Hello?” For a moment there was nothing and then she felt a light response, almost as if some tiny bit of energy, both separate from and a part of her at the same time, had suddenly become aware of her existence.

  There was no answering “Hello”—probably wouldn’t be for months—but as her sister had promised, she did get an instinctive sense of the essence of the baby growing inside her, as well as a momentary vision, a glimpse of the child it would someday be. Healthy, yes. And a boy, whose energy was unmistakably that of his father. She was surprised by just how happy the information made her.