

Copyright 2018 by Amy Spahn

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law. For permissions, visit www.acspahn.com.

The characters, places, and events in this book are fictitious, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Cover design by Jenny Zemanek at Seedlings Design Studio

# To Amani

# Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Epilogue

Enchantress Under Pressure

Author's Note

About the Author

Other Books by A. C. Spahn

# Chapter 1

MAGIC PULSED THROUGH THE AIR, resonating inside my skull with the rhythms of a brooding drummer. _kadum ... kadum ... kadum_. I tensed. A blob of hot glue dripped onto the back of my hand.

"Gah!" I flinched. My glue gun clattered onto the worktable. Cursing under my breath, I peeled the congealing glue from my skin and rummaged under the counter for my first aid kit. If I was lucky, this burn wouldn't go beyond first degree.

"Oh dear," said the silver-haired woman across the counter. A faint trace of an accent lingered in her voice. "Are you hurt, Adrienne?"

I smiled at her as I smeared burn cream across my knuckles. "I'm fine, Mrs. J. This happens all the time. Occupational hazard."

"Do be more careful, girl. My heart can't take startles like that."

I finished treating my hand and returned to my current project. The wind chime was nearly complete, hanging from a hook over my workspace so I could put on the finishing touches. A ring of solid oak formed its base, stained and varnished to give it a smooth finish. Fishing line dangled from the wood, suspending nine chimes of polished sea glass in lavender and cerulean. The chime danced in the sunlight pouring through the big windows at the front of the store.

Kadum. Kadum. Kadum.

Annoyed, I tried to ignore the magic. Couldn't afford to reveal the supernatural world to a customer. Especially not Mrs. Jacinta, who might keel over from shock. I retrieved my glue gun and turned the oak base so that it faced me from the most flattering angle. With careful movements, I smeared hot glue across the back of a thin steel plate the size of a quarter, engraved with the silhouette of a wave breaking on the shore. I stuck the plate firmly on the side of the wood, and after letting it cool a moment I turned the wind chime to face Mrs. Jacinta. "What do you think?"

Her warm brown eyes lit up. "Beautiful as always. How much?"

_Kadum!_ Another wave of magic pounded against my mind. Harder this time, like the engraved wave was smothering my thoughts. I braced myself on the counter, my deep beige skin a soft contrast to the dark wood of the workspace. "Ugh ... this was a custom piece, so ..."

Mrs. Jacinta's eyes became concerned. " _Está enferma_?"

Kadum! Kadum! Kadum!

"No," I answered in English. "I'm not sick."

" _Lo siento, mi querida artista_ ," said Mrs. J. "I always forget you don't use your Spanish. Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine." I wasn't fine. Magic closed in, weighing on my skin and burrowing into my bones, faster than usual. If I didn't relieve the pressure soon, it would only get worse. Fortunately Mrs. Jacinta could help me. "Listen," I said, "you mentioned this was a gift for your granddaughter?"

She nodded. "For her new house. They just bought a place out in San Mateo. They're going with a beach motif."

KADUM! KADUM!

I fought not to shudder. "New house. That's a big investment. Are they worried about the mortgage?"

She frowned. The question was impertinent, but I had no time to think about that. "I suppose everybody worries about money in this economy," she said. "Listen, dear, you don't look well. Do you want to sit down?"

"Just give me a minute. I'll be all right. I forgot something on the chime." Blinking to keep my vision clear, I unhooked the wind chime from the wood beam above the counter, then headed behind a folding screen embroidered with black and white flowers. The screen partitioned off a corner of my workspace, hiding it from public eyes.

Once in privacy, I leaned against the wall and carefully laid the chimes on a metal worktable. I dug into the cabinets beneath the table, poring through small drawers stuffed with crafting materials and tools. Dried leaves, cardboard tubes, bits of wire and glass and ribbon. Frayed fabric edges, soda can tabs, screwdrivers, leather presses and drill bits. The tools of my trade. I pulled out a strip of leather cord, then continued searching.

The magic was pressing harder now, trying to crush me beneath its weight. I felt it snaking around my chest, toward my heart. _Not there,_ I thought, willing the magic away from that vulnerable spot. It retreated, barely. I had to hurry, but I couldn't choose just anything. Selecting the wrong material could ruin the enchantment, not to mention Mrs. Jacinta's granddaughter's life.

Nothing in the cabinets seemed right. Gritting my teeth, I returned to the counter and popped open the gate that separated my workshop from the rest of Crafter's Haven. Mrs. Jacinta called a question after me, but I didn't respond as I went searching through the aisles of art supplies.

I found Kendall in the knitting section, sorting out balls of yarn that customers had misplaced. "Kendall, I need your wallet," I said.

My best friend spun toward me, her green eyes alarmed. Her dagger-shaped dangly earrings jingled as she looked me up and down. "You okay?"

"Wallet," I said, flinching as another wave of magic rolled over me. "Now."

Wordlessly she drew her duct tape wallet from her back pocket and passed it over. She'd made it herself with black tape and orange trim, and a little beaded zipper pull that read "404 Money Not Found." I rummaged through the cash pocket until I found a smooth, new twenty. I yanked it out and returned the wallet.

"You gonna give that back?" Kendall called as I rushed away.

At my workspace, I flashed a reassuring smile at Mrs. Jacinta before ducking behind the partition. I slapped the twenty on the metal table beside the wind chime, then draped the leather cord across the two objects. I closed my eyes and reached into the fog of magic choking the air.

_May riches grace the home where this wind chime rings,_ I chanted in my mind. _May poverty never find shelter there. May this be a talisman of plenty, a harbinger of abundance._

I repeated the words as I felt the magic move, swirling around me, guided by my impromptu enchantment. I sent it into the twenty dollar bill, letting it absorb the money's nature, the crispness of the paper, the smell of the ink, the financial security it represented. Once the magic had stewed there, I channeled it through the soft leather cord and into the engraved wave on the chime.

When I opened my eyes, the enchantment had taken hold.

... kadum ... ... kadum ... ...

The magical pressure around me eased. Tension faded from my muscles. Relieved, I took the wind chime and returned to the counter.

"Oh," exclaimed Mrs. Jacinta. "It's beautiful! How did you get the wave that color of green?"

I glanced down at the verdant gleam now filling the steel engraving. "Trade secret."

"It looks so natural, so gentle," she said.

I smiled. That would be the influence of the soft leather. I'd chosen well. "I'm glad you like it. The store has a booth at the art fair this weekend, so tell your friends to come check us out."

"Oh, wonderful. I always do." She pulled out her wallet. "How much do I owe you?"

I quoted her an amount that accounted for cost of materials plus my hours of work. She paid, and I wrapped the wind chime in butcher paper for her before she left with a bag full of other art supplies she'd bought from the store, along with a handmade Cinco de Mayo banner that was discounted post-holiday. I was of Colombian heritage, so I didn't celebrate the day myself, but I kept a small part of my shop for other local artists to sell their work and gain exposure. These last two weeks, a Mexican artist had put up a dozen vibrant Cinco de Mayo decorations and even a handmade piñata. Almost all of them had sold right away. She paid me a small percentage of her sales to cover store costs, plus the displays drew in new business. My regular customers like Mrs. Jacinta appreciated the variety, too.

Kendall came to find me a moment later. I passed her the twenty, and she took it with visible relief. "I was afraid you were going to burn it."

"That happened _one_ time," I said. "And I paid you back."

"Yeah, a month later." Kendall leaned over the counter, trying to get a look at my partitioned workspace. "Soooo, was it bad?"

"Kinda." I remembered the magical pressure squeezing me like a vise. "Not as bad as the time I burned your money. I was able to channel the magic without damaging anything."

"What'd you make?"

"Money charm, for Mrs. Jacinta's granddaughter."

"Cool. When do I get a money charm?"

I swatted her. "You know it doesn't work like that. I can't just go handing out enchanted talismans for everything. If the magic interacted badly with your condition—"

"Yo, it's not a disease." Kendall winked at me, and rings of russet fur flashed around her eyes. Kendall was a squirrel shifter. That story about Merlin turning King Arthur into a squirrel? Completely true. Unlike most paranormals, though, Kendall had been born with her power.

Enchanters like me had been screwing around with Earth's magical field for centuries, channeling magic into talismans and people, creating creatures of the night. But only recently had global communications technology enabled those reshaped by magic to find each other and form communities. From those communities came relationships, and from those relationships came more paranormals, born under enchantment. The paranormal world still hid itself from the normals, but beneath the surface those touched by magic lived our secret lives.

Kendall ran a hand through her spiky red hair, and the fur around her eyes disappeared. "But seriously. I have finals next week. Any chance you could make me a little good luck charm?"

I shook my head. "You're already holding too much magic. If I link more to you, I can't say how the enchantments will interact. Besides, I don't think even magic could help you pass calculus."

"Please. Calc is easy. It's linear algebra that's a killer." Kendall stuck her tongue out at me, then turned as the store's door opened, jangling the bells hung over it. "Speaking of charming things."

Desmond Desoto stepped inside the store, and my heart did a cartwheel. The owner of Crafter's Haven was tall and fit, and the dark denim jacket he wore accentuated his broad shoulders and heavy musculature. Sawdust from his woodshop flecked his jeans. His light brown features were angular and smooth, except a faint dent in his nose where he'd broken it in a staged swordfight at the Renaissance Faire. He wore his black hair long and tousled to cover his big ears, but they stuck out adorably beneath it anyway.

Pressure buzzed on my skin as he approached, though this had nothing to do with magic. "Hey Desmond," I said. "Having fun playing with your power tools?"

"Always," he said. "If you're ever done tinkering with your beads and paste, I'll show you what real craftsmanship is."

We glared at each other. I broke first, my lips curving into a smile. It was an old game between us, arguing over whose artistic medium was superior.

Desmond grinned, nodding to my messy work space. "Busy day?"

"One commission. Mostly I've been doing pieces for the site." I had an online shop where I sold my work, though the art classes I taught at Crafter's Haven, plus special requests from in-store customers, paid half my bills.

"You ready for the art fair? You'll have a whole table to yourself."

"Mostly. I have a few things to finish up. How much do I owe you?"

He shook his head. "You don't have to pay me, Adrienne."

"Booths at these things aren't cheap. The least I can do is cover my share."

"The rent you pay for your workspace is enough." Desmond rapped his knuckles on my counter. "Besides, I know how hard it is to make money doing your little crafty projects."

I smirked and swatted his hand away. "I'm paying my part. And at least my art is genuinely artistic. How hard is it to make a table?"

"Pretty hard, actually. Plus there's the risk of cutting your fingers off, which appeals to my masculine sensibilities."

"Yeah, well ... I dripped hot glue on my knuckles this morning."

"Ooh, burn."

Kendall made a face.

"What?" asked Desmond. "Too on the nose?"

"Like a swollen pimple."

"Harsh." Desmond raised an eyebrow and made a production of scanning the store. "Am I paying you to hang out and socialize?"

"Nope," said Kendall. "You pay me to be awesome."

He laughed again, a rich bass sound. "Fair enough. If customers come in, I expect you to be awesome at the register."

Kendall saluted.

Desmond headed for the back of the store. "Sorry to leave, ladies, but my caveman senses are tingling. There's some dead trees that need carving."

"Try not to lose any body parts," I called.

He flashed his own salute before disappearing between the aisles.

Once he was out of earshot, Kendall leaned across the counter again. "Would you guys just admit how you feel and make out already?"

My cheeks burned, and I busied myself with stringing beads on a wire bracelet. "I'm not making the first move."

"Why the hell not? I would."

"He's a normal, Kendall. He can't really know me."

"He might surprise you. You can trust him."

"The moment you start to trust is the easiest moment to get hurt."

"Wow, aren't you the life of the party. Here, we'll practice. You be Desmond, and I'll be you." She crouched so that her nose barely poked above the counter.

I flicked a bead at her. "Come on, I'm not that short."

She snickered and rose until she was closer to my five foot nothing. I could tell she was still bending her knees on the other side of the counter. "'Hi Desmond," she said in a higher voice than her usual alto, "my name is Adrienne Morales."

"He knows my name, you dork."

Undaunted, Kendall continued, "I'm an enchantress. No big deal, I've just been channeling arcane forces through your store. Want to have dinner tonight?' See, is that so har—"

_KADUM!_ Magic tingled across my arms, raising goosebumps on my skin. I gasped. Kendall noticed and froze. "More?"

I nodded, rubbing my arms.

"But you just released some. This isn't normal, right?"

"No," I said. "Usually it takes a few days for it to build."

"What does it mean that it's gathering so fast?"

"I don't know. I think something's comi—"

My words died as the bells over the door jingled, and a masked gunman charged in.

# Chapter 2

KENDALL SHRIEKED and dove behind my counter. I raised my hands, my arms still prickling. "We don't keep much cash on hand. But you can—"

I stopped speaking as I caught the feral gleam in the man's eyes. A ski mask covered his face, but the skin I could see was drenched in sweat. His pupils swallowed his irises, roaming like he wasn't quite sure what he was seeing. "Drink," he moaned. "I need a drink."

I would have thought he was a junkie were it not for the bits of black ink on his forehead peeking from beneath the mask. My stomach skipped sideways. I'd seen such tattoos before. "Sir," I said, "I can help you, but you need to—"

The man dropped his gun and clutched his neck. A wretched gagging noise crawled out of his throat. Something glowed amber behind his teeth.

I barely had time to lower my arms before fire erupted from his mouth. The first blast burned only air, but the second hit a cardboard display of felt, googly eyes, and other craft supplies for kids. Flames leaped toward the ceiling.

Curses filled my mouth. I ducked beneath my counter and yanked a shoebox from the shelves. It wasn't locked, so nobody would think to steal it, but its contents were infinitely more precious than my cash box. Beside me, Kendall had shifted into her squirrel form and trembled amidst her fallen clothes. Shifters, for better or worse, took on some of the instincts of their animal forms. She'd be no help in this fight.

Another spew of flame ignited the leatherwork display table. I opened my shoebox. Dozens of rings, bracelets, and necklaces lay inside, arranged in plastic trays. I tore off the top tray and grabbed a blue plastic ring I had never expected to use. I stood, jammed it on my finger, and aimed at the blazing tables. Then I tapped into the magic I'd stored inside. _Quench,_ I thought.

Water streamed from the ring in a jet so powerful it drove me back a few paces. It doused the burning displays and soaked the entire entry area. The flames died, leaving only a few smoldering embers. The ring's power ran out a moment later. I tore it off my finger and snatched another from the box.

The man seemed to have used up his flame for now. His mad eyes turned toward me. I vaulted the counter to meet him and slid the second ring onto my left index finger.

He bellowed a roar and swung a heavy punch at my face. The blow seemed to come in slow motion, and I moved to duck under it. My own body felt sluggish under the effects of the ring. It didn't do anything flashy, but it was my most complex piece of work. Six layered enchantments, enhancing my five senses plus my perception of time. It couldn't make me move faster, but it did give me time to react.

The man's punch went wild, and I came up behind him. I slammed my foot into the back of his knee, as I had seen Desmond do during a few of his practice sessions I'd watched. Again I seemed to move too slow, like my limbs were asleep. But the kick connected, and the man fell to his knees. He groaned, the sound deep and strung out to my enhanced ears.

I was about to grab a charred leatherworking hammer and hit him in the head when he suddenly rose, moving at regular speed. I froze, mouth open in shock. I hadn't taken the ring off yet. How could he be going so fast, unless ...

He swung another punch at me, and I couldn't react in time. The blow caught me in the side of the head. I reeled against the burned leatherwork table. Its melted plastic gave way beneath my weight, crashing to the floor in a shower of splinters and slag. The man was on me a second later, straddling my slender hips with his greater weight. His body seemed to crush my chest, my sense of touch magnified by my magic. I struggled to pull the sensory ring from my finger, but I couldn't reach it with my other hand. The man's fallen gun taunted me from across the floor. I strained toward it, but my arms came up woefully short.

"Drink," the man moaned. His mouth showed through the hole he'd burned in his mask. Smoke-stained fangs flashed between his gums. He leaned over me, mouth inching toward my throat. "Must drink ... burning ..."

Before he could bite, a shout came from the back of the store. Desmond sprinted down the main center aisle and tackled the man off me.

My limbs freed, I ripped my sensory ring off and shouted, "Desmond, no!" But he was already throwing punches, jab after jab with grace born from years of practice. I braced myself for the inevitable, for the masked man to move faster than reality and overwhelm Desmond, but to my surprise, it never happened. The masked man's limbs were a blur, his movements enchanted beyond normal human capability, but somehow Desmond was always there to block his attacks. It wasn't that Desmond moved faster than normal. It was as if the masked man's abilities just didn't affect him.

The man threw one last punch. Desmond caught it and twisted the man's wrist, rotating his arm behind his back and driving him to the floor. The man moaned, then coughed up another blaze of flame. It guttered out on the tile floor. The man gave a final groan and went limp, apparently unconscious.

Desmond kicked the man's gun safely out of reach down one of the aisles, then lowered the man to the ground. He lay there twitching, his eyes closed, his mouth making vague sounds. "Rink ... pless ... drrrrrr ... rink ..."

I had a lot of questions for Desmond, but they had to wait. Kneeling beside the man, I yanked his mask off to expose the full tattoos on his temples. Intricate circular patterns whorled from his hairline to his cheekbones, each pattern formed of a single, unbroken line that never crossed itself. I scanned the tattoos, counting the individual lines and feeling alarm as I saw that they continued down beneath his t-shirt. "Over a dozen," I whispered.

"What is this?" Desmond asked.

"You don't know?" I glanced up at him.

"I have suspicions, but I think you're more familiar with this sort of body art."

I swallowed. I'd hidden myself from Desmond all three years I'd worked here, but fate had decided that time was done. The past that had hunted me since I was fourteen had finally caught up. "Those are enchantment tattoos," I said. "Lots of them. Someone has placed this man under many different spells. And whoever did it is very, very powerful."

# Chapter 3

DESMOND EYED ME with suspicion. "You're not a normal. You're an enchantress."

My heart hammered in my chest. "You're not a normal either."

He didn't answer, but his weight shifted uneasily.

Carefully, I touched one of the unconscious man's tattoos. "He was enchanted to move faster than any human could react."

"You can tell from the tattoo?"

"No, but I saw him do it. And you didn't have any problem keeping up with him. You might be hiding your own enchantment tattoos beneath your clothes ..." I blushed. "But I don't think that's it. You're a Void, aren't you?"

Desmond tensed, and he fumbled over his words. "A, uh, a what?"

"Don't try to deny it. You're a terrible liar. An enchanter is a locus of magical energy. The world's magical field congeals around us and funnels itself through us. Voids are the opposite. You're not affected by magic. It just bounces off of you."

"That, er, I mean ..."

"Desmond."

He sighed and scuffed the floor with his shoe. "All right, I'm a Void."

"A strong Void, from the look of it. That guy's enchantments didn't impede you at all."

"Yeah." He kicked at the floor again. "I have to admit, I'm surprised to find an enchantress hiding in my own store."

I swallowed. Neither of us had said it yet, but Voids were also the overseers of the paranormal community. They couldn't be manipulated magically, which put them in the perfect position to supervise the rest of us. When a vampire started biting people or a shifter went rabid, the Void Union took care of it. Most importantly, they watched for enchanters or enchantresses who abused their powers and created new magical beings like the one lying on the tile before me. Not every region had a Union, but the San Francisco Bay Area's large population had attracted a number of paranormals. Our Union was the third most powerful in the country. The Union was also the reason I'd chosen to live here. Other enchanters were unlikely to come looking for me where their activities would be noticed.

Desmond crouched beside me and surveyed the twitching man. "Can you fix him?"

"No. The enchantments clashed and drove him insane. His mind is gone. It's a miracle he was even able to walk."

"Do you know who did this to him?"

"No," I said, too quickly.

Alarm flashed in his brown eyes. "Did you do this to him?"

"No!" I pushed myself to my feet. "I don't enchant people."

"But you know enchanters who do."

I couldn't answer that. Desmond examined the man's tattoos. "They're thick. There's a lot of magic bound up in them."

"He kept asking for a drink," I said quietly. "I think the fire was burning him up inside."

"Poor bastard."

Kendall ran up to us, tucking her loose tank top into her cargo pants. "What the hell, you guys?"

Desmond studied her as she finished arranging her clothes. "Shifter?"

She paused, then lifted the hem of her shirt to expose a circular birthmark formed by a single unbroken line, similar in style to the tattoos on the man's face. "Squirrel," she said.

"Figures."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Desmond rose. "I need to report this to the Union."

Kendall's eyes went wide. "Wait, Union, as in—"

"He's a Void," I said. "Seems all of us were keeping secrets."

"They're going to want to talk to us," Desmond said. "Especially you, Adrienne. A rogue enchantress is a big problem."

"I'm not rogue."

"Then why hasn't anyone told me about you? Do you have a Union contact? Have you done your monthly check-ins?"

My gaze dropped to the ground.

"Thought not."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, check-ins?" asked Kendall. "My parents pay Union protection fees and we obey all those stupid Union rules, but since when do we have to do check-ins?"

Desmond shook his head. "Not you. Just enchanters. And the rules aren't stupid. They're there to protect you. The Union means well."

"Yeah, good intentions have _never_ led to anything bad. Ever."

"I wasn't trying to lie to you," I blurted. "I didn't know what you were, Desmond. If I had—"

"You'd have told me?"

"Yes."

"I'm not sure I believe you."

The mistrust in his voice stabbed me in the chest. "I do know people who would do something like this, but it can't have been them."

Desmond crossed his arms and waited.

I took a deep breath. "I was raised by a cult of enchanters on the east coast. They were fleshwriters."

"Fleshwriters. What are fleshwriters?" asked Kendall.

Desmond shot her a look. "You knew all this time she was an enchantress, but you don't know that?"

Kendall shrugged. "Adrienne said she was hiding from some bad people, and that was enough for me. Mom and Dad wouldn't tell us much about enchanters. Said the Voids would keep them away, so we didn't need to know."

Desmond grimaced. "Our defenses aren't perfect. They should have told you, if only so you'd know when to run. Enchanters need to channel the magic that collects around them. Otherwise it drives them insane."

"Most of us channel it into objects," I said. "Talismans, charms, wards, that sort of thing. But some enchanters store the magic on their own bodies. Magic stored that way imprints on the skin, looking like a circular tattoo patterned from a single line."

Kendall's eyes darted to the unconscious man. She brushed a finger against her birthmark.

"Enchanting requires three things: a target, a channel, and a focus. The focus shapes the nature of the enchantment, the target receives it, and the channel binds them together." I remembered the enchantment I wove for Mrs. Jacinta: wind chime as target, money as focus, and soft leather as channel. "Using three different materials makes the enchantment safer, easier to control. But fleshwriters use their own bodies as all three."

"Why would anyone do that?" asked Kendall.

"Power," said Desmond. "If you give someone a choice between making a weapon and becoming a weapon, many don't mind the added risk."

"You can also store more magic in living enchantments," I said. "It's dangerous. Only the most skilled fleshwriters survive to old age. Many of them end up like this guy."

Desmond surveyed the unconscious man. "So which cult of fleshwriters did he come from?"

"He's not a fleshwriter," I said.

"You just said—"

"Enchantments don't last forever. Most of them run out of power if they're used too often. I just used up a water ring I'd been storing for ages. And we can't control when more magic will come to us, or how much will be available. So when a fleshwriter wants to keep lots of magic available to use but can't store it all himself ..."

Desmond's frown deepened. "He would store it in someone else. This man was used like a battery."

"More like a fuse."

"No, a capacitor," said Kendall.

"Judging by the number of enchantments on him," I said, "we're looking for someone with a lot of magic. And ... there might be other victims."

Desmond blew out a slow breath. "All right. I'm calling the Union." He headed for the store office in the back.

"Please don't tell them about me," I said. My voice sounded hoarse. For all I knew, he'd been going around executing enchanters after the store closed each night. "Please. Let me draw one of the enchantments out of him. Magic retains an imprint of how it's been used. There might be clues that tell us who did this to him, and where. At least let me try to find them, to prove to the Union I'm not a threat."

Desmond paused with his hand on the doorknob. "You said you were raised by fleshwriters. Do you have enchantments on your body?"

I hesitated. Memories tried to claw into my consciousness, but I locked them away with the ease of long practice. "None that I put there."

Desmond's eyes widened. He glanced between me and the poor man twitching on the floor. "Let me call in," he said. "Then we'll try to track down the monster who did this."

# Chapter 4

DESMOND WAS ONLY on the phone for a minute. I heard his side of the conversation, and to my eternal gratitude, he didn't report me. He returned a moment later with his keys. He locked the front glass door and flipped the hand-painted sign from open to closed.

"They want us to leave so they can move him without witnesses. They'll also take care of hiding the gun. They'll probably want to talk to me later, but I left you two out of it. We have about twenty minutes until they get here. What do you need?" he asked me.

"I won't know until I get the magic out." I took a deep breath, then placed my hand on the tattoo over the man's left temple. His chest rose and fell, but he was deeply unconscious. I wasn't sure what the Void Union would do with him, but I hoped they would be able to at least make him comfortable. For my part, I could try to figure out who'd done this to him. Removing one of his enchantments probably wouldn't fix his condition, but there also wasn't much more harm it could do. I breathed in, drawing the magic out of him. The markings on his skin began to recede, shrinking until they vanished into my hand.

Magic filled my mind, thrashing and burning. I'd picked his fire enchantment. This magic had not been channeled well; it was smears of paint on unsanded wood, buttons glued haphazardly on tattered fabric. No artistry, none of the care I put into my own work.

"Wow," said Kendall, her voice distant. "Can she do that with any magic?"

"Yes," said Desmond.

"Even mine?"

"It would probably break your brain."

"Too late for that," Kendall said cheerfully.

I blocked out their banter and probed the magic with my thoughts, feeling it for any imprints of where it had been channeled, what environment had birthed it. Flashes came to me: a strand of hay. A horseshoe. Smooth water. Dilapidated wooden sign. Chipped paint on a metal letter K.

The magic started to ache in me. I had to find a safe way to store it, quickly. It was wild, tempestuous. It needed a solid enchantment to hold it, or it would overwhelm the materials and destroy them. Then the magic would follow me, pressing on me until I figured out what to do with it, or it drove me crazy. "Get me a hammer, a coil of steel wire, and a weight."

Kendall ran off for the beading section, but Desmond hesitated. "A weight?"

"One of the ones you have in the woodshop, to hold your projects down. The heavier the better."

When they brought me the items, I set the weight on the tile floor. I placed the hammer atop it, then wrapped the wire tightly around both, binding them together. I took a deep breath, planned my words, and chanted them in my mind.

Be strengthened. Be firm. Be unyielding. Be contained.

I guided the magic into the weight, swirled it around in the metal's stability and strength, then channeled it through the wire into the hammer. It resisted my guidance, trying to break free and continue to batter me, but I repeated my enchantment, my thoughts rigid. Finally the last of the magic allowed itself to be channeled. I sighed in relief as the pressure in my head eased. Fatigue washed over me, and I braced my palm on the floor to keep from falling over.

"What'd you make?" Kendall whispered.

The wood grain on the hammer's handle was now a deeper shade of brown. It looked completely natural; if I wasn't touching the hammer and feeling the magic pulsing in it, I wouldn't know the dark grain was a mark of enchantment. I untied the hammer and handed it to Desmond. "I made it unbreakable. No matter what you do with it, it should never crack or dent. But the magic was angry. I think the hammer will always hit a little harder than you want it to. If we give it a month and I draw the magic out again, I might be able to tame it further, but ..."

"No, you've done enough," said Desmond. He took the hammer, his brow lined with concern. "Are you okay?"

My eyelids wanted to droop, but I pushed my weariness aside. There was too much to do. "I'm fine. And I think I can find where this man was enchanted."

Online research, courtesy of Kendall, led us to images that matched those I'd seen in the vision, pictures from a real estate listing out in the far suburbs. We piled into Desmond's ten-year-old Subaru SUV for the drive inland. I was already wearing jeans and a shirt so spattered with paint it had become its own pattern, but I used a ribbon scrap from the store to tie back my long black hair. Desmond was likewise prepared for mud, and Kendall's dark cargo pants and white t-shirt weren't going to matter, since she'd be in her animal form.

Just as I was about to pull the car door shut, I caught a flash of movement from the alley between Crafter's Haven and the neighboring pet shop. I squinted, itching to draw my sensory ring and use it to see further.

"Yo," said Kendall. "Let's go, slowpoke."

I shook my head and slammed the door, then reached for my seatbelt. "I thought I saw something."

"With specificity like that, you should be a doctor."

I rolled my eyes. "It looked like an animal."

"Probably just a stray cat," said Desmond. "People drop them off outside the pet shop."

"Yeah," I said. "Probably." But I couldn't shake the feeling that whatever I was watching had been watching me right back.

Desmond hopped on the freeway and headed away from the city. If we'd been coming from San Francisco proper, it would have taken ages, but the shop was part of the sprawl around the urban center, so we made better time. In fifteen minutes we left behind the larger suburbs and began passing through dry amber hills interspersed with towns.

"You guys owe me lunch," said Kendall. "I'm supposed to be preparing for finals."

"Since when do you study?" I asked.

Kendall scoffed. "I may be brilliant, but even I have to brush up on some things. Software engineers don't grow on trees, you know."

"Squirrels do."

"Shut up."

We pulled off the freeway onto a local highway heading out into the countryside. Soon we entered the middle of nowhere, passing a farm gate here, a ranch house there. Pastures flanked us on both sides, and the road could qualify as two lanes if you were being polite.

"There it is," I said as the next ranch came into view. I recognized the peeling paint on the wooden fence and the rusty metal K hanging on the gate from the images I'd seen in the magic. A dirt road led toward a big stable and a ranch house, far back from the road across acres of overgrown grass. A faded For Sale sign clung to a bent metal post in the dirt.

"Nobody home," said Desmond. He kicked the ancient For Sale sign. "Not for a long time."

"Not legally, anyway," I said. I glanced into the backseat at Kendall. "They won't know you're a shifter unless they touch you. So even if you're seen, don't panic. We just need to know if there's any sign that someone is squatting in the buildings. Sleeping bags, canned food, that sort of thing."

"Understood," Kendall said. She opened the car door and glanced at Desmond. "By the way, my rent's due next week. I'm still getting paid for today, right?"

Before he could answer, she laughed and shifted, shrinking in the time it takes to gasp. Her clothes fell in a pile of zippers and canvas, and her dangly dagger earrings clinked softly on top. A moment later, a russet-red squirrel wriggled out of her clothes. She twitched her ears at us, then hopped out onto the dirt path.

We watched Kendall scamper through the fence and disappear in the tall grass. I fought the uneasy fingers clawing at my gut. "How long do we have before the Void Union wants to talk to you?"

Desmond shrugged. "Tomorrow they'll probably show up at the store."

"You don't know for sure?"

"Honestly, I don't have a lot of business with the Union anymore. Every Void gets a visit from them when they're discovered. They give us a number to call, send us monthly emails, make us attend annual trainings."

"Training, like fighting?"

"Some. Mostly it's about how to recognize signs of supernatural activity, what's normal and what's not. I wouldn't go, but ..."

"It's required."

"And they put us up in nice hotels and provide free food. They have a bunch of full-time employees, but they only call people like me when there's a threat that requires extra help."

"The Volunteer Monster Brigade?"

"Something like that. They like me because of the swordsmanship and hand-to-hand training, since plenty of supernatural things can stop bullets."

"Plus you're a strong Void."

"Yeah. That, too." He fidgeted with the steering wheel. "I used to be more involved with them, but I've been keeping my distance lately. I haven't been a serious part of the Union for years. Since before we met."

"What happened?"

"Stuff I'd rather not get into right now. Just know that in the last few years, I've only helped them on half a dozen or so raids, and never against an enchanter." He shifted in his seat so he faced me. "I know you probably don't trust me anymore."

I laughed before I realized he wasn't joking. "I don't trust you? What about you trusting me? You just found out I'm the enemy. For all I know, you're just keeping me around so you can turn me in later."

A wounded expression crossed his face. "Do you really think I could hide something like that? You're the one always telling me I can't keep secrets."

I paused. "That's true. But we're still on opposite sides."

"You said you don't enchant other people."

"I don't."

"Then you're not the enemy." He started to speak, then stopped, his expression guarded. The brown skin of his ears flushed. "I just ... I hope this doesn't change things between us. I like having your shop in my store. I don't want you to think you have to relocate."

His eyes were earnest, his hands fidgeting in his lap. He licked his lips, and I found myself staring at the moisture left by his tongue. I wanted to lean closer, to brush those lips with my own, to show him that things hadn't changed rather than fumble with clumsy words.

No. He wanted to stay friends. He'd just found out I wasn't who he thought. This wasn't the time to push for more. I couldn't risk scaring him away.

Looking around for escape, I spotted something on the side of the road, and excitement overtook my unease. "Ooh," I said and hopped out of the car.

"What?" asked Desmond. "Did you find a clue?"

I returned a moment later with a rusty horseshoe clutched in hand. I grinned and showed it to him. "Finders keepers."

He studied the metal and gave an approving nod. "Not bad. What are you going to make out of it?"

"I don't know yet."

"I'll give you five bucks for it."

"You want it for some project?"

"It would look nice on the cabinet I'm making right now."

I scoffed. "You're just gonna stick a nail in and slap it onto something? Clumsy, clumsy. When will you learn to do real art?"

"You know they used nails and slapped it on the horse's hoof, right? I'm maintaining the original ambiance."

Again we tried to glare at each other. This time he broke first, and his laugh infected my own. _See,_ I thought, _this is good._ No need to make things complicated.

Just as our laughter faded, movement down the dirt road caught my eye. A cloud of dust rose from the ground, moving toward us. I frowned and opened my door. Nothing sounded out of the ordinary. I dug into my purse, a broad pleather handbag I'd sewn myself with lots of little dividers and pockets. I fished out my sensory ring and slipped it on. Six rhinestones glittered in the sunlight, alternating green and white. One for each enchantment on the gold band.

Immediately the world slowed. My senses heightened. Wind rushed by the car, roaring like thunder. Beneath its passing, I could make out growls and squeals and animal shrieks. Mingled with the aromas of hay and grass I caught a whiff of fear.

Down the dirt road, the dust cloud was expanding. Through its slow movements, I spotted a small red shape sprinting toward the car. Behind, obscured in a veil of dust, followed a silhouette with claws.

I pulled the ring off and dug frantically into my purse. "Grab a weapon," I warned Desmond. "A shitstorm is heading our way."

# Chapter 5

WE CHARGED UP THE ROAD, battle-ready. I wore the maximum number of enchanted items I could handle at once: two rings, two bracelets, a necklace and an anklet, each endowed with a different ability. In my pockets I had another half dozen rings and two more necklaces in case I needed them. Desmond had drawn a full-sized longsword from the RenFaire gear he kept in his trunk, and he'd shucked his denim jacket to reveal a pocket knife strapped to his belt.

Kendall bounded toward us, muscular hind legs propelling her forward. Her eyes were wide with fear, her fur standing on end. Her tail streamed behind her like a pennant.

The creature chasing her could only be described as a monster.

It was vaguely dog-shaped, but its head lolled to one side. Its pointy ears were a disturbing blend of human and canine, as if someone had lengthened the pink flesh by dangling a man from the rafters. The dog-thing's eyes were crazed, as mad as the man who attacked us at Crafter's Haven.

I aimed one of my rings at it and was about to activate an enchantment when movement in the overgrown field grabbed my attention. Another dog-thing was careening through the grass, aiming to cut Kendall off just before she reached us. I glanced to the other side, to see a third attacker closing in. Just how many of these things were there?

"Desmond, left!" I shouted, and broke off to intercept the one coming from the right. I just hoped Kendall could outrun the dog-man-thing on the road, because for the moment she was on her own. I aimed my ring at the monster barreling through the grass. The plain silver band glinted in the sunlight as I tapped its magic.

A baseball-sized fist of air formed around the ring and shot toward the approaching monster. It struck the shape in the grass, and I heard a yelp of pain. I was about to throw another punch of air when a familiar pressure buzzed along my skin. _Kadum, kadum, kadum!_

"Not now!" I cried. The dog monster in the road was closing on Kendall, and my attack had only slowed the one in the grass. I couldn't see what Desmond was doing, but I heard the scrape of steel on flesh, along with growls and a furious battle cry.

Magic swirled around me, burrowing under my fingernails and scratching in my ears. It was chaotic, unfocused, not concentrated like normal raw magic. I had to release it, now. I yanked my necklace off, activated its enchantment, and quickly tied it in a knot. I set it in the dirt next to the grass, then pulled out a strand of my own hair and laid it connecting the necklace and the edge of the field. _Be a knot,_ I chanted. _Bind what is within. Entangle, twist, snag._

It was a bad enchantment and a terrible focus, but the channel saved it. Human hair could handle a good amount of magic, though it wasn't very efficient. Unfortunately I overloaded the strand I'd laid out, and it promptly burst into flames. The necklace jumped as if I'd stuffed it with firecrackers, but most of the congealing magic made it through into the grassy field. The grass stems became a subtly brighter green. The overgrown blades and weeds began leaning toward each other, weaving lattices and tying knots. The monster I'd shot yelped again as plants snared its feet and bound themselves to its body.

Magic was still closing in on me, but I'd bought myself time to think. Kendall scrambled up my leg and onto my shoulder. The dog-thing leaped for us, mouth frothing, claws unsheathed.

I called up the enchantment in the thick copper bracelet on my left wrist. Magic sprang from it, taking solid form in the shape of a knife in my hand. I stabbed upward as the beast tackled me, driving the point into its chest. It howled in pain, thrashing to get its teeth around my neck. Kendall made a terrified chittering noise and half-lurched forward, as if trying to psych herself up to fight back. "Flight, not fight, Kendall!" I shouted. "Dogs eat squirrels, you idiot!"

Needing no more encouragement, Kendall leaped off my shoulder and dashed toward the car. The dog-thing lunged at me again, throwing its heavy shoulder against my stomach. Its jaws snapped toward my arm. We fell together in a tangle of limbs and fur. The creature landed on top of me, and I called the enchantment in my other bracelet to enhance my strength and push the beast off.

Dagger still in hand, I activated my air ring and threw several punches at the beast. They struck it in the nose, disorienting it. Before I could drive it off, though, the ring ran out of magic. The dog-thing lunged blindly for me, and I tapped my other ring, this one a thin wire braid woven with lavender beads.

A shield of pale purple light formed between me and the beast. The monster crashed against it and crumpled like water breaking on a wall.

Behind me, the creature in the grass loosed itself from my trap and made it to the edge of the field. This one was similar to the first, except its fur was blond and its ears fully canine. Its deformed shoulders hunched in a lump on its back.

It stepped over my tangled necklace and triggered the enchantment I'd activated. The silver chain and crystal pendant jumped from the ground, latching onto the creature's bleeding nose. In theory the magic was supposed to stop blood loss from wounds, but for the monster the sudden pressure closing on its snout felt like an attack. It snarled and spun in a circle, trying to free itself from its metal symbiont.

The monster with the tall ears continued battering my shield, getting closer to breaking it with every second. I dug the sensory ring from my pocket and slipped it on, discarding my spent air ring in the process. Instantly the dog-thing's movements slowed. I timed his attack, then dropped my shield and ducked in with another stab of the enchanted dagger. This one struck home, burying itself in his ribs. The monster thrashed away, ripping the dagger from my hand. The blade evaporated instantly in a puff of mist. The monster fell, dead.

I stood panting, proud, until the weight of the magic I'd been holding back crashed in on me. I fell to my knees, overwhelmed by the waves of pain pounding my skull, my fingers, my toes. This magic was anarchy, chaos, uncertainty. It wanted to be shaped, craved form and direction. It needed those things, like a starving man needs bread.

My sight blurred, and I reached out, fumbling in the dirt. My fingers closed on a fistful of writhing fur. Beneath it I felt a deformed lump, a mass of flesh atop canine shoulders—the second dog-thing, still fighting with my enchanted necklace.

I had no other options. Ignoring the spasms of the monster, I shoved my other hand in the rocky gravel road. Some of the pebbles pushed their way up my sleeve, tickling my wrist. I sent the oppressive magic into the rocks, then up one paint-spattered shirt sleeve and down the other into the dog-thing. _Be still as stone,_ I chanted. _Be serene as a boulder. Struggle no more than a mountain fights against the winds of time._

Power surged around me, flowing into the beast. The creature stiffened under my touch as the new enchantment took hold. As my vision started to clear, I saw a new black line curving and tracing a circular pattern on its hunched shoulders.

The magic finished flowing. The entire storm of power dispersed at once. My skull lightened, freed from the burden that had threatened to crush me. The dog monster stood still, seemingly relaxed, and for a moment I felt relief that my makeshift enchantment hadn't hurt it, had in fact helped calm it down. Then I realized why it wasn't moving. Its eyes roamed wildly, and tiny, panicked breaths puffed its chest in and out.

I'd done more than calm it. I'd paralyzed it.

Feeling sick, I retrieved my necklace from the creature's nose, deactivating its enchantment so the silver chain went limp. I looked back up the road. Desmond was wading out of the grass, his sword slick with blood. Kendall had reached the car, and was now climbing out of the backseat in her clothes once more.

There was no way to hide what I'd done. Desmond would see it. I stared at the new tattoo line on the frozen dog-thing's hump. My gaze traced it to the network of other tattoos winding from the creature's temples, down his chest and along his legs.

I'd enchanted a human. Whether he was under previous enchantments or not, that was a crime. And as a member of the Void Union, Desmond was supposed to kill me.

# Chapter 6

DESMOND PULLED A CLOTH from his jeans pocket and rubbed it along his sword, cleaning the blade of blood. I watched him, my heart in my throat, awaiting the inevitable. Maybe he wouldn't notice that I'd enchanted a person. Or maybe he'd notice, but wouldn't care. After all, the dog-thing had been about to kill me, and was already insane from the other enchantments on him. One more wouldn't have hurt him any further.

Right. Maybe I should ask the Union to send me a thank-you card and flowers, too.

Kendall eyed Desmond's sword. "You do this often?"

"What?" he asked.

"Killing paranormals."

He paused, his eyes troubled. "I wouldn't say often."

"But this isn't the first time," I said. Gulp.

He sighed and sheathed the blade. "What are these things? They used to be human, I put together that much. But they don't look like any shifters I've ever seen."

"They aren't," I said. The tension in my chest loosened. Could I really be this lucky? I pointed to the enchantment tattoos covering the dead dog-thing's chest. "See how there are several different lines? Each of those is an enchantment."

Desmond let out a low whistle. "He was under as many as the fire breather from the store."

"More. Layering enchantments like this is delicate work. Each one requires more magic, which increases the chance of messing up, plus it has to harmonize with whatever enchantments are already there." I fingered my sensory ring in my pocket. "The most I've ever managed on one object was six, and those were all very similar enchantments. This guy had the wolf-shifting one, plus it looks like one that tried to make him stronger—hence the deformed muscles. And there are several more here that I wouldn't be able to identify unless I took their magic out. If I had to guess, the shifting enchantment was first, and that's the one that stole his mind."

"Why's that?"

"Most people who seek enchantment want something flashy. In the cult that raised me, Seekers most often came to us asking for shifting charms. But they're ridiculously difficult. If I wanted to do one, I'd need to use an entire, living animal as the focus. Even then, it might not go right."

"You're saying the enchanter we're hunting has a live wolf stashed somewhere?" asked Kendall, a hitch in her voice.

"No. If they'd used a proper focus, this shifter would have at least looked like a wolf, even if it still lost its mind."

"He," said Desmond quietly. "Whatever they are now, they were people once."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean ... if I could have saved them ..."

"I killed one, too. It had to be done. But we can at least respect the dead."

I nodded, then continued more somberly. "I think our enchanter did this to them by fleshwriting. The enchanter used their own thoughts as the focus and their own body as the channel. For that to work, an enchanter needs an encyclopedic understanding of both human anatomy and the anatomy of the animal the shifter wants to become. Otherwise it goes wrong."

"Like this?" asked Kendall.

"Like this.

"What's this enchantment here?" Desmond pointed to the upright dog-thing, to my enchantment on its deformed hump. "It's all by itself. The others are in clusters."

Shit. "Um ... " The hand in my pocket ached to don a ring, something protective, but why bother? Magical attacks wouldn't affect Desmond, and he'd be able to walk right through my defensive enchantments like they weren't there. The only enchantments that worked against Voids were those that reshaped a person's physical form, like shifting enchantments. And as I'd just explained, they were notoriously difficult to get right. I wouldn't risk something like that unless I was lethally desperate.

Nothing to do but plunge in. "I did that," I admitted. "He was already insane. It didn't do any more damage."

Desmond stared at me. His hand crept toward his sword. "You enchanted a person."

"Yo, you basically said they no longer qualify as people," said Kendall.

"Whoever did this to them was sloppy," I said. "A lot of the magic bled out and stayed here. It all bombarded me. I had to channel it."

"Into a person," said Desmond.

"So what?" asked Kendall. "It was self-defense. They were going to kill us. You saw them chasing me. And there's more of them in the stable."

We both whirled on her. "More?" Desmond drew his sword. I jumped, grabbing rings from my pocket, for all the good they'd do.

But Desmond didn't attack me. "We'll talk about this later," he said, heading toward the stable. "Come on. You're the one who's familiar with these fleshwriters."

"If it's all the same to you guys," said Kendall, "I'm going to wait in the car. One near-death experience per day is my limit. Besides, you don't want some idiot squirrel getting in the way." The quirk to her mouth told me she wasn't actually offended, but she did lope back to the Subaru. At least she'd be safe. A warrior, Kendall was not.

I trotted after Desmond. "I'm not _familiar_ with the fleshwriters."

"You said you were raised by a cult."

"I was. But they aren't behind this." Saying it out loud brought a wash of relief. But it was true. After seeing the sloppiness of the enchantments on the dog-men, I knew for sure my former family hadn't found me. "The fleshwriters in my cult were highly trained. They did very precise work. They would never have left residual magic floating around, like the magic that bombarded me here. And they wouldn't have caused the deformities and insanity. It can't be them."

Desmond grunted. "Just tell me this: Have you ever put an enchantment on a person before? Yourself or anyone else?"

The question startled me. I fumbled for a lie, but my heart wasn't in it. I could weave a convincing deception with the best of them, but outright dishonesty never sat right with me. Call it a product of my childhood.

Desmond stopped and gave me an appraising stare.

"I was young," I finally said. "I didn't understand what I was doing. More magic collects around me than around the average enchantress. The cult used that, had me channel it into other members so they could use it later. It's how I learned to use my power."

"Other members? People who consented to being enchanted?"

I swallowed hard. "I'm not sure. It's possible some of them were Seekers who wanted magical abilities. But knowing what I know about the cult now ... I would guess some of the enchanted were vessels, like these people."

"Vessels." The word sounded foul on his tongue.

"Their word, not mine."

"Why you?"

"Why me what?"

"Why is the magic attracted to you?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Some people can shoot three-pointers. Some people have perfect pitch. I have arcane forces that want to give me unlimited power and also kill me."

Desmond's face twisted in a strange expression. It took me a moment to recognize it. When I did, I realized he was laughing.

The sound came a moment later, his rich, throaty laugh dancing with the wind. "Three-pointers. You just compared enchanting to being good at basketball?"

His laugh released a lock inside me. Relief spilled through. I smiled. "I thought you were going to attack me. It was the best I could do."

He reached out and gently brushed my shoulder. "I'm sorry, Adrienne. My life as a Void ... it's never affected my real life before. I'm struggling with how to combine both worlds. But I like to think I know you. You would never hurt anyone on purpose."

His warm hand on my shoulder made my heart grow wings and flutter around my throat. "That means a lot." I pretended to brush hair out of my eyes, because dammit, I would not cry in front of him. "I'm just glad we're still friends."

His smile lost its luster. "I can't say what the Void Union will do about all this, but I'll try to keep you out of it."

"Th—thank you."

I wanted to grab his hand, keep him connected to me. I wanted to grab his neck, yank him down and kiss him. I did neither of those things. Instead I let him pull away, and I walked beside him as we continued toward the stables.

And I tried to ignore the _kadum, kadum_ skating on the edge of my senses.

# Chapter 7

HAY AND MANURE lingered in the air, coloring every breath. No horses remained, but the effects of long-term animal presence couldn't be erased. Open stalls faced us, with metal fencing fading from green to gray. The other ends of the stalls opened into the stable, which we entered through a large, chipped wooden door.

Inside, the musty scents grew even stronger. A wall of aging saddles, bridles, and other tack smelled strongly of leather. A pile of metal buckets and a stack of salt licks stood beside the wall, along with a shovel and rake. Staging props for the non-existent ranch buyers, I assumed. On our right, wooden half-doors led to the outdoor stalls. On our left stood a row of indoor stalls enclosed by full-size doors, wood on the bottom and metal bars on top.

These stalls were occupied.

"Holy crap," whispered Desmond.

Every stall had its barred window closed, sealing the occupants inside like a cell. The first cell was broken, the wooden bottom of its door splayed like a battering ram had felled it. This must have been where our dog-man-things came from. The next cell contained a creature that retained human shape but had scales covering her skin, and hair of long, silky seaweed. Her eyes were blind pools of white—the enchanter had taken her sight. The next cell held what had once been a litter of kittens but was now a herd of horned, bulbous fur-things with elongated teeth. Other former animals lurked in the shadows of the rest of the cells, though thankfully there were no more people.

We wandered back to the cell of the scaled woman, who sat in a basin of water, her knees tucked under her chin, her unseeing eyes staring at the wooden wall. "Who were they?" I whispered.

Desmond shook his head. "The Union has contacts with the SFPD. They'll be able to identify them, discretely. But I'd guess they're indigents. Homeless people. Drug addicts."

"Those who won't be missed." My gut tightened. "Those who don't have anyone to rescue them."

Desmond slanted his eyes toward me. "You okay?"

_Kadum ... kadum ..._ I shook my head. "Nothing about this is okay." I knelt on the ground and drew a circle in the dirt. "Get me one of those bridles, and the handle from one of the metal buckets."

"What are you doing?"

_Kadum. Kadum. Kadum._ "Just do it. Once I dispel the magic, I'll explain."

"There's more already?"

"This entire property is marinating in sloppy magic. I got rid of the power outside, but there's a little more in here."

"Are you okay to do this many enchantments in a row?"

"I'll live. But thanks for asking."

Desmond brought me the materials. I tied an intricate knot in the bridle straps, taking my time since the magic wasn't yet assaulting me. I laid it beside my dirt circle, then hooked one end of the wire bucket handle into the knot. I buried the other beneath the edge of my circle.

_Kadum. Kadum._ The magic wasn't strong enough, not for what I wanted to do. "I need the dog-thing. The one I froze out on the road."

Now Desmond frowned. "What are you going to do to him?"

"Nothing. I'm going to undo what I already did. The enchantment I put on him is still fresh. If I take it out again, it shouldn't hurt him any more than he's already been hurt."

I helped Desmond drag the enchanted dog-thing into the stable. We put him in one of the unoccupied stalls, checking that this one had an undamaged wooden wall. "We'll have to be quick," I told Desmond. He took up a position by the stall door and nodded. I took a deep breath, then placed my hand on the dog-thing's humped shoulders, over the enchantment tattoo I'd given him. I breathed in, and sucked the magic back out of him.

_KADUMKADUMKADUMKADUM._ Instantly my head was pounding. My pulse throbbed in every joint. I fought the urge to vomit. Propelling myself backward on unsteady limbs, I made it out the stall door just before the dog-thing lunged at me. Desmond slammed the door in its face, locking it inside its new cell. It howled and scrabbled at the door, but the wood held. For now, at least.

Desmond said something, but my mind couldn't process it. _KADUMKADUMKADUM,_ I stumbled back to my enchantment, felt the magic struggling to break loose, wanting to bind something once more.

I'd given it that purpose, and now I redoubled its goal. Holding my hands over the tangled bridle, metal wire, and dirt circle, I chanted. _Bind whoever steps into this circle. Hold them fast, in prison of air. Tie limbs, tie thoughts, restraining in sleep until I return and break this enchantment._

Magic swirled into the knotted bridle, soaking up its tortuous nature. It channeled through the solid, unyielding wire and into my dirt circle. The circle dug deeper into the ground. The drumming in my head ceased.

I sat back and admired my work. This was some of my strongest on-the-fly enchanting. The magic I'd used was already inclined toward what I wanted it to do, and the available materials lent themselves well to a firm construction. Slowly, careful not to trip the enchantment, I withdrew the bucket handle from the dirt and picked up the bridle.

Desmond stood near the cell, where the dog-thing was still protesting confinement. "What did you do?"

"Set a trap." I pointed to my circle. "Whoever enchanted these creatures is powerful. Magic must be throwing itself at him for him to make so many enchantments. But he's inexperienced. Probably a novice just starting to test his abilities. I'm guessing he won't know enough to look for circles that could hold enchantments."

"When he steps inside the circle, what happens?"

"In theory, it'll knock him out and hold him until I come release him."

"That's theory. What about in practice?"

I gave Desmond a scandalized look. "It won't kill him."

"That's not what I meant."

"I wouldn't do that."

"I know you wouldn't."

"Not unless there was no other—"

"Adrienne, just tell me what could go wrong with the enchantment."

I flushed. "Sorry. It's a sensitive topic."

"Someday you'll have to tell me what your cult did to you, to make you so nervous."

Yeah, no. That was not happening. Instead of answering, I said, "Best case scenario, the trap holds the enchanter captive and knocks him out. But depending on the magic he's already carrying on him, or the magic swirling around him in the air, it might only do one of those things. Or half of each."

"So it might just piss him off?"

"The magic was inclined toward what I wanted it to do. I think it should at least trap him in the circle until I come remove the enchantment."

"Are you planning to come back and check your trap each day, or is it going to let you know when it goes off?"

I shook my head. "Alerting and binding are two different things. I'll set another enchantment on the door to warn me if someone comes in."

"But the door alarm won't cripple him at all."

"No."

Desmond looked at me as if I was crazy. "You're planning to come here when an enchanter trips your alarm, with no way of knowing whether or not he's also tripped your trap."

"If you have a better idea, I'm a good listener."

He shook his head. "Can't we do something more normal?"

I put on a thoughtful look. "I do have a hot glue gun, a roll of twine, and some glitter in my purse."

"I said normal."

"For me, that is normal." I untied the bridle and hung it back on the wall. Then I slipped the wire handle back through its holes on the bucket. "This is the best I can do."

"Fine." Desmond's voice came from right behind me, and I jumped. He must have crossed the stable while I tidied up. His hand covered mine and gave it a squeeze. "But before you come here, you call me, okay? You're not confronting this guy alone."

If I were a poet, I'd have woven words that told him how my skin tingled and my chest spilled over with joy at his concern. But I was a crafter, so instead I just gave his hand a return squeeze and held it as we exited the stable.

We stepped through the cracked wooden door into midday sun, and I froze.

Three men and two women stood in a semicircle, surrounding us against the stable door. One of the men held Kendall, her hands bound behind her, her mouth gagged. The other four aimed gleaming handguns at Desmond and me.

"Not bad, Desoto," said a woman in camo pants and a black tank top that highlighted her abundant cleavage. "You've caught us an enchantress."

# Chapter 8

I DROPPED DESMOND'S HAND like it had burned me and backed toward the stable. My fingers itched to dig into my pockets in search of a weapon, but I knew better than to give them a reason to shoot me. Magic drummed lightly on my skin, reminding me that, should I need it, I had another weapon available. Not that it would help against a squad of Voids.

Desmond held perfectly still. "She's not my prisoner, Maribel."

The blonde woman looked me up and down. "She's small to be such a threat."

"I'm not that small," I said at the same time that Desmond said, "She's not a threat."

I wasn't sure whether to be touched or offended.

Maribel locked eyes with me. "You keep your hands visible. No sudden movements, no reaching into pockets. You act like you're about to use magic, and we shoot you. ¿ _Entiende, chica_?"

I raised an eyebrow. "You're not Latina, _gringa._ "

"I'm adopted."

Desmond took a step forward, hands still raised. "Look, this is a misunderstanding. Adrienne is helping me figure out who's enchanting people. She's not the one doing it."

"How do you know?" said Maribel.

Kendall had been rubbing her chin against her shoulder, loosening the gag. She finally got it off and said, "Yo, I'm not an enchantress or a threat, so can we maybe not hold me like this? You're squeezing so tight you'd crush me if I even tried to shift right now. I thought you people needed a warrant to arrest someone."

"They're not police," I said, eying Maribel coldly. "They don't need permission for anything."

Maribel sighed. "Let the shifter go."

The man holding Kendall unlocked her wrists, and she wasted no time in stomping over to stand with Desmond and me. The buckles and zippers on her cargo pants rattled with each step, and her boots crunched on the gravel drive. The Voids watched in silence, and when it became apparent none of us were going to attack, Maribel sighed and lowered her gun to aim at the ground. Her team followed suit, holstering their weapons, though Maribel kept hers in hand.

"What are you doing here, Desoto?" she asked. "We thought you'd be at home."

"Adrienne got a glimpse of where the magic on that gunman came from," said Desmond. "We came to check it out."

"Without backup?"

"I had backup." His voice was quiet, his head tilted toward me and Kendall.

Maribel huffed and finally holstered her gun. She stalked toward us, inspecting us one by one. Kendall drew herself to full height and crossed her arms, meeting Maribel's glare defiantly. For my part, I held still. Playing timid and unthreatening had worked for me in the past.

The blonde woman stopped and studied me. She frowned and reached toward my shoulder. "You're injured."

Instinct took over. I recoiled and pushed her arm away. "Don't touch me!"

Maribel's hand flew to her gun, but she didn't quite draw it. "Calm down, woman."

I fought to control my breathing, to act as if nothing was wrong. I couldn't let them see. If they saw my chest, they might understand. And word might get back to the wrong people. "I don't like to be touched," I said. "Hands off. Please."

Maribel rolled her eyes. She jerked her chin toward my shoulder. "You should get that looked at."

I glanced down. My arm was grazed with scrapes and bruises where I'd fallen on the gravel road. My paint-spatter shirt was smeared with dirt and the shoulder had ripped, revealing a purpling bruise. I raised a self-conscious hand toward my hair, which felt wild and loose, its ribbon lopsided. Heat crept into my cheeks. I looked a mess.

Maribel backed away from me and waved to her team. "We'll leave a guard here until the enchanter shows up."

"That's not necessary," I said. "In fact, it might scare him off."

"And what do you suggest, then, witch?"

"Language," Kendall muttered.

I raised my chin. "Before you courageously ambushed us, I set a trap inside the barn. I was about to enchant the door to let me know when someone comes in."

Maribel signaled one of her men toward the stable. "Go inspect what she did."

I didn't bother telling him what to look for. If he couldn't find it, he deserved to get caught. Maybe I'd leave him in the trap while I set up another one. A moment later the guard returned. "Got a bunch of enchanted creatures in there. Two human. A rabid dog-man and what looks like a failed merwoman."

Maribel's eyes blazed at me, as if her gaze could burn me alive. "And the alleged trap?"

The guard gave me a grudging nod. "She was telling the truth. It's there, and it's subtle. Be hard to see in the dark."

"Adrienne is on our side," said Desmond.

Kendall cleared her throat. "So is Kendall, FYI."

"Her enchantments give us the best chance of catching this guy, before he hurts anyone else." Desmond's eyes were dark gems, glinting gold in the waning sun that turned his light brown skin to amber. His teeth flashed as he put on a smile. "That's the goal, isn't it? Protect the innocent from the things in the dark?"

Maribel stared at Desmond for a long while before she ground her teeth and turned away. "A Void is vouching for you, Enchantress. Don't make him regret it." She studied the ranchland sprawling out around us. "We'll leave a sentry there, in the field. He won't be seen, and he can alert the Union if someone manages to get past the enchantments." She glanced at me over her shoulder. "We wouldn't want this criminal to clean up after herself and disappear, would we?"

Nothing I could say would convince her I was innocent, so I stayed silent.

Kendall said, "Do you get vertigo riding a horse so high?"

I'd have to slug her for that later. And then buy her lunch.

The squad of Voids began to leave. Maribel launched one last parting shot. "Don't return here without Void supervision, Enchantress. Our sentry might get the wrong impression. It'd be unfortunate if a misunderstanding led to your death."

"Yeah, your face is unfo—" began Kendall.

Never mind. I slugged her now.

The Voids retreated down the dirt driveway. Halfway to the main road, one of them broke off and loped into the field, crouching to hide in the tall grass. In seconds I lost track of him. The others began dragging the dog-thing corpses into the field, where they'd be out of sight.

Tension bled out of me, and I sighed in relief. Kendall and Desmond seemed to relax, too. "I'm sorry," said Desmond. "The Hunters who work full time for the Union can be a little ..."

"Douchey?" offered Kendall.

"Sure, that works."

"It's fine," I said, rolling my shoulders to relax them. "They didn't shoot me. That's really all I want out of a Void encounter."

A second later I realized what I'd said, and I turned in time to see Desmond's face fall. "I didn't mean that," I said. "Not about you."

"It's fine," he said. He started walking down the road. "I'll go help them bury the bodies. Set up your alarm. Then we can all go home."

Cursing myself, I watched him go.

Kendall looked at me. "Aren't you gonna—"

"No." I turned to the stable door. "No, it's better this way. I wasn't willing to take a chance with him as a normal. That goes double now. It's too risky."

"Some risks are worth it, girl," said Kendall quietly.

I pretended I didn't hear as I studied the door, deciding what to use as focus and channel, and trying to ignore how much my heart ached.

# Chapter 9

I WENT WITH A SET of horse reins as a channel and my cellphone as a focus. The enchantment, if it held, would make my phone vibrate when someone opened the stable door. Kendall tested it a few times, but there was no guarantee it would continue working long enough for our mystery enchanter to return. Just a chance we had to take.

Desmond drove us back to Crafter's Haven. We had to roll the windows down to combat the grass, dirt, and manure smells radiating off us. "The Union will make sure those prisoners have food and water, in case the enchanter takes his time coming back," Desmond said. "I suggest we all stay away until then. Everything needs to look normal, like we haven't discovered it."

"I know," I said softly. In the backseat, Kendall was being oddly quiet. No doubt to give me time to talk. I cleared my throat. "Desmond, I—"

"It's been a rough day," he said. His tone wasn't cold, but it wasn't exactly inviting either. "Let's all go home and get some sleep. We'll talk in the morning, Adrienne. I promise."

I sighed and decided that was probably for the best. I needed time to sort out my own feelings as well. Today changed things, not only between Desmond and me, but in my life in general. I wasn't yet sure what I wanted to do about it.

He dropped us in the parking lot. Kendall went to her beat-up tan pickup, its camper shell bedecked with bumper stickers. My comfy little sedan beckoned me from beneath the solitary streetlight in our part of the lot. The other end of the shopping center had two restaurants and a karaoke bar, and their lot was always packed at night, but Crafter's Haven and its neighbors, a mattress store and a pet shop, closed at nine.

I settled onto the plush striped seat cover I'd made for my car, welcoming the inviting fluffiness. Other personal touches marked the vehicle as mine. Embroidered headrests. Rows of art-related buttons on the rear deck. Bobble-head wizard on the dash. I shook off the worries of the day. I'd done what I could. No magic was currently pestering me. It was time to relax.

As I stuck the key in the ignition, I glanced in the rearview toward the alley adjoining the store. No sign of movement. My skin prickled anyway. _Calm down,_ I told myself. _Nothing is watching you._ I turned the key and felt the engine rumble to life. Music blasted out of the speakers, the drums and flutes of _cumbia_ music swallowing the car. A little yelp escaped me, and I scrambled to turn down the volume.

I was about to shift to drive when the clouds scudded aside and let a ray of pure moonlight bathe the alleyway entrance. A pair of amber eyes reflected there, marking me from the shadows. They receded instantly into the darkness, and clouds quickly cloaked the sky once more.

My heart thudded like a tambora drum in my chest. I breathed slowly, forcing myself to relax. _Just a cat,_ I reminded myself. _Desmond said strays get left here._ And the eyes did look feline. Yet I couldn't shake the feeling they were far too big and too high off the ground for any ordinary house tabby.

On the way home I picked up a fat burrito from my favorite taco stand and splurged on extra guacamole. The owner was an older Mexican man who gave everyone free cups of pineapple juice and teased me for ordering my food with no spiciness whatsoever. He'd tried to get me to speak Spanish with him, but after a few reluctant conversations he didn't press.

I carried the takeout bag and my purse up four flights to my apartment in the suburban sprawl. It was an efficiency unit—a polite way to say tiny—but it was home. Half the space was devoted to artwork and littered with half-finished canvases, wire sculptures, and random bits of junk I'd found on the side of the road and brought home to use as materials. I dropped the rusty horseshoe in one of the piles beside a bike chain I'd fished out of the neighbor's trash and an ugly Christmas sweater from a garage sale last spring.

Occupying the center of my worktable stood my current favorite item—half a tire, its edges cleanly severed. It hadn't spoken to me yet, but I suspected it would become the base of a bookshelf, or maybe an end table.

That was, if I stayed here.

Memories of my past rose up, engulfing me with as much force as the strongest magic. I quickly stamped them down, locked them away inside a mental closet I never opened. There were too many skeletons in there.

I stuffed my face with burrito, washed it down with two fingers of amaretto, and fell into bed determined not to dream.

My phone was buzzing. Blearily I swiped it from the nightstand and checked the time. Who the hell called at two am? And why was my phone on silent?

I sat bolt upright as I realized what was happening. My phone continued to vibrate, but showed no incoming calls. The trap. Someone had set it off.

With frantic movements I rushed to my dresser, trying to access speed dial at the same time. My toe struck the base of the dresser, and I yelped. Slow down, Adrienne. Don't kill yourself before you even get to the battle.

Finally I turned on a lamp and opened a drawer to fetch clean clothes. I called Kendall while I changed. When her phone went to voicemail, I sighed, but wasn't surprised. Kendall had once slept through her roommates doing some drunk cooking and setting the kitchen on fire. She only woke up when they shook her awake because the fire department told them to evacuate for an inspection.

Instead I called Desmond. His phone rang, and I finished donning jeans and my shoes before his voice spoke. "You've reached Desmond Desoto. If you're calling about a Crafter's Haven order, please instead call the store number at 415-470 ..."

A chill slid through my chest. Kendall not answering, I understood. But Desmond ignoring me, too? Something wasn't right.

Through all of it, my phone continued to vibrate. The stable door was still open.

Maribel's warning played through my head. If I went alone, I risked the Void Union killing me as a suspect. If I didn't go, I risked the real enchanter getting away. He might fall for one trap, but once he broke free of my enchanted circle, he'd disappear in a heartbeat.

It wasn't just about clearing my name. Yes, I wanted the Union to know I wasn't behind these attacks on normals, but enchantment was a beautiful art. I hated to see it desecrated like this. There were many injustices in the world that I couldn't fix with my magic. This was not one of them.

Gritting my teeth, I pulled a black sweatshirt over my head and headed for the door. Bright colors suited me better, but dark activities deserved dark attire.

I just hoped my choice kept the Void on guard duty from seeing me while I did the one thing I wasn't supposed to do.

On the drive to the farm I left messages for Desmond and Kendall. I also ate my burrito leftovers to quiet the nervous writhing in my stomach. Was I being a fool? What did I plan to do if the enchanter was loose when I arrived? My magic might be better channeled and controlled than his, but based on the bits of his power I'd seen, he was stronger. Not to mention that as a fleshwriter, his power would be stored on his body, while mine was kept in trinkets that had to be touching my skin before I could use them.

Moonlight barely illuminated the country road leading up to the ranch. There were no streetlights out here, and I killed my headlights a mile out. I parked on the side of the road and studied the overgrown fields, the open wooden gate, the metal K rusting on the entryway. No sign of movement. But a prickle in my skin told me that magic lingered nearby. It could be the normal ambient magic in the air. It could portend something worse.

Ten minutes crept by while I waited, checking my phone every few seconds to see if Desmond would call. He didn't. The vibrating had stopped during the drive over, indicating that the stable door had been closed. I didn't know if that meant the enchanter had left, or had shut himself inside for a long night's work.

Only one way to find out.

Before heading up the dirt and gravel driveway, I took some time to prepare. I couldn't just wear all of my enchantments at once. Each one weighed on me when it touched my skin, its magic clamoring to be loosed. It took concentration to use one without activating all the others. Six was the maximum I could keep track of at one time, and then only if they were stored on different parts of my body. One ring per hand, one bracelet per wrist, one necklace, and one other. I liked to use an anklet, but few enchantments were useful so close to the ground. Instead I settled on a hairclip, wearing a blend of offensive and defensive enchantments. The rest I left in my purse, which I zipped shut and slung over my shoulder. Then I ventured onto the ranch.

I kept low, using the tall grass as cover. Hopefully whoever the Union had stationed here wouldn't see me. If I was lucky, the sentry was already inside, holding the fleshwriter captive. Usually I had to make my own luck, but there was always hope.

My heart beat faster with every step I took. Past the field, past the posts for tying the horses, past the rusting water troughs. Past the open stalls, until I stood before the peeling wooden door of the stable. I took a deep breath and placed my hand on the door. My alarm enchantment was on the doorpost, not the door itself, so I didn't feel any magic in the wood.

I realized I was about to waltz straight into an unknown situation. _Stop, Adrienne. Think._ Straightforward confrontation was not my strong suit. There was a better option.

Abandoning the door, I crept over to the open-air stalls. I bent horizontal and slipped between the metal bars of fencing, then crawled forward until I was up against the wooden half-door separating the stall from the inside of the stable.

My breath sounded like thunder as I strained to hear beyond the door. Faint coughing came from inside, probably from one of the enchanted captives. Nothing else stirred. Either I'd missed the enchanter, or he was keeping quiet.

I checked my phone once more. Still no calls. If it started vibrating it might alert the enchanter, so I turned it fully off. With a deep breath, I pushed open the half-door, just wide enough to slip my slender frame through.

Inside I could barely see. Milky light snuck through cracks in the wood, but murk dominated. I fought to control my breathing, my steps, the rustle of my clothes. Creatures stirred inside the stalls, but I didn't hear anything in the main area. I crept forward, sliding my feet slowly, my hands out, testing the dark.

I guessed I was halfway down the stable when my toe struck something. A scream lodged in my throat and ballooned there, trying to escape. I swallowed hard and clamped my mouth shut. Kneeling, I felt the object. It was soft, but with some structure to it, like wood wrapped in a blanket. When no sound came for another minute, I decided to take a risk. I pulled my phone from my pocket, turned it on, and used the light to illuminate the ground in front of me.

My captive scream burst free and echoed around the wooden rafters.

It was a body.

Not just any body.

The body of the Void sentry left behind by Maribel.

I scrambled back, gasping for air. I'd seen corpses before, but never a human I'd seen alive just a few hours before. My heart stuttered against my ribs. Every muscle was taut, from my curled toes to my paralyzed tongue.

In the shadows on the far end of the stable, something moved.

Everything went still. The world seemed to halt for one terrified instant. Then instinct kicked in and I reached for my magic, tapping the shield enchantment on my lavender-beaded ring.

A wall of shimmering purple light appeared before my chest, just in time. A heartbeat later, a smoldering fireball flew from the inky shadows and splattered across my shield like a burst of fireflies.

"You're cornered!" I shouted with bravado I did not feel. "Whatever enchantments you're using, they aren't going to be enough. Give up and walk out into the light with your hands—"

A shadow sprinted from the corner, barreling toward me like a portion of the wall had detached and taken off. I moved to block the person, but my phone screen chose that moment to turn off and leave me sightless. Someone rushed past me, knocking me out of their way. I fell sideways in the dirt, though the blow wasn't as forceful as I'd expected. I rolled over just in time to see the stable door open. Dim moonlight filled the doorway, and I caught a glimpse of a human silhouette before it disappeared into the night.

Shaking, I pushed myself to my feet. I had no doubt I'd just encountered the enchanter behind all this. He was fast, much faster than me, but not as large as I'd expected. I wouldn't put his height and weight too much higher than mine. Maybe it wasn't a "he." Or maybe he was small.

I crossed to where I'd set my enchantment trap. My phone was vibrating again now that the stable door was open, and between the screen and the moon I saw the smudged edges of my dirt circle. Apparently the trap had worked. The enchanter had just managed to break out of it. That explained why the door had been left open for so long. He'd stepped in and been caught before he closed it. The Void sentry must have come after him and shut them both inside.

Unnerved, I returned to the dead sentry. No enchantments on his body, of course. As my eyes adjusted, I made out his cause of death. He'd fallen and hit his head on a jagged nail sticking from one of the rotting wall boards. I turned away from the gruesome sight.

With the enchanter fled, I needed to get out of here. The Void Union would probably be coming to find out why their sentry wasn't checking in, and I couldn't afford to be here when they arrived. Using my phone to avoid tripping, I headed for the door. It was only when I glanced at the lit screen that I realized I had a text from Desmond. It must have come in the last couple minutes, after my phone was already buzzing from the stable door alarm.

I opened the message and read:

Stay home, A. Let me take care of this. Just arrived at the ranch, Union meeting me there. Will let you know when we get the guy.

Oh, crap.

I darted out the open door and ran straight into a muscular chest.

# Chapter 10

"ADRIENNE?" Desmond's voice mingled shock and anger. "What the hell are you doing here?"

I pushed off of him and backed up several paces. "Why weren't you answering your phone?"

"I was driving. Our sentry reported someone coming to the ranch. After the warning Maribel gave, I wasn't expecting it to be you."

"It wasn't me. I just fought the enchanter off. He ran a minute before you arrived."

"Where's the sentry? He can back up your story."

Uh-oh. "He's dead."

Desmond stared at me. "You realize you're making this hard to believe."

"If I was lying, the story would be better."

He sighed and gestured to the open door. "After you."

The gesture seemed gentlemanly. But it also ensured he didn't have to turn his back on me.

We entered the stable and I showed Desmond the body of the sentry. "He must have struggled with the enchanter, then fallen and cracked his head."

"Wow," said a voice from the rafters. "That sucks."

I jumped out of my skin. Desmond swore. We both looked up to see Kendall perched on one of the wooden beams, stark naked.

Desmond stared for a couple startled seconds before suddenly jumping and averting his eyes. "I told you to stay in squirrel form," he said sharply.

"Wait," I said. "You brought her but not me? You asked _Kendall_ for help before me?"

"Kendall isn't a person of interest in the case."

"Kendall can't defend herself against enchantments!"

"Kendall can hear everything you're saying," Kendall remarked mildly. She swung down from the rafters and held out her hand. "Jacket, please."

I shrugged off my sweatshirt and handed it over. "You didn't answer my calls."

"I forgot my phone at home when Desmond picked me up."

"That's why we got here late," said Desmond with a scowl, still struggling not to stare at Kendall's exposed skin. "It took forever to wake her up."

Kendall managed to squeeze into my jacket, though it hugged her curves and looked like it might burst if she moved too fast. Desmond removed his own hoodie, revealing a form-fitting brown t-shirt underneath. Kendall tied his sweatshirt around her waist like a skirt, completing her makeshift outfit. "You can stop hiding your eyes, boss. Though I don't know why you wouldn't want to look."

"I don't date employees."

"Does that include Adrienne?"

"I'm not an employee," I said quickly. "I rent my shop space."

"This is not the time for this!" Desmond said, face flushed. With anger or embarrassment, I couldn't tell. "Adrienne, you're going to need to explain what you're doing here."

"I already did." My own temper kindled, flickering in my chest like a red candle teasing a curtain. "The alarm went off. I couldn't reach you or Kendall. I came here, found the body, and scared off the enchanter."

"That's not going to be good enough for the Union," Desmond growled.

"Hey," said Kendall, "why are you picking on her?"

"It looks like she murdered this guy!" Desmond pointed a trembling finger at the corpse.

Kendall looked from the body, to me, and back. "He has a point."

"I didn't kill him," I said, anger now burning bright. "For one thing, he's a Void. My magic wouldn't have worked against him."

"You could have fought him physically," said Desmond.

I crossed my arms, looked up at him, and waited.

He studied my petite size. "Okay, maybe not. But there are enchantments that work against us. Those that reshape a person, for instance. Turn them into a monster or an animal."

"I'm not a shifter," I said.

"Can you prove it?" He studied me closely. "Because the Union is going to ask. They're going to pry. If you have no enchantment tattoos on your body, they'll have to accept that you're innocent. But if there are any, even one ..."

My eyes burned, and I turned away, not wanting him to see my face.

He was quiet for a moment. "I thought so."

"It's not my fault," I said.

"The Union won't believe that."

"Do you?" I glanced over my shoulder. "Do you believe me, Desmond Desoto?"

He stared at me for a long moment, eyes full of unreadable emotion. Then he dropped his gaze. "I want to."

I swallowed. "Good enough." I marched to the ruined enchantment circle in the dirt and knelt beside it.

"What are you doing?" Kendall asked.

"You need proof that there's another enchanter around besides me. I'm finding him." I touched the circle, felt the tiny bit of magic left in it. Not enough to hold anyone, more like a single link from a broken chain. I drew the magic into me and let it sit.

Confusion. Frustration. Fear. Wildness, flailing against a wall.

"He was caught in the trap," I said. "It scared him."

A thirsty mouth, trying to suck dry a river.

I frowned. "He tried to undo the enchantment, to take the magic into himself."

"Did it work?" asked Desmond.

"No. The magic's nature was to hold him captive. He wouldn't have been able to reshape it, at least not far enough from its original purpose. It would have kept fighting to imprison him, maybe killed him from the inside." My frown deepened, as did my confusion. "The fact that he didn't know that means he's not an experienced enchanter. And he's definitely not with a fleshwriter cult. They would have taught him about this."

"So it's a rogue," said Desmond. "With new powers."

The magic kept swimming through my head, giving me impressions of its nature and experiences. Scratching, slashing, force battering against the trap. Pushing back, straining to hold, aching with each blow. Then a rush of power, a bolt of lightning punching through and ripping the cage to shreds.

"He overwhelmed it," I said. "Used his own magic to break through mine. That's why the trap magic is just floating around. He dispersed it."

"Is that hard?" Kendall asked.

"Enchanters work around other magics. We counter, or reshape. Raw force like this takes more magic than other strategies."

"So it's hard."

"If my enchantment was a candle, he used a tidal wave to put it out."

Kendall whistled. "Hella hard."

Desmond put a hand on my shoulder. "That's enough, Adrienne. Let it out."

"Just a moment." I clung to the magic a bit longer, though it was starting to chafe at me, aching to be channeled. I sifted through the impressions left on it, and caught a glimpse of an old stone cellar, dank and dark.

I quickly drew a smaller circle in the dirt and planted my foot next to it. I laid a stick across the knot in my bootlace and the edge of the circle, then focused the magic on the knot and channeled it through the stick. A much smaller version of my circle trap sprang into being as the magic surged out of me.

With a sigh, I sat back and watched a fly buzz into the circle, then immediately crash into the magical barrier that sprang up around it. Disoriented, the fly bashed against one side of the magic cylinder, then another.

"The magic that broke my enchantment came from a cellar," I said.

Kendall snickered. "Like, he kept it in a barrel?"

"I don't know. The rogue enchanter must have been carrying the magic with him, unchanneled, when he came here. But it came from a cellar."

"He can't have carried it far," said Desmond. "Not with the way magic starts grating on you when you're holding it."

I nodded. "Somewhere on this ranch is a buried cellar, and I'm guessing if we find it, we find our enchanter's lair."

# Chapter 11

"THIS LOOKS DANGEROUS," said Kendall. We stood before an open cellar, its wooden doors rotted down to the hinges. Spider webs clung to the stone, and an earthy graveyard scent wafted from below. Kendall had shifted to squirrel and climbed the tallest tree on the ranch. From that height she'd spotted this cellar door in the far corner of the ranch yard, in a place that would have taken us ages to find on foot. Desmond had returned to his car and fetched Kendall's own clothes while she climbed, so I had my jacket back to protect against the cool night.

A bit of magic drifted in the air, so I picked up a stone, set it in a patch of moonlight, and used a long blade of grass as a channel. In a moment I had a glowstone, radiating moonlight.

"Let's go," I said. I led the way down the crumbling stone stairs.

At the bottom my glowstone illuminated a cramped workshop. A big central table stood empty, but along the walls dilapidated shelves held piles of feathers and leaves and stones, coils of rope and chain. Battered books on animal and human anatomy were stacked on a rock in one corner. There were creepier things, too. A bird skeleton laid out on a dilapidated table, as if in mid-flight. A knot of human hair forming the tail of a miniature rocking horse. A vial of dark red liquid. Desmond studied that last one and gave me a troubled look. The fluid could very well be tomato juice, but judging from this enchanter's other materials, I doubted it. Stones had fallen out of the walls, leaving behind cavities backed by dirt. Kendall pursed her lips as she examined the walls. "This is so not earthquake safe," she muttered.

One of the crevices left by fallen chunks of rock was filled with an array of jewelry pieces—rings, bracelets, and necklaces. I held up my glowstone to study them, but didn't touch. Between two bracelets, a clean circle stood out on the rock, clear of dust. "There's one piece of jewelry missing," I said. "Probably a bracelet. Lots of other pieces still here. Our enchanter may be new, but he's learning fast."

"You said he has a ton of raw power," said Desmond. "Maybe he had to learn fast, to keep ahead of the magic channeling through him."

"Well?" asked Kendall. "Can you find him from all this?"

I shook my head. "I don't know. I was hoping there'd be something here. A notebook or diary, something we could use to track him down."

"How about this?" Kendall asked, and before I could stop her she picked up one of the bracelets.

"Stop!" Desmond and I cried at the same time. Kendall stood frozen, mouth partially open.

I forced myself to breathe evenly. "Do you feel anything?" I asked. "Anything weird? Sickness, dizziness, fire trying to burn its way out of your stomach?"

"Uh, no," said Kendall.

"Do you want to stab either of us?" asked Desmond. I shot him a look, and he gave me an apologetic shrug.

"Definitely not," said Kendall.

"Is sudden energy buzzing in your body?"

"That's what she said." Kendall snickered.

"This is serious, Kendall. You never know what might be carrying magic in an enchanter's shop."

Kendall's eyes widened. She gave the bracelet a wary look. "Can't you tell by looking at it?"

I shook my head. "Enchantments try to blend in. On inanimate objects, they're almost impossible to see."

Kendall shrugged. "Well, I feel fine."

I let out a shaky breath. "Don't pick up anything else."

"Understood, amiga." Kendall moved to set the bracelet back down.

"No, don't put it back!"

Her hand jerked to her chest. "What do you want me to do, then?"

"Just ... just hang onto that. The entire workshop might be enchanted against people leaving things here, to prevent surveillance. It's safer to keep the bracelet than to try and find a clean spot to set it down."

Kendall rolled her eyes and zipped the bracelet into one of her pockets.

My heart had just settled down into its proper spot when a thud from outside shot it into my throat again.

Instantly Desmond moved between us and the door. "Stay behind me."

I stepped up beside him, my shield arm raised. "No. This is my fight."

"Adrienne ..."

"I may be small, but in magic I'm a heavyweight. I've run from fleshwriters before. I'm not letting them chase me out of my new home, too."

Desmond eyed me with an emotion I couldn't pin down. Respect? Suspicion? Both? Maybe some affection, or was that just wishful thinking? I thrust thoughts of him out of my head, focusing on the doorway streaming cracks of moonlight. Though it was hard to concentrate with his warm form breathing deeply right next to me. The moonlight highlighted his tight abs beneath his t-shirt, and the way his jacket fell cast interesting shadows across his chest.

Focus, Adrienne. It's sweet that an attractive man wants to save you, but right now you have to save yourself.

A shadow fell across the opening to the outside. A huge figure loomed there, silhouetted in creamy moonlight. It spotted us on the stone floor below and let out an inhuman growl.

"Fleshwriter," said Desmond in a voice of practiced calm, "you're suspected of misusing your power. Surrender to us and explain yourself."

Another growl. The shape rose up, hackles of fur in sharp contrast to the starlit sky.

"Bear!" Kendall shrieked. "Who decides to be a bear in the middle of the Bay Area?"

The bear plunged into the workshop, taking the steps four at a time. His claws raked for Desmond's chest, but Desmond lithely sidestepped and swiped his sword across the beast's arm. It snarled and spun for him again, exposing its back to me. I nearly missed it in the shadows, but on its mid-back swirled the curling line of an enchantment tattoo.

I climbed onto a worktable, praying it wouldn't collapse, and slapped my hand against the tattoo.

Magic surged at me, and I pulled on it, trying to draw it out of the tattoo, to force the enchanted man to return to a human form. But it fought me, skittering out of my reach, then charging and assaulting my mind. I couldn't keep hold of it, and each attempt to do so sent a migraine wave of pain through my skull.

Something struck me in the side and threw me off the table. I crashed against the stone wall. Stars swam before my eyes.

Snarls and a cry of pain snapped the world back into focus. Desmond was backed against a wall, his sword weaving intricate patterns to fend off the bear. But the creature was monstrous, and it towered over him. He looked like an ant trying to fend off a tarantula with a toothpick.

Kendall wasn't visible, and I guessed she'd gone squirrel. I crawled to where my purse had fallen and dug into the little pockets lining the inside. My gold sensory ring was in the top right pocket, easily accessible. I yanked one of my current rings off and jammed the sensory ring onto my finger just as the bear tried once more to maul Desmond.

Time slowed, sliding past like honey dripping down a plate. Bear musk and human sweat assaulted my nostrils. I gagged, the heaving of my stomach happening in laborious detail. Swallowing hard, I rounded the demolished worktable, each step an eternity. When I cleared the debris, I raised my arm, tapped the enchantment on a gunmetal grey bracelet, and prayed I wasn't about to blow up.

Tapping too many enchantments at once put a strain on my body. The sensory ring was six active enchantments already. The moment I accessed the bracelet's power, a burning began in my chest. Too much magic swirled through me, channeling itself into the world through my body and mind. I fought to keep the enchantments separate, to distinguish between my sensory ring and the ethereal automatic handgun I'd conjured. One was part of me, the other was a tool. A ring and a bracelet. On opposite hands. Two enchantments. Distinct. I pried them apart in my perceptions like untangling two strings.

The two magics finally parted in my thoughts, and I sensed them as individual powers. The sensory ring clung to my finger, making all my senses continue to tingle. The gun felt heavy in my hand as if it were real, though its wispy shape seemed formed of mist. With a deep breath, I pulled the trigger.

A regular bullet would probably feel like a bee sting to a creature this huge, but magic could pack a lot of power into a tiny blast. A magical projectile burst from the barrel and slammed into the bear's back. It screamed. I had no idea an animal could make a sound so wretched, so unnervingly human. The creature whirled on me, its eyes alight with pain and fury. I aimed the gun and spoke, my words crawling across my tongue and scraping through the time-slowed air. "Shift back, or die."

"Adrienne," said Desmond, his eyes widening in slow motion. "No!"

The bear snarled. I had a good ten seconds to stare at its teeth. Then, at a painstaking pace, it began to change. First its head shrank into its shoulders. Fur receded back into skin. Claws became nails, and the huge body reduced to a large, muscular man. I was thankful for the dim light. I didn't have to feel too awkward about his nakedness.

I waited until he was fully human, then pulled the sensory ring from my finger. I kept the conjured gun in hand.

Desmond moved carefully to flank the bear-man, cutting him off from the staircase. Moonlight glinted off Desmond's face, and I caught a sheen of red. He'd been scratched. If I hadn't already known, there was my proof that Voids weren't immune to shifter enchantments.

I took a deep breath to quiet my shuddering heart. My head felt like nails were rattling around inside it. With how much magic I'd just used at once, I counted myself lucky that a migraine was the only price I had to pay. "Who enchanted you?" I asked.

The bear shifter looked me up and down, then surprised me by bowing at the waist. He tried to move smoothly, but there was some lumbering awkwardness to the gesture. Possibly a side effect of his shifting enchantment, the way Kendall's skittishness carried over from her animal form. The bear-man winced at the movement, no doubt pained by my magical attack, but he hid his discomfort well. "Enchantress. I've been instructed not to reveal my benefactor's name, my lady."

Heat crept into my cheeks. "Rise, please," I said softly.

He did. Now that I took a look at him, I realized he was in his late teens or early twenties, only a year or two younger than me. His hair was brown, his eyes grey. He was large, and not particularly chiseled, though faint lines suggested a thick layer of muscle beneath his flesh. "What's your name?"

"Peter Abercrombie. Pete to my friends, my lady."

"Stop calling me that."

He frowned. "You're an enchantress. Magically speaking, you're royalty."

"And you're a Seeker, to talk that way." I glanced past Pete at Desmond. "A normal who discovers the magical world and seeks out enchantment to become a part of it."

Desmond nodded. "I'm familiar with them. You're lucky to be alive, Pete. Many Seekers wind up as lab rats for the enchanters who find them."

"Or permanently disabled from enchantments gone wrong," I said. "How much did you pay?"

Pete smirked. "She didn't charge me. I've been looking for an enchanter for years. Other Seekers had told me to be ready to pay, but she didn't ask for anything. Said she just needed to get rid of the magic."

Desmond and I shared a look. She. Our rogue enchanter was a woman. "You realize what you did is illegal?"

"Sure, but only for the enchantress. They can't prove I was a willing accomplice. I can just say she forced the enchantment on me, and those Hunters, whatever you call them, will let me go. That's what everybody says."

Desmond growled, "Unless you confess your crime to a Void, you dumbass."

Pete froze. He glanced over his shoulder at Desmond and seemed to see him for the first time. He took in Desmond's attire, his bare sword, the combative set to his legs. His eyes closed. "Crap."

Immediately his shoulders began to grow. "Stop!" I shouted, brandishing the gun. But Pete was already halfway through the shift, and a heartbeat later the massive bear stood between us again. Before I could fire, he knocked me aside with one clawed paw. Pain slashed across my chest. My concentration slipped, and my conjured gun vanished from my hand. I hit the floor hard and skidded, rocky ground biting my palms. I heard a grunt, another animal scream, and then heavy steps lumbering away.

Desmond appeared by my side. Slowly he helped me sit up. "You're hurt."

"It's not bad." I had no idea whether that was true, but it seemed the thing to say. "He's getting away."

"Let him. He got you with a claw. Slashed your shoulder open. Barely missed your neck. I need to get your shirt off to see ..."

"No." I closed my hand around his fist, gently pushed it away. "I'll be fine."

"Unless you've got a healing charm in your pocket ..."

I laughed and winced. "No. Healing is above my pay grade."

Kendall suddenly popped up from behind the ruined worktable. Desmond and I both jumped. "So," she said, finishing tucking her shirt back in, "this Shifty Pete guy was nuts, right? Getting enchanted by a newbie? Isn't that like getting a tattoo from somebody who just picked up their needles?"

"He didn't seem to know any better," said Desmond, glancing up the stairs. "I'm guessing he just wanted to do something wild. Most people who seek enchantment are more ..." He trailed off.

"Desperate," I finished. "They're in some kind of trouble and think magic will get them out."

"And enchanters prey on their misery," said Desmond. "Like loan sharks, but dealing in souls."

"Magic isn't supposed to be used like that," I said softly. "It's not a dirty, treacherous thing. It's meant for beauty. For art. It's a tool."

Desmond put a hand on my shoulder. "So is a hammer, but it can also be a weapon."

I sighed. "The enchantress we're seeking is getting more skilled. If she was able to create a shifter without any major side effects, she's learning how to channel her power. She's adding more weapons to her arsenal. And we don't know anything more than when we got here."

"We know there is another enchantress," said Desmond. "Shifty Pete didn't recognize you."

"Pffff," said Kendall, waving a hand. "We knew that already."

I stared at Desmond. "You did believe I was innocent, didn't you?"

His gaze dropped. "I wanted to. I really, really wanted to. It's just ... it's good to have proof."

Shouts rang out at the top of the stairs. I tensed and conjured my gun again as men in black masks came pouring into the workshop. Kendall squealed, and Desmond raised his sword. One of the men grabbed my arm. In panic, I fired. A magical bullet burst from my gun and hit him right in the chest. He didn't even blink.

"Assaulting a Void Union member is a crime," said a familiar voice. I glanced to the top of the stairs as the man wrenched the bracelet from my arm and my conjured gun evaporated. Maribel stood haloed in moonlight, hands on her hips, glowering down at us.

The masked men relieved Desmond of his sword. Another snatched my purse and began emptying my pockets. A third patted Kendall down, searching for weapons.

Fear uncoiled in my belly. I raised my hands, sending a thread of pain through the cut on my shoulder. "You're late. I saw the enchantress who did this, and fought off one of her creatures. She fled on foot. If you brought enough people, you might be able to—"

My words died as a man pulled my arms behind me. I hissed as my shoulder lit up with pain. Metal cuffs locked around my wrists.

"Hey!" Desmond shouted. "Maribel, it isn't her!"

"She's an enchantress," Maribel said. "I gave her the benefit of the doubt earlier, but now we've found her in the culprit's workshop, with a dead Void sentry in the stable, firing a conjured weapon on our people. Your word was enough before, Desmond Desoto, but not any longer. Now, she's under my jurisdiction."

The fear dug in claws and hauled itself up my chest. "I'm not a fleshwriter," I said. "I would never use enchantment to hurt people."

"Keep talking," said Maribel. "Soon enough, your skin will show us whether you're telling the truth."

# Chapter 12

"YO," YELLED KENDALL, "this room sucks!" We were stuck in a ten by ten space, with no windows and a single door with no inside knob. The walls were painted lowest-bidder white, with bare concrete beneath us. My feet felt cold on the unforgiving floor. They'd taken our shoes when they searched us.

"Kendall, stop," I said from where I sat against the wall, knees drawn to my chest. "They aren't going to listen."

She turned from the door. "Yeah, you go ahead and feel sorry for yourself. I'm not putting up with it." She banged on the door again. "Open up! I have finals next week, assholes."

To my shock, the door cracked open. Kendall had a brief moment to flash me a triumphant look before Maribel stalked in and slammed the door behind her.

In her hand she clutched the bracelet Kendall had picked up at the hidden workshop. "What's this?" the Union Hunter demanded.

"Dunno," said Kendall.

"It was in your pocket."

"Yeah, have you seen how many pockets I wear? I can't keep track of all the shit I pick up. Adrienne's even worse. Practically a hoarder, that girl."

"I see." Maribel waved the bracelet at me. "This one of yours, witch?"

"Stop calling me that," I said.

"Yeah, the preferred term is 'metaphysically challenged,'" said Kendall. "And I found that at the other enchanter's lab. You know, the one who's getting all murdery up in here. It didn't kill me, so it's harmless, and I like the way it sparkles. Give it back."

Maribel glared at Kendall as she slowly affixed the bracelet to her own wrist. Kendall glared right back. As Maribel clicked the clasp shut, Kendall muttered, "Thief."

"You stole it first." Maribel then transferred her glare to me. "I told you not to go back to that ranch."

"The enchanter triggered my trap." I stood up. While the highest heels wouldn't make me the same height as Maribel, I didn't want to look smaller than necessary. "I couldn't get hold of Desmond, and you people didn't exactly give me a hotline to call, so I went to check it out." I paused. "I'm sorry about your friend."

"Should I take that as a confession?"

My simmering frustration began to boil. "Why do you hate me so much? I haven't done anything."

"Yeah," said Kendall. "Haven't you noticed? Adrienne is the quiet, sweet one. I'm the more likely psychopath."

"Squirrel," said Maribel, "if you don't stop talking, I'm going to muzzle you."

"Best of luck."

"I'm not a killer," I said. Tension crept into my muscles and made my fists clench. "And I don't use magic to hurt people. I'm on your side, but you seem more interested in yelling at me for being what I am than actually finding the person behind this."

Maribel barked a harsh laugh. "You really see yourself as innocent. Even when you channel magic every day, you think you're not dangerous."

"I can be dangerous if provoked," I said, too angry now to think.

Kendall raised her hands, palms out. "Oookay, let's calm down, kids. Adrienne is not a threat. Seriously. She collects seashells. And ribbon. And stamps. Not the post office kind, the rubber and ink kind. She has a rubber band ball. Have you ever known a serial killer to have a rubber band ball?"

"Ted Bundy once compared killing to collecting stamps," said Maribel.

Kendall paused. "Bad example."

"I've never killed a human," I said hotly. "Ever. Can you say the same, Maribel of the Void Union?"

"Don't you go using my name and title in that voodoo tone."

I scoffed. "Words aren't magic, just a guide for it. I don't need your name to do magic against you."

"Is that a threat?"

"You won't believe me if I say no, so why bother?"

"You were found at the scene of the crime, not once but twice, with magical artifacts on your person—"

"She makes them, you dolt," said Kendall.

Maribel slammed a fist against the door. "Get the shifter out of here!"

"Wait," said Kendall. "You can't just—"

The door opened, and a pair of muscular Void Hunters stormed in.

"She's right," I said as the Hunters grabbed Kendall and began hauling her, still protesting, from the room. "My enchantments are defensive, and I only used them because a bunch of this new enchanter's accidents started trying to kill me."

"Accidents?" Maribel's tone colored with outrage. "You're talking about people, real people who—"

"I know they were people! I know those under enchantment are people, better than you ever could."

"What's that supposed to—"

Kendall shifted to squirrel and tried to bite the Hunters. They kept a grip on her, awkwardly holding her at arm's length as they slammed the door. A moment later Kendall's voice yelled, "Don't make me give you rabies!"

Maribel shook her head. " _Voy a matarla_."

I raised an eyebrow. "You do speak Spanish. So you weren't just being a total _gonorrea_ about it."

" _Cállate, chica_ ," said Maribel. "I really am adopted."

"So one thing you've said to me is true."

"I haven't told you a single lie, witch."

"You keep calling me witch and insisting I'm behind these killings, and those are both—"

"The truth! The evidence is out there, girl, and I'm going to find it and make sure you—"

"Die, yes, I know you want to execute me, but I've never done a damn thing to you, so I guess I just have to assume you enjoy killing—"

"I do what is necessary to protect—"

"Save your justifications, Maribel. I'm sure they help you sleep at night, but I'm not buying the noble Hunter act."

"This is no act, Enchantress. When I prove you're the one hurting these people—"

"I haven't hurt anyone!"

"You hurt people by just existing!" Maribel's voice rose to an enraged shriek. Her fist flashed toward me. I skipped aside and slapped her hand away. For a lightning instant, our skin touched.

Kadum. Kadum. Kadum.

I froze in open-mouthed shock. "You're enchanted."

An inhuman growl crawled from Maribel's throat. Her eyes brightened to gold with slits for irises and a faint rim of amber fur. Feral hatred twisted her mouth, and she whirled away, hiding her face.

I'd seen enough. "You're a shifter. Feline. You're the cat that's been stalking me."

Maribel took a few deep breaths. With deliberate slowness she straightened her shoulders. When she turned her face was human once more. The loathing hadn't gone out of her eyes.

"Is that why you hate me?" I asked quietly. "Because you don't like your enchantment?"

She barked a harsh laugh. "No, my enchantment works just fine. Better than fine. You know how many non-Voids have ever passed Union Hunter training? Three. I'm the third, and the first woman. Being a mountain lion comes in handy in a fight."

"Then why?"

Maribel hitched up her pant leg to expose her calf. A black line curled there, a single unbroken strand forming a complex whorl. "That's no birthmark," she said coldly. "I wasn't born enchanted. And I wasn't enchanted alone."

A prickle crawled down my spine. "It's not _your_ enchantment that went bad."

"No. My parents were Seekers, and not the thrill-seeking kind. The desperate kind. The kind you people prey upon."

I wanted to protest, but my voice wouldn't work. Numb, I listened, knowing the direction this story would take and powerless to make it end differently.

Bitterness flavored Maribel's words. "We needed money. My parents were real estate agents, and they lost everything when the bubble burst. My father had a contact in the paranormal world, and he convinced them to put us in touch with an enchanter. He begged that enchanter to do something, help us keep our house and put food on the table. Of course he couldn't pay the man's rates, but the enchanter agreed to help. For a price."

I swallowed. "You."

"All of us. Me, my mom, my dad, my little sister. All of us had to agree to be enchanted, once each, to absorb some of the magic pounding on the enchanter, or he'd let us starve. So of course we did it. He said it would improve our lives, that he'd turn me, my mom, and Kelly into shifters, and then put a small money charm on my dad to get us back on our feet."

" _On_ him? That's so dangerous, why would he—"

"Because he was a liar, and he just wanted subjects to use to hone his powers. My enchantment went fine, but the others ..." Maribel clenched her teeth. Moisture glistened in her eyes.

There was nothing I could say to fix what happened to her. Worse, there was nothing I could do, either. "I'm so sorry."

"I visit them. Sometimes. Every so often Kelly remembers who I am. She thinks we're still little girls and asks to play dress up. Mom and Dad are so far gone they need someone to spoon feed them."

"I'm sorry," I repeated, as if saying it more times would help.

Maribel swallowed and blinked the burgeoning tears away. Her vulnerable moment died, and the cold mask of the Union Hunter slipped back into place. "It's nothing personal," she said. "Some people are born sociopaths. Some are born enchanters. Both are a threat to society, and someone has to stop you."

"I'm not like him," I said softly. "Magic can be ugly and ruinous, but it can also be beautiful."

Maribel paused. "I suspect you really believe that. But you're wrong."

"I could look at your family," I said, raising my eyes to meet hers. "I can't promise anything, but I might be able to draw the magic out of them, channel it somewhere else. It probably won't fix the damage, but there's a chance that another enchantment might—"

"No!" The vehemence in her tone scared me. Her eyes welled once more, and she raised a trembling finger to point at me. "You won't go anywhere near them. I won't expose them to any more magic."

"I'm trying to help—"

"You think the other guy meant to screw up their minds? Even when you people mean well, you're dangerous."

"But if there's any chance—"

"No! I'm done with you." Maribel pounded the door again. "Take her."

The burly Hunter stomped in again, this time heading for me.

"Wait," I said. "There's still another enchantress out there."

Maribel turned away, deaf to my pleas. The guard grabbed my wrists and pinned my arms behind my back with one hand. He began dragging me toward the door.

"Please," I said, ignoring the fresh stabs of pain in my wounded shoulder. "If you won't let me help your family, at least let me stop this from happening to anyone else!"

We reached the door. I hooked my foot around the frame, to stay in the room, to make Maribel hear me. "You have to let me find her. I'm not the enemy!"

The guard kicked the back of my knee, dislodging my foot. He yanked me out of the room and slammed the door behind us. Before it closed, I saw Maribel's shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

# 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 it 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."

"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."

The man took an aggressive step toward Desmond. Desmond matched Axel's posture, his body shifting into a loose combative stance. "Axel, I respect you. I don't want to fight you."

"Good. Don't."

I touched Desmond's elbow. "It's all right, Desmond. I'll be fine."

"Adrienne ..."

"Don't get yourself into more trouble over me. It's just some questions."

Desmond didn't take his eyes off the bald guard. "Just questions, right?"

Axel gave a noncommittal grunt.

"I'm coming with her."

"No."

"You can't expect me to—"

"You want to be locked in a cell, too? If not, get outta the way." Axel shoved past Desmond. Desmond looked ready to fight him, but I shook my head, letting the guard seize me by the arm.

As the big man led me out, I looked over my shoulder at Desmond's worried face and hoped this wasn't the last time I'd ever see him.

# Chapter 14

WE WOUND THROUGH windowless hallways, then entered a plain grey elevator. I half expected the numbers to include basement floors leading to the center of the earth, but the numbers started at one and went up to fifteen. Guess even the Voids didn't want to risk being caught in a basement during an earthquake.

I had no idea what floor we started on, but Axel hit the button for the top floor, and the ride was so smooth I barely felt it. The elevator dinged pleasantly, and we stepped out into rows of cubicles, all empty. Computers off, file trays vacant, not even a stray paperclip. Lifeless as a graveyard. My stomach clenched. If Axel wanted to do something to me here, nobody was around to stop him.

Wordlessly, he led me zigzagging through the cubicles until we reached a large corner office. It had no windows to the rest of the floor, and the door had a lock. The sick feeling in my stomach blossomed into panic. As he opened the wooden door, his grip slackened on my arm. Instinct took over. I wrenched my limb from his grasp and sprinted back across the old carpeting, heading for the stairwell.

He caught me before I'd gone ten paces and bodily lifted me into the air. I screamed for help, but of course no one came. He dragged me kicking and thrashing back to the office, threw open the door, and shoved me inside. I landed on my knees and rolled over, hands up, ready to fight. Some of the medical tape bandaging my shoulder came loose. I tried to breathe in magic, but there was still barely a whisper of it in the air.

To my surprise, Axel only glared at me, then slammed the door in my face.

"Welcome, Adrienne Morales," said a calm, deep voice behind me.

My heart jumped into my mouth. I hopped to my feet and turned to see a large metal desk topped with file folders and a sleek laptop. Behind it stood a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair and the angular features of a shark. His frame was thin, though he had the lean muscle of someone who had once been rather formidable but had toned down his workout in his older years. His ears had the puffy cauliflower look that came from getting into too many fights. His grey eyes locked onto me like loaded guns. I shivered. Call it magic, or instinct, but I had the feeling this man was far more dangerous to me than Maribel or any of the musclebound Hunters.

"Who are you?" I asked, though I had a pretty good suspicion.

He gestured to the single, thinly upholstered chair facing his desk. "Sit down, Adrienne. I need to discuss some things with you."

"I want a lawyer."

He laughed. It sounded like he'd practiced with a tape recorder. "The law doesn't apply here. Not to you, and certainly not to me. In this building, in our underworld, I make the law."

"You're the legionnaire of this Union." I conjured a name from my memory. "Bane Harrow."

"You've heard of me."

"Everyone has heard of you." He was one of the five most powerful Voids in the nation, leader of the entire San Francisco area, with thousands of paranormals under supervision. If a vampire sneezed anywhere west of the Rockies, he knew about it.

Harrow smiled and gestured again to the chair. "Your boyfriend argued quite vehemently on your behalf."

"He's not my boyfriend."

"Though you wish otherwise, I suspect." Harrow settled himself into a comfortable, well-worn office chair behind his desk. "You can sit, or stand, but if you try to run, my bodyguard out there will just throw you back in here. You may as well make yourself comfortable."

I glanced around the office, studying my surroundings. Precious little cluttered the space. Besides the desk, there was a single, two-drawer filing cabinet in one corner. A fake plant sat in the opposite corner, its leaves too evenly green to be real. Two walls consisted of the same ceiling-high windows that lined the rest of the floor. Another wall held an enormous mirror that reflected the city skyline from outside. The remaining wall had three decorative swords hung point-down: a thin fencing rapier, an ancient-looking Roman gladius, and an enormous gold-plated broadsword. None of the blades carried any decorative carving or artistic detailing. Even the gold-plated one managed to seem practical and threatening, despite its bright sheen.

Slowly I approached the metal chair. I inspected it, half expecting automatic restraints that would pop into place the moment I sat down, but it looked to be an ordinary desk chair. I touched it, checking for enchantment, before finally perching on the edge of the seat. Once settled, I finally took the time to fix the tape holding my bandage in place.

"Good," said Harrow with another shark smile. "Now then, Adrienne, I believe you owe me an explanation."

"For what?"

"For how you managed to evade my notice for so long. Especially given your particularly strong magnetism for magic."

"I don't do big enchantments. I keep out of paranormal politics. Never gave anyone a reason to report me."

"And yet you walk around carrying a veritable treasure trove of magic on your body."

I froze.

"Come now, you didn't think our cells were free of surveillance?"

"You were watching us?"

"Listening. Cameras are so obtrusive, but microphones are easier to hide. I heard your entire conversation with Reserve Desoto." His eyes trailed down my shirt, to where the knotted fabric hid my tattoo. "I would like to see it."

"I would like to leave."

"I am going to examine this magic bound to you, one way or another. It's easiest if you don't fight."

I tried to stare him down, but his grey eyes were impenetrable oceans, threatening to drown me in emotionless depths. I dropped my gaze and pulled the shirt aside to reveal my tattoo.

"I see," he murmured. "It really is broader than most."

I hid the mark as quickly as I could while still trying not to look rushed. "You didn't believe me?"

"Desoto has eliminated his share of predators, but he is inexperienced with enchanters. I did not trust his appraisal of your markings. But it seems he was correct. You are indeed enchanted with an obscene amount of magic."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"Your cult is still looking for you."

All the air stilled in the room. My lungs compressed, refusing to breathe. The windowless walls seemed to swirl around me, spinning into a funnel that would drop me into a pit. "What?" I managed to croak.

"The fleshwriters who raised you. The ones in Virginia? Led by Geralt Sauvage? They haven't forgotten about you. How long has it been, five years?"

"Seven," I whispered.

"I hear about that cult's activities through the Union. We don't have a strong presence in their area, but the Philadelphia legionnaire keeps an eye on them. Every so often they send groups on short trips. To Seattle, Boston, Dallas. Even as far as New Delhi and Brisbane. They go with no warning, stay for a few days, and return. We weren't sure what they were doing, but now that I've heard your story, it seems they've been conducting a search."

"You can't tell them where I am," I blurted. "Please. You don't know what they would do—"

He held up a hand. "I am a legionnaire of the Void Union, Adrienne. The last thing I want is to put more power in the hands of enchanters. Particularly those who have proven themselves dangerous to normals. No, I have no interest in turning you over to your former family. I merely want you to be aware of the danger you're in."

"Those aren't Union-patrolled cities they're visiting," I said. "They're looking in the wrong places."

"Last spring they sent a single scout to Los Angeles."

My heart stopped. L.A. had the fifth-largest Void Union in the country. "They wouldn't dare—"

"They did dare. Of course we captured that scout and ensured he won't be a threat to anyone ever again, but they're getting bolder." He stared intently at me. "It just so happens that last spring, the Los Angeles Union also captured a rogue enchantress in her early twenties. She was caught selling wards to deter muggers. Shortly after that was when the cult scout showed up. Quite a coincidence, don't you think?"

I swallowed. "They're sending scouts to places they think I might have been spotted."

"Exactly. And they're getting bold enough to set foot in strong Union territories. Whatever magic you're carrying, they want it very badly. It's only a matter of time before they come here."

"What happened to her?" I asked suddenly. "The enchantress you caught in L.A. What did you do with her?"

"Yes, that situation is rather similar to your own right now, isn't it? We found no evidence of malicious magic usage. We held her for a few days, then registered her with a Union contact and turned her loose. So long as she completes her check-ins and doesn't step out of line, she'll be left alone."

"As alone as she can be with Union Hunters watching her every move."

A thin smile flattened his mouth. "We do what we must, Adrienne. I would think you of all people would understand."

"I haven't done anything. I'm not the one you're looking for."

"No, I don't think you are. Maribel was overzealous in arresting you. You have committed a crime by evading our supervision, but nothing so serious as casting harmful enchantments on others. I have no desire to execute you, so long as you begin following our laws."

Points of tension loosened in my back. I sighed. Seven years was a pretty good run for hiding under the Union's nose. "I'll do the check-ins. I'll make sure you people know when I leave the city or move or buy a new car. I'll even let you know every time I take a sick day if that's what you want. Just don't let the cult find me."

"I appreciate your cooperation." He smiled, making my skin prickle. "But that's not the reason I'm talking to you."

"Then what do you want from me?"

Harrow opened his laptop. "From my scouts' reports, you channel magic very well."

"Thank you?"

"It's a fact, not a compliment. You're holding a wealth of magic in your body, and you're being assailed by more magic than the average enchantress, yet you still have your mind intact. Your body is remarkably adept at channeling magic."

"It's not just luck. I've worked hard."

He waved a hand. "Yes, yes, I'm sure it took years of training and practice to refine your skills. The point is, you are among the best enchanters in any Union-controlled area in this country. True?"

"I don't—"

"Is what I said true?"

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. "Probably."

"Then you are in a perfect position to help us." He turned the laptop to face me. The screen was divided into boxes, each box showing a different film clip. It took my mind a moment to process what I was seeing. In the top right corner, a fox thrashed in a small room, throwing itself against the walls and floor over and over. The next box over showed a teenage girl tapping her index finger against each of her toes. The third box was dark, but every so often the film crackled with static, and then a handprint appeared on the lens.

"What is this?" I whispered.

"Victims. Like you, these people were put under enchantment. Some of them sought it out. Some of them were tricked. Some never even knew what was happening."

I stared at the screen, where over a dozen people's insanity played on repeat. "Turn it off."

"Look at them, Adrienne. These people were hurt by enchanters."

"I said turn it off."

"I want you to help them."

"I can't. If the magic has taken their minds, that's it. There's no going back."

"You told Maribel you could help her family."

"I said I could look. I can look at these people, and maybe one or two of them I can free from enchantment, but it won't restore them completely. The best I can do is reduce their symptoms, and even that's a long shot."

"Taking the magic out of them would at least remove the cause of their pain."

"That won't help. It might actually make things worse. And I'd have to do something with all that magic."

"We have some ideas for that."

He said it so casually, so offhand, but his words flattened me like an oncoming train.

Bane Harrow, the Legionnaire of the San Francisco Void Union, wanted me to perform enchantments for him.

# Chapter 15

I STARED AT HIM in revulsion. "No."

"Consider—"

"No! You want me to harvest the magic in those people and then use it for your own projects? You want me to use them like batteries? Like the fleshwriters do?"

"They're already insane. You did something similar with the malformed shifter at the barn."

"I was taking off an enchantment I had put on, undoing my own work. And that enchantment was only on him for a few minutes. Removing older enchantments could be dangerous, could even kill the victims if the enchantments are tied to their vital processes."

"They're insane. Unable to live normal lives. Might not death be preferable?"

Disgust filled my mouth, and I fought the urge to spit at him. "They're not a threat. I won't kill them. They have a right to life."

"What about those who could be safely disenchanted, then? Would you remove the magic from them?"

"Even if I did, I'd have to find a use for the magic. Something that would fit with how it was already inclined. Every time I did it, I'd risk the magic turning back on me and driving me insane."

"We would provide you with anything you needed. Materials, workspace, subjects."

"Subjects?"

"Objects. Plants. Animals. Perhaps, if you thought yourself up to it, we could arrange for a Seeker or two to receive a shifting charm—"

"You want me to enchant humans? Aren't you a Union leader? Your entire goal is to reduce the number of paranormals!"

Again the thin-lipped smile appeared. "That ship has sailed, I'm afraid. The Union was formed with the goal of eradicating magic, yes, but we are outnumbered now. Weaker unions are already being dissolved through pushback from the paranormals they oversee. We enforce fewer and fewer laws, because there are simply too many of you. There was a time when you wouldn't have been able to enter the city limits without someone pegging you as an enchantress. Now you were able to live among us for years without detection." He shook his head. "No, there is little hope now for controlling the paranormal population. We have to shift to a more progressive stance. Partnering with the shifters, the vampires, the supernaturally gifted. Including them in our governance. Making the paranormal community self-regulating."

"So you want me to make you a handful of pet paranormals, people who owe their enchantment to you. Then you can parade them out to the other paranormals and say, 'See? I'm on your side.'"

Harrow's smile didn't fade. "You are quick."

I shook my head. "I won't do it."

"Consider that your cult is on the hunt. Having the Union as an ally would make you virtually untouchable. Especially as my personal magical consultant."

"I don't want to work for you."

"If it's money that's the problem ..."

"No. The problem is using magic to create living weapons for you."

Harrow leaned forward. "I need your help, Adrienne. I need you by my side. This is bigger than either of us. Some Unions have already ..." He abruptly cut himself off, leaning back in his chair and smoothing his greying hair. "But that can wait. At least consider my offer. Union protection and an official position in my government in exchange for your services."

"I've considered. The answer is still no."

Disappointment clouded his face. "A shame." He stood and headed for the door.

"Is this the part where you threaten to have your guard lock me up forever if I don't help?"

He laughed, and to my surprise, he sounded genuinely amused. "I've never found that tactic to be very effective. Besides, if you can escape a cult of fleshwriters, I imagine you could eventually escape our cells as well. No, I'm not going to threaten you, Adrienne. I'm going to turn you loose, so you can return to your crafting and your apartment and spend some time thinking about what it would be like to lose it all, to have your cult find you and drag you back to be sacrificed. I'm going to let you pay attention and see how the paranormal community is growing larger and harder to control. And I'm going to wait for you to realize that I'm only asking you to do what is best for all of us."

He opened the door. His bodyguard glanced back, eyes locking immediately on me. Harrow nodded to him. "Axel, please escort Miss Morales to the exit."

I passed Bane Harrow warily, half-expecting a sudden change of heart, but he maintained his thin smile as I slid past him into the cubicle-filled room. "Think about my offer," he said. "At your first monthly check-in with the Hunters, tell us if you've changed your mind. We'll be in touch."

I nodded and started to walk away, staying out of reach of Axel the muscleman.

Harrow's parting words stabbed me in the back. "And Adrienne ... we'll be watching you."

# Chapter 16

AXEL RETURNED with me to the elevator. The ride to the first floor took longer than the trip up, so the holding cells had to be on a middle floor. I filed that information away for later use, hoping I wouldn't need it.

The big bald man stood at parade rest in one corner of the elevator, watching me with no trace of emotion. I shifted from foot to foot, uncomfortable under his gaze. "So," I said. "Is Axel your real name?"

He grunted. "No."

"What is it, then?"

The elevator doors opened and deposited us in a carpeted lobby. A gleaming reception desk stood beside the elevator, staffed by a brunette in professional attire. A sign on the front of the desk read "Standard Systems Ltd."

The receptionist gave me a perky smile and said, "Thank you for your business!"

I blinked.

"Cassie's clued in," Axel said. "She just has to play her part."

"You guys have a business front?" I asked. Magic in my bones, they even had fake plants by the desk. "Is that why all those empty cubicles are upstairs? You're using the whole building, pretending to be a company?"

Axel grunted again and took my elbow, shepherding me toward the glass door to the street.

Behind us, the elevator played a pleasant little tune. The doors opened again. This time Desmond stepped out, his arms full. I spotted my purse slung over his shoulder beside his sword gear case and a plastic bag that had my shoes sticking out of it.

"Adrienne!" He dropped everything and ran to me, shoving Axel out of the way. His warm arms enveloped me and lifted me off the ground, squeezing tight.

"I shouldn't have let them take you," he said. "I should have come. I should have fought for you."

Pleasant tingling filled my body. I laid my head on his shoulder and breathed in his scent. If only for a moment, I pretended I was his, and he mine. "It's all right," I said softly. "I'm okay. I'm here."

It ended when Desmond seemed to realize we had an audience. Slowly he set me down, then retrieved my purple tennis shoes from the bag. As I tied the laces, I snuck glances up at him. His cheeks were flushed, and he stood protectively over me, as if daring Axel to try to take me away again.

I checked my purse and found to my surprise that most of my enchanted gear had been returned. They kept some of the shinier pieces, probably assuming I'd put the most magic into them, but my sensory ring, shield ring, and conjured knife bracelet were all there. The gun bracelet was missing, but all things considered, it wasn't too bad a loss.

Gathering my things, I prepared to head for the door. I considered slipping my hand into Desmond's, but I'd told Bane Harrow that we weren't a couple, and I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of thinking he'd read me correctly.

Just before I stepped through the tinted glass doors, Cassie the receptionist called, "Ma'am, your bill."

I frowned and returned to the desk. "What bill?"

Still with that pasted-on smile, she handed me a piece of paper. I read it over and my jaw dropped. "You can't be serious."

Desmond came up behind me and read over my shoulder. "Adrienne, let's go."

"No, they can't really mean this. I haven't done anything!"

"Adrienne."

Desmond pulled me toward the exit. I went unwillingly, glaring back at the receptionist as if everything that had happened since last night was her fault.

"Have a nice evening!" she called as we stepped out onto the busy, narrow streets of San Francisco.

I whirled on Desmond and waved the paper in his face. "They're fining me a thousand dollars for unsupervised use of magic!"

He gently took my hand and lowered the paper. "That's actually less than I thought."

"You knew about this?"

"The Union makes a lot of money through fines on paranormals."

"That's unethical."

"Yes, but we can't change it. You got off easy. I've seen them fine people three times that much for less."

"So I'm supposed to be grateful?" I balled the bill in my fist. "I can't pay this."

"I'll cover it."

My eyebrows rose, and a warm feeling sparkled in me. "I appreciate that, but you don't have that kind of money lying around, either."

"I won't let them lock you up for not paying, Adrienne. If you can't cover it, I will."

He said it so calmly, so matter-of-factly, like his willingness to pay that much for me was just a fact of nature. I hugged him and felt rewarded when he gave me a return squeeze.

"This is Harrow's doing," I said, stuffing the wrinkled bill in my purse. "He offered me a job. He's trying to bully me into taking it for the pay."

"He offered you a job? Doing what?"

"Three guesses."

"Seriously? The Union Legionnaire wants you to ..."

"He's a hypocrite."

Desmond's lip curled. "He's a lot of things, but I've never known him to be selfish. He probably has a good reason for asking you to do this."

I started to protest, and he held up a hand. "I'm not saying you should do it. Just that, in his mind, it's probably a justified request. Don't worry. I'll come up with the cash somehow."

"No, you don't have to." I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair. "And don't try to talk me out of paying my share of our booth rent at the craft fair, either. I'll just have to work extra, try to sell more projects. If that doesn't work, I can always try teaching classes at libraries or even the community colleges. Maybe Kendall can connect me with—" I froze. "Kendall! She's still in there! We have to go back and—"

Desmond tapped my shoulder and pointed above our heads. I looked up. On a branch of a struggling and leafless tree sat a bright red squirrel, happily munching a chunk of a sourdough bread bowl.

I rolled my eyes. "Gross, Kendall. Was that dropped by a tourist?"

The squirrel twitched its ears at me, then ran along the tree and disappeared into an alleyway. A few minutes later, Kendall sauntered out, in an outfit she must have stashed between the buildings before shifting. "It's not gross when I'm in squirrel form," she said. "That's what squirrels eat."

"Now that you're a person again, can we get some people food? I haven't eaten since last night, and I'm starving, and I have to think up a way to earn a thousand bucks."

Kendall whistled. "That sucks. You must've really pissed them off."

I thought of Bane Harrow's practiced smile, of the way his eyes had bored holes in me. "Actually," I said with a shiver, "I think he liked me."

The Union had searched my car. I grumbled as I knelt on the back seat and reset my decorative pins in the rear deck. Someone had also pulled the head off my bobble-head wizard. I thought of nasty enchantments I could throw at Maribel as I tried and failed to reattach it. It was nothing a bit of hot glue wouldn't fix, but the pettiness of it irked me.

After I changed into a spare shirt, Kendall rode with me, and Desmond drove his own car to That Place on the Corner, a small diner near Crafter's Haven. They served beer and sandwiches and twenty-six kinds of fries themed around different countries. It wasn't packed on a weeknight, but most tables were full. I ordered a serving of Italian-style fries, which came topped with oregano, sautéed onions, tomatoes, and big chunks of sweet sausage.

"So," said Kendall, helping herself to one of my fries, "where you gonna get the cash? Can you make a money charm like you did for Mrs. J?"

"Unfortunately, no," I said. "There's no magic for making yourself instantly rich. The charm I gave her was more of a poverty ward, something to ensure her granddaughter never went completely broke. Even if I could craft an enchantment to attract income, it wouldn't work overnight. I can put more pieces in my online shop, but even that might take too long. I don't know how quickly the Union will want to be paid."

"Assume they want it fast," said Desmond, sliding into the upholstered booth opposite us.

"Wait," said Kendall suddenly. "Switch seats with me."

Desmond frowned. "Why?"

"I want to look out the window. There's a neat tree out there."

Desmond rolled his eyes and traded places with Kendall, sliding his loaded burger across the table so he sat by me. Kendall winked at me as she took his vacated spot.

I flashed her a look. We'd just escaped near-execution. This was not the time to be playing matchmaker.

But I didn't object, and I let her snatch another of my fries.

She swirled it in her strawberry milkshake. "So you need to come up with money fast. Wanna rob a bank?"

Desmond choked on a mouthful of bacon.

"That's not really my style," I said, laughing.

"Come on, I bet you could make it easy with your magic. I've always wanted to try bank robbery. I think I'd look good in the ski mask." Kendall popped the fry in her mouth and took another. "No? Life of crime isn't appealing to you?"

"Being an enchantress is crime enough for me, thanks."

"How about selling some of that jewelry you keep around for enchanting?"

I ate a couple of my fries before Kendall could finish them. "None of that is real. It's all steel and rhinestones. I can't afford the real stuff, and I don't want to attract thieves to my magic gear anyway."

"Can you tell fortunes?"

"I was thinking something more on the mundane side of my work. I can make more pieces for the art fair this weekend, but I'd like something more consistent, too. Do you know anybody who needs an art tutor?"

"Anyone who does will want a tutor with a degree."

"I can't exactly enroll in university with people hunting me."

"I can ask around." Kendall shrugged. "But I wouldn't get your hopes up. The economy, you know?"

I sighed and shoved another fry and a bite of sausage into my mouth before sliding the rest of the tray across the table to Kendall.

"You eat like a bird," she said.

"You eat like a squirrel," retorted Desmond.

Kendall shoved a bit of sausage in her cheek so it puffed out, then stuck her tongue out at him.

Desmond lowered his voice. "Would it be so bad to work for Harrow? Maybe you could negotiate what he wants you to do. Stick to consulting and refuse the things that are ..."

"Reprehensible?" I said hotly.

"That works."

I shook my head. "I've known people like him. They agree to your terms, but slowly over time they whittle away your boundaries. First it'll be just one enchantment, a defensive talisman to protect a Union ally, because the streets are getting dangerous and we need to keep people safe. Then it'll be something a little stronger, something that can hurt others. Just for self-defense, of course. Soon they have you making magical weapons and throwing magic around wherever they want, and when they ask you to sacrifice your only child for the good of the cause—"

"I don't think Harrow is like your cult," said Desmond. "I don't think he'd push you like that. He really believes in what he's doing."

"So did Geralt," I said softly. "So did my mom and dad. People who believe in what they're doing are the most dangerous. Harrow may not be leading a cult, but any interaction, any relationship can turn into one if you don't keep your guard up."

Desmond's brow furrowed, and a pained look crossed his face.

Crap. He thought I was talking about him. Foot, meet mouth. Oh, you already know each other?

Before I could dig myself any deeper, Kendall cleared her throat. "So what would be your sacrificial child, then? Your glue gun?"

I threw a balled napkin at her. "Maybe I should just keep trying to find the enchantress behind these attacks. They have to give me a reward if I solve their case for them, right?"

"Adrienne, no," Desmond said. He reached over to enclose my hand in his. His rough palm warmed my fingers. "They've made it clear they don't want you involved in this. Don't give them a reason to arrest you again."

"Geez, what's got you so protective?" Kendall asked. "I don't see any such concern for _my_ safety."

Desmond didn't look away from me. "Please, Adrienne. If not for yourself, then for me and your other friends. Don't get any deeper involved in this."

I frowned. Kendall was right. Desmond had been acting strangely ever since he visited me in the holding cell. Just what had happened while I was a captive? "Desmond, do you know more about what's going on?"

"No."

"You're lying."

"I can't say." He winced. "I may not be with the Hunters, but they still get to boss me around. Maribel doesn't want you around this case. All she needs is an excuse, and she'll start a fight with you."

"Let her," I grumbled. "She's no Void. My magic can protect me."

"Then she'll claim you attacked her and throw you in a cell again, and this time you won't walk out. Bane Harrow may have an interest in you, but even he won't stop the execution of an enchantress who goes around assaulting Union Hunters." He gave my hand a squeeze. "Trust me, Adrienne. Stay away from this."

"Adrienne!" A voice broke through the buzz of activity filling the restaurant. I turned to see Mrs. Jacinta approaching our booth.

"Hey, Mrs. J," I said. "Nice to see you."

"Yes," she said quickly. Her lined face was tense, her golden-brown eyes wide. "Adrienne, may I speak with you for a moment?"

"Can we make an appointment for tomorrow? I've had a long day and—"

" _Es importante_. I promise not to take much of your time."

Holding in a sigh, I waited for Desmond to clear the seat, then slid out. Mrs. Jacinta shepherded me to a secluded corner near the hallway to the bathroom. She kept glancing over her shoulder, and a creepy-crawly feeling began in my neck. "Mrs. J, what's wrong?" I asked.

She took another look around, then whispered something.

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you."

She pulled me in until she was practically kissing my ear. Her gnarled fingers dug into my wrist. Her breath was hot as she hissed, "Did you put a spell on my wind chime?"

My breath caught. I swallowed, trying to summon a lie, but my entire body had gone rigid at the question. I tried to pry my hand free, but her grip was like iron.

"I'm afraid I'm losing my mind," she said. "Please. Tell me the truth."

"Mrs. J ..."

"I need to know. It's important, Adrienne."

The haunted look in her eyes convinced me. I took a deep breath. "It's not a spell. It's an enchantment. And it's not harmful. It was just a charm to ward off poverty."

She stared at me, as if seeing me for the first time. "Prove it."

"I can't—"

"Show me. Convince me this is real. Convince me I haven't lost my last few marbles."

kadum ... kadum ...

Mrs. Jacinta's grip clung to my arm, and I worried her octogenarian bones would shatter if I tried to pry her off. Quickly I plucked a hair from my head, wound it around a button on my shirt, and held the loose end against the wall. There was only an average amount of magic here, but I drew in a small amount and focused it on the wall. More specifically, on the wall's light green color. _Be green,_ I chanted. _Be verdant. Become this shade._

The magic channeled through the hair, setting it to smoking, and flowed into the button. In seconds, the button had taken on the springtime hue of the wall.

I unwound the hair and blew on it before it could fully catch fire. Mrs. Jacinta released my other wrist and stared at me. "It's true. You can do ..." She swallowed. "Magic."

"How did you find out?"

"My granddaughter's housewarming party. One of her guests was ... a tad strange. Tattoos, nose rings, black eyeliner." Mrs. Jacinta's lips pursed. "He touched the wind chime, and he looked like he'd seen the afterlife. He asked me where I'd gotten it."

My heart leapt into my throat. "Did you tell him?"

"No, I was too disturbed. I said a friend made it. He didn't press for more information, but he said I should avoid accepting anything else from you. He said you had cast a spell on the chime."

I closed my eyes. This was inevitable, I supposed. "He was probably a minor enchanter. Able to sense magic, but not channel it himself." I looked at Mrs. Jacinta. "I'm sorry for deceiving you. If you want to return the chime—"

"No, no, _mi querida artista_. I believe you meant no harm. You have the soul of an artist, and that means you can't be too tainted. I don't love all this new cultural fascination with witchcraft and the like, but I believe in miracles, and I'm comfortable accepting that some people can perform them."

"Thank you. But Mrs. J, it's important that you don't tell anyone else what I can do. There are people who would make it difficult for both of us if—" I noticed she still looked troubled, her eyes roaming the restaurant, her arms wrapping protectively around her chest. "What's wrong?"

Her gaze fell to the floor. "I never thought I would mix myself up in the occult."

"It's not really the—"

"I need your help."

My eyebrows rose to my hairline. How could this little old lady who loved fake flowers and potpourri possibly be in paranormal trouble? "What happened?"

"It's one of my students. You know, the Sunday School classes? One of the girls is straying onto a dangerous path, and I want you to talk to her."

"I'm not sure I can talk about this with a little kid."

"She's sixteen. We have youth classes and adult ones, not just for children. Samantha used to be a great student. Very quiet, but bright and studious. A couple months ago, she came to class looking troubled. I asked her what was wrong—she doesn't have the best home life, you see, and I thought she'd had trouble with her father again—and she asked me if I believed in magic. I said I believe in miracles, and she asked if I'd ever seen one. I told her no." Mrs. Jacinta glanced at my green shirt button. "I suppose that's no longer the truth."

"You think she saw something." I fingered the button. "Something like this."

"Darker than that. She was shaken up. Whatever she saw, it disturbed her. She told me she was going to find out the truth. Since then she's withdrawn more and more. When she does talk, it's about the crazy people she's found on the internets. People who talk about becoming vampires and trying to attract magical currents."

"Seekers," I said, feeling a chill. "We call them Seekers."

Mrs. Jacinta nodded, wringing her hands. "She's being drawn into that world, and it's not good for her. I want you to talk to her, find out what she's up to, who's been influencing her. Guide her back to the right path."

I sighed. "I'm in trouble with some magical folks myself right now. I may not be the best person to help."

"I'll pay you. Anything you want."

The offer made my knees weak. I caught myself on the wall. This could be the solution to my money problems all at once.

Staring into Mrs. Jacinta's hopeful face, though, I knew I couldn't accept. Preying on the desperate. That was what fleshwriters did. I would not become like them, even indirectly.

"Don't worry," I said softly. "I'll talk to your student."

"Thank you." She dug in her purse and pulled out a tissue. And her wallet.

"No, you don't have to pay me."

"I insist." She pressed a folded bill into my palm and locked eyes with me. "I believe in miracles, Adrienne, but I also believe in demons. If you're facing some now, I want you to take care of yourself."

My throat caught. "Thank you," I managed.

She gave me a wan smile. "Samantha comes to our church's Saturday tutoring program. She'll be there tomorrow. Breath of Life Community Church."

"I'll stop by."

As she slipped back into the dining area, I opened my palm and looked at the wrinkled bill. She'd given me a hundred dollars. Touched, I smoothed the money and tucked it into my pocket.

She'd given me ten percent of what I needed to pay off the Void Union. Now all I had to do was come up with the rest, figure out what had Desmond so jumpy about this enchantress attacking people, evade Bane Harrow and Maribel, and steer a misguided teenager away from the forces of evil. All without drawing too much attention to myself so my cult wouldn't find me.

Well. At least I'd already paid the rent.

# Chapter 17

BREATH OF LIFE Community Church had little in common with the steepled and gilded cathedrals I pictured when imagining houses of worship. It was a converted warehouse, entered through one of those roll-up metal doors. Outside, a plain wooden cross stood next to an a-frame sign with the church's name and a stylized gust of wind. The font work and artistry on the sign looked nice. One of their volunteers must be a graphic designer.

Inside I passed a little cafe area with bistro tables and metal folding chairs. The floor was concrete, with colorful rugs. Hanging signs pointed the way to the bathrooms, kids area, library, and auditorium. I headed to the kids area, which turned out to be a series of large rooms. The one for teens was set up like an amphitheater, with carpeted seating surrounding a small central circle. Students sat or sprawled on the tiers, propping computers and textbooks on lap desks. Tutors stood scattered around the room, assisting students who signaled their attention. Whispered conversations went on here and there, but for the most part the room had a studious atmosphere.

Mrs. Jacinta spotted me from halfway up the amphitheater. She slowly descended the stairs and came smiling to meet me. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate this."

"I can't promise anything, but I'll do my best," I told her. "Which student is it?"

Mrs. Jacinta pointed to a girl on the second-to-highest step, tucked away in the corner where the seating met the wall. Her dirty-blonde hair hung to chin level and hid her face. She sat hunched over a textbook, a small tablet propped on her knee, note-taking stylus in hand. She wore ripped black jeans and high-top sneakers, and dozens of dark-colored bracelets bedecked her wrists. I guessed her shoelaces were glow-in-the-dark, from the odd sheen they had. I liked her immediately.

"Anything I should know?" I asked quietly.

Mrs. Jacinta shook her head. "I've told you the important parts. Samantha hasn't opened up to me very much, so I hope she'll talk to you."

Nodding, I took a deep breath and headed up the carpeted steps.

When my shadow fell on Samantha's chemistry textbook, she looked up, startled. I had a brief moment to glance at a pencil sketch of a dress atop a paragraph about chemical combustion before she slammed the book shut. "Can I help you?" she asked guardedly.

I sat on the step next to her. "I'm Adrienne."

A small pucker formed between her brows as she gave me a double-take. To her credit, she didn't ask the question most other people did after I introduced myself. "I know it's not a Latina name," I said. "My great-grandmother was French. I'm named after her. I'm here because I'm friends with Mrs. Jacinta."

Samantha studied my orange paint-spatter shirt, cutoff jeans and assorted jewelry before glancing at Mrs. Jacinta in her more conservative attire. "That's surprising."

"She buys art from me."

"You're an artist?"

I smiled and held up my left hand, displaying a leather bracelet studded with chips of scrap metal. "Looks like you are, too," I said, nodding to the corner of sketch paper sticking out of the textbook.

She flushed and tucked the paper fully into the book. "What do you want?"

I saw no reason to mislead this girl, and I doubted she'd be fooled by any small talk I might attempt anyway. "Mrs. J says you've been talking about magic."

Samantha rolled her eyes. "She's making a big deal out of nothing."

"Oh?"

"I just asked some questions."

"What kind of questions were you asking, Samantha?"

"Call me Sam." She gave me an appraising look. "Are you a therapist? Because I told her I don't need one."

I laughed. "No. I'm just an artist. And someone with some knowledge about the arcane."

"Really." Sarcasm dripped from her voice.

"Really."

"All right. If you know so much, what's the difference between a poltergeist and a banshee?"

"A poltergeist is a ghost who physically affects the place they're haunting, throwing things around and making noises. A banshee is supposed to be a spirit who wails near places where someone is going to die, but they don't actually exist."

Sam's eyebrows rose. "Banshees don't exist."

"No."

"But poltergeists?"

I gave her a knowing smile.

Sam took a careful look around, then lowered her voice. "What are you?"

"Let me show you." I held out a hand toward her sketch.

Wordlessly, she pulled the sketch out of the textbook and passed it to me. It was really quite good, with accurate proportions and some nice interplay between highlights and shadows on the folds of the gown. I lay the sketch between us and set her pencil so its point rested on the edge of the sketch, its eraser hanging over the side of the page.

I drew in a teeny amount of magic, then blew air onto the pencil's eraser. _Move,_ I chanted, focusing the magic on the flowing air. _Dance for our eyes. Be blown in invisible wind._

The magic absorbed the air's movement and channeled through the pencil. I would have liked to use a less rigid channel, but I didn't want to risk starting a fire, and wood was a pretty safe conductor of magic. So long as it wasn't too dry or brittle, anyway.

When the magic hit the sketch, flowing out through the point of the pencil, the gown began to move, its skirt billowing as if caught in the wind. Sam gasped. The magic ran out a second later and the sketch went still, but it had been enough. As Sam turned to look at me with wide, shining eyes, I knew I had her hooked.

"Ask me what you want to know," I said quietly.

Sam stuttered for a moment. "I don't know where to start. There's so much."

"You told Mrs. J you saw something that sparked your curiosity about the arcane. Start there. What was it?"

"I think ... I think it was a werewolf." Sam adjusted herself so she sat on her knees, like an eager pupil. "I was walking home from the convenience store and this guy started following me. I looked back at him a couple times and he didn't get any closer, but he also didn't back off. I usually cut through the neighbor's backyard to get to my building, but there's lots of trees and bushes and it's super dark so I didn't think it would be a good idea. I turned a corner and then hid in a doorway, to see if I could get a look at him when he went by, you know? Well, he comes along, and I look at his face, and he's got fangs. Like, mountain lion fangs. Huge."

The reference to mountain lions reminded me of Maribel. I shifted uncomfortably. "Anything else?"

"No. But isn't that enough? He obviously wasn't a normal guy. When he didn't see me he started sniffing, like he was tracking me. I broke off and ran, and he didn't follow."

I nodded. "The sniffing means he was probably either a shifter or a werebeast. The fangs could have meant vampire, or any number of other things."

"So it's real? All of it?"

"Not all of it. Most myths are just that—mythical. But some of it is true."

"And you, you're a ...?"

"Enchantress. We channel magic. The other paranormals you see exist because of enchanters."

"How did you make the dress move? Are there specific words you say, or—"

"No." I gave her a small smile. "I know you're curious, but the reason I'm talking to you isn't just to answer your questions. Mrs. J says you've been talking to people online, getting involved in communities where people try to learn more about magic."

She nodded. "I didn't know where else to turn."

"We call people like them Seekers. Those who seek out magic, try to become part of the paranormal world."

"I saw that word a few times."

"They're dangerous," I said.

"No, they're not. Most of them are super nice, really encouraging."

"They encourage you to look for ways to interact with the arcane. That's a very dangerous thing to do. Hunters and predators use those kinds of forums to search for prey, and I'm not just talking about the things that would eat you. Plenty of enchanters would use you, storing magic in you or channeling it through you for practice. You don't want to end up that way."

Sam flinched. "But what if—"

"I'm not trying to shut down your curiosity," I said. "I'm going to give you my contact information, and you can ask me anything you want. But don't become a Seeker, and don't go looking for other paranormals. It's not a world you want to enter if you can avoid it."

"What if I'm already in it?" Defiance crept back into her tone.

I studied her. "You mean more than being stalked by a werewolf?"

She looked away and fidgeted with one of her bracelets, a thick band of black plastic.

Wordlessly, I held out my hand. She hesitated, then popped the bracelet off and set it in my palm.

KADUM. KADUM. KADUM.

I dropped it like it had burned me. "This is enchanted."

Sam snatched the bracelet and reattached it to her wrist. "It just makes me a little faster. So if I see a werewolf again, I can run."

"Where did you get it?"

Her fingers twitched. "I bought it."

"Oh yeah? From whom?"

"Did you really just say 'whom'?"

"Don't try to change the subject. Who gave you that bracelet, Sam?" My muscles were tense, ready for a fight. If she got this jewelry where I think she got it, I may have just found a link to my vanishing enchantress.

She shook her head. "I don't know them."

"You have to tell me."

"I really don't know."

Since she was so fascinated by my magical abilities, I decided to use that to my advantage. Putting on a look of intense focus, I held my palm out in front of me, flat, as if I still had the bracelet in hand. "It came ... from out in the farmlands ..." I said in a dreamy voice.

Sam jumped. Her mouth parted in shock. "How ...?"

"You went to an abandoned ranch ..."

"Stop it."

"There was a cellar ..."

"Stop!"

I dropped the act. "Tell me the rest."

She eyed me. "All the message boards said you could pay someone to make enchantments for you. I wanted one, that's all."

"How much did you pay?"

"I, uh ..."

I remembered the enchantress's jewelry display in the cellar, the ring of dust in the shape of a missing bracelet. "You stole it, didn't you?"

Her face flushed.

I sighed and held out my hand again. "Give it to me."

"It's mine."

"Magic can have unintended side effects, and the person who made that has proven to be dangerous."

"Dangerous?"

"They've killed people, Sam."

Her face paled. "They have? Who?"

"Those better prepared for a fight than you. Give me the bracelet. It's for your own good."

With a petulant huff, she slid off the bracelet and tossed it to me. "Fine."

I tucked it in my pocket, then pulled out one of my crafting business cards from my wallet. "Stay away from the Seekers, Sam. If anyone tries to talk to you about magic or promises you anything magical, tell me first. I'll watch out for you."

"I don't need supervision. My dad doesn't care where I go."

She said it with practiced indifference, but I saw the subtle rise in her chin, the tension in her shoulders, as if daring me to call out her father's neglect. For a moment I saw myself, one year out of the cult, struggling to come off as an adult and not a lonely, scared girl.

I softened my tone. "Mrs. Jacinta cares about you, Sam. So do I. We want to help you. But you have to let us."

Her jaw clenched. Then her shoulders drooped. She ducked her head so her hair shielded her face. "I won't go on the message boards anymore."

"Thank you."

"And I'll tell you if I run into any more paranormals."

"Good." I stood up, feeling the bracelet in my pocket like a weight. "Trust me, Sam, you'll be glad you didn't get any deeper into this. Mrs. J says you're a good student. Keep studying, keep drawing. Make a life for yourself. It may seem like nobody cares what you do, but success is the best way to prove them wrong."

She smiled faintly. "Thanks."

I turned to go.

"Adrienne?"

I looked over my shoulder. Sam was watching me, but after a moment she ducked her head again. "Never mind. Thank you."

"Keep in touch," I said. "If you're still interested in the supernatural, I can tell you a lot. But in a safe way, without tangling with the things in the dark."

She nodded and opened her chemistry textbook, returning to the page about combustion.

I trotted down the stairs, each step resonating as magic gathered in the air.

Kadum.

Kadum.

KADUM.

# Chapter 18

"YOU SHOULD TELL DESMOND," Kendall said, studying the bracelet on my crafting table. She sat on the empty counter in the darkened store. The only light came from the lamp over my table and a string of Christmas lights strung from the overhead wooden beams where I displayed my work.

I leaned against the wall, arms folded, glaring at the black plastic band. It had no embellishments, but there was a subtle brushwork effect texturing the shiny surface. "If I tell Desmond, he'll tell the Union."

"You don't know that."

"He'll have to. He's under their thumb. They know where he lives, where he works, what his social security number is, how much money he has and where he keeps it. Groups like this invade every aspect of your life, so they can better control you. If he hides something like this from them, they'll make his life a living hell." I could see doubt lingering in Kendall's face. "Trust me. I know about this sort of thing."

She shrugged. "Okay. Top secret mission Creepy Bracelet is now under way. What do we do?"

"I'm going to take the magic out."

"And I'm here so you don't blow yourself up in the process?"

"Basically." I pushed off from the wall and stood over the crafting table. My tools were here, my crafting supplies organized and accessible. And if I didn't have what I needed in my toolboxes, Kendall could probably find it in the store. This was as safe a way to disenchant the bracelet as possible.

It didn't make my stomach flutter any less.

"All right," I said. "Let's do this."

Letting my fingers rest on the bracelet, I sucked in a breath, and with it, the magic inside.

KADUMKADUMKADUMKADUM

Skittish, the magic fluttered in me, skipping aside when I tried to take hold of it. It was fearful magic, tense and flighty, the magic of running away. At least the enchantment was actually doing what Sam thought it was, and not something more sinister. But it was going to be a pain to channel. I tried to take hold of it, to gather all the magic back together and sift through the impressions left on it. Only flashes came to me. The barn, the bracelet, Sam's frightened face. I struggled to contain the magic, to force it to stand still and show me something more concrete. _The enchantress's face,_ I thought. _Show me her face. Her face, her face._

Feet on a dirt floor.

Bracelet in the cellar.

Running, running, running, running.

My head ached. The magic bounced around inside it like hot fumes. I gritted my teeth and clung to it, straining for one more visual, one more hint.

Fear. Running.

Bracelet in the cellar.

Glowing screen. Reply. Clattering keys. New. Red letters. Black borders. Refresh.

With a gasp, I clutched the edge of the table. An ache threaded through the not-quite-closed cut on my shoulder, but the pain felt distant. "Wood. Ribbon. Pinwheel."

Kendall ran off into the aisles.

While I waited for her, I fought the urge to sprint away myself. The magic pushed me, urgent, begging me to flee invisible dangers. If I ran, maybe the flighty, gnatty feeling in my skull would go away. I had to escape, escape, escape—

I forced my feet to stay planted before my table. If I gave in to the magic's urges, if I let it control me, I'd be taking the first step toward madness.

Kendall finally returned and dumped an armload of supplies on my table. "I didn't know what kind of wood you wanted, so I brought everything I could find. The stained plaques, the oak frames—"

I grabbed an unfinished cube of soft pine and swept the rest to the floor.

"Okey-dokey then," Kendall finished.

With the pine cube on the table, I pressed the rainbow pinwheel against one side. I unwound two feet of yellow ribbon from a spool and tied it around the two objects in a bow. _Spin unceasingly,_ I chanted, focusing the magic on the soft, malleable wood. _Flee without traveling. Move within a set course. Run forever, in place._

Focused on the wood, the magic flowed out of me. I felt it try to escape the cube, to come back at me, but the wood was firm enough, its shape defined enough that the magic couldn't find an outlet. Thus focused on its new goal, it channeled through the pliable ribbon and into the pinwheel, which promptly started spinning. The panicked urges receded from my body. My muscles relaxed, including ones I hadn't known I could clench.

The etching on the bracelet's plastic vanished. So that had been the manifestation of the enchantment within. The pinwheel now sported a helix of silver color twisting up its stem. If I hadn't just put on the enchantment myself, I'd have mistaken it for paint. Around and around the multicolored wheel went, running away yet getting nowhere.

"You okay?" Kendall asked.

I nodded.

"Find anything?"

"I think so." I rubbed my temples. "I saw a computer screen, with three buttons. Reply, new, refresh."

"That's a message board. I go on them sometimes. There's a few where shifters hang out, and another one where people post funny college memes."

"Sam—the girl who had the bracelet—used them, too. That might be how she found the enchantress she stole this from. Do you know any boards about the arcane that use a black and red color scheme?"

Kendall snickered. "Try all of them. It's like there's a design checklist."

"If I can find the right board, one that looks like the one in my vision—"

"I thought Desmond told you not to go hunting this enchantress anymore."

"The Union got to him, and they're hiding something. They're not going to accept my help, but they obviously aren't able to track this woman down on their own. They need me." I plucked the pinwheel off the wooden cube. "Besides, I'm just going to poke around online. They can't get mad at me for that."

"Why do you care so much?"

Around and around the pinwheel spun, fleeing, fleeing, fleeing. My grip tightened. "I moved here to escape the fleshwriters. Now one is in my backyard. I have to find her before she finds me."

"I'm not the one with mystical insights, but I have a strong feeling that's not the whole reason."

On and on spun the pinwheel. It would be fleeing forever, or at least until it used up its magic. "I hate that I've spent my life running and hiding," I admitted.

"It's not like you had much choice."

"I know. I know my limitations. I can't do anything about my cult, or the others like it, and I can't do anything about the Void Unions bullying people, but this is something I can do. This woman is hurting people with magic. The magic in _my_ city, hurting people in _my_ city. I can't let her get away with it."

Kendall studied me. "Just ... be careful, okay?"

"I will."

"Don't go off chasing this lady. Without me, I mean. You'll need backup."

"What are you gonna do, bite her?"

Kendall flashed a smile of squirrel-shifted teeth. "Hurts more than you'd think."

I chuckled. "Thanks. Don't worry, though. I'm not planning to go anywhere. If I find any leads online, then I'll go to Desmond. The Union has to hear me out if I bring them evidence."

"You're assuming they're rational. What if—" Kendall cut herself off as the bell on the door jingled. I shoved the pinwheel into the far corner of the table, out of sight behind the embroidered partition, and schooled my face into a neutral expression.

Desmond stepped in and spotted us at my workspace. His smile had a strain in it. "Thought you might be here. Packing up for the show?"

"Just about to start." I slid my stepstool out from beneath the counter and climbed up so I could begin removing pieces from the display beam. Examples of my work hung there, brightly-dyed fique baskets, wind chimes and hand-stitched leather bags, macramé hangings and all-season wreaths, each with a discreet price tag. The San Francisco Festival of Art was a casual event in Golden Gate Park and drew mostly locals and passersby, so I wanted a good mix of pieces likely to appeal to the average consumer. I reached up with my uninjured arm, using the not-as-mobile limb to pass items down to Kendall.

"Bring that thing with all the mirrors," Desmond said, pointing to one of the pieces near the back of my display. "It'll reflect the light really well, might draw people to our booth."

I paused halfway through gathering painted canvas shopping bags. "'That thing with all the mirrors?' It's a suncatcher, you oaf."

"You know me. If it's not sturdy enough to wield like a club, I'm not interested."

"Tell that to all those little faerie figurines you carve."

He grimaced. "They sell well."

"Do they sell better because you talk to them while painting them?"

"Yes. Yes, they do." A smile threatened to crack Desmond's serious expression. "Call it magic, if you want."

"Pssh. Even if you could enchant, your magic would be all punching and bludgeoning. No artistry at all."

"I'll tell the faeries you said that."

I broke, covering my mouth to stifle the laugh. Somehow my relationship with Desmond had absorbed our new knowledge of each other's magic, or lack thereof, as if nothing had happened. Maybe I should tell him about Sam's bracelet. Maybe he'd understand. Maybe he'd side with me.

My hand rose to my chest, tracing the start of a familiar pattern. I clenched my fist and lowered it.

I'd tell him when I had something. No need to strain his loyalties before then. Tonight, after I looked for the message board from my vision, I'd tell him.

That plan didn't quite work out. By the time we'd packed everything for the craft fair and loaded it into Kendall's truck, it was almost eleven. We had to be at the park early to set up. Desmond bid me good night, letting his hand linger on my shoulder. I savored the moment and very nearly confessed everything, but my years of holding secrets kept me mute. Later, I promised myself. Later I would let him in.

At home I microwaved a bowl of ramen and ate less than half of it before fatigue got the better of me. The message board would have to wait, unless I wanted to fall asleep at the fair. I couldn't sell enough to pay my fine if I dozed off in the middle of a sales pitch. I also couldn't let Desmond down like that. We were a team, and he needed me at my best.

As I crawled into bed, I hoped the normalcy I'd felt at the store with him would hold. Surely the worst of all this was behind me.

Surely.

Art fairs happened in the Bay Area all the time. Since we bought space at all the significant ones, Desmond had gotten a pop-up tent last year to make our setup more eye-catching. Our booth was a little smaller than my workspace in the store. A large wooden sign hanging from the tent read "Crafter's Haven" with our store address and phone number. Desmond had carved the letters in the wood, and I'd stained them dark brown, then sealed the whole thing with varnish. We had three tables arranged in a U shape, one with the store's usual offerings of sketchbooks, canvasses, yarn, and the like, one with Desmond's woodwork ranging from tiny figurines up to large ornate shelves and furniture, and one with my eclectic display of pieces. I hung the mirrored suncatcher in the front corner of the booth next to the sign, where it played invitingly with the light. Kendall had brought a cooler with snacks and drinks, which we set up at the back of the tent with two canvas chairs. Only two, because Desmond insisted one of us be standing at all times, engaging with people who walked by.

While I was laying out my brightly-dyed woven baskets, two women in tight-fitting shorts browsed their way past. One made an "ooh" noise and pointed at the display. "Did you make those?" she asked me.

I smiled and nodded. "They're woven out of fique, which comes from plants grown in the Andean region of South America. The dyes are all natural, too. The baskets make great centerpieces."

"They're gorgeous. So exotic!" said one woman.

"I love Mexican art," said her friend.

"Colombian," I corrected.

She blinked and made a little, disinterested shrug. "Oh, sure."

My smile became brittle, but I managed to keep it on my face as one of the women purchased the biggest basket and a couple pieces of jewelry. They continued browsing the other booths, and I returned to my setup trying to put a positive spin on the moment. At least they'd bought something. Maybe I was being too sensitive.

Desmond came up behind me and clapped a hand on my shoulder. Leaning close, he murmured in my ear, "If you're ever in Mexico, can you get me some Colombian coffee? I hear they're basically the same place."

I laughed and popped one of my baskets over my shoulder into his face. He caught it, grinning, and helped me finish setting up my display.

Kendall, being Kendall, took first run at being our barker. "That's a gorgeous purse," she crooned to a middle-aged woman walking by with two elementary-aged kids. "Where did you get it?" The woman stopped to chat, and Kendall went about extolling the woman's good taste and by the way did she want to check out our wares?

Before sitting, I patted one of Desmond's faerie carvings on its tiny head. "Good luck today. Sell well, or it'll be really embarrassing for your maker."

"Don't talk to them," he said. "They're trying to focus."

I snickered and dug in the cooler. The wound on my shoulder was feeling much better today, and the fair put me in a festive mood. "Kendall brought beer," I told Desmond.

"Of course she did." He rolled his eyes. "Let me have one. It's supposed to be warm today."

I tossed him a bottle and chose a soda for myself.

"Not drinking today?"

"It's too early. I'm a lightweight. If I start now I'll be slurring by noon and asleep by one."

"There's no magic for that?"

"None that I'd risk trying." I popped the soda and let it hiss, again marveling at how easily he'd accepted me for what I was. Could it hurt to tell him I'd uncovered a lead on the rogue enchantress? He wasn't a huge fan of the Void Union, I knew that. He wouldn't betray my trust to them on purpose. But how deep were their hooks into him? Maybe I could find out.

"Desmond?"

"Hmm?"

"You said the Void Union found you when you were in college."

He grimaced. "Do we have to talk about them now?"

"I'm just wondering. Why didn't you just tell them to go away?"

With a sigh he set his beer aside. "Do you know what it's like growing up, knowing there's something different about you?" He glanced at me, then laughed softly. "What am I saying. Of course you do. Imagine going through that, but you have no idea what that difference is. It's something you feel, something you sense, but you can't put a name to it. You just know. Then one day someone shows up and says they have the answers. They can tell you what you are, explain those differences you haven't been able to understand. And guess what? There are more of them, like you. All you have to do is let them into your life a bit, and you'll never be alone again. I was starting to fall into it, little by little. But then the breakup with Maribel happened, and I realized I was becoming someone I didn't recognize. I backed off as much as I could. As much as they would let me."

My gaze dropped to the grass. "It was the same way with the cult. I vaguely remember my parents joining, but I saw other people get sucked in, too. It started with contact information, then home visits, then more and more."

"Did anyone ever try to leave the cult?"

"A few," I said quietly. "They tried." I didn't say more, and Desmond didn't press.

"Nobody leaves the Union," Desmond said, picking up his beer again. He took a gulp. "They say you can leave at any time, but they still have all your identifying information. Unless you want to go live in the woods without a phone or bank account, they know where to find you. It's easier to stay in. That way you at least know when they're watching you." He suddenly sat up straighter, squinting down the rows of tables and tents. He muttered a curse. "Speaking of predators ..."

I turned to see where he was looking.

Maribel marched toward our table. Her heavy boots left deep prints in the earth. A few men watched her walk by, taking in her tight black pants and army green t-shirt with a deep neckline. Wind feathered her short blonde hair.

She strode into our booth, pushing past the mother and kids chatting with Kendall. "One sec," Kendall told the mother. "Yo, cat-woman, we don't allow shoplifters in our store."

Maribel turned and glowered at them.

The mother grabbed her kids' hands and rushed off.

Kendall pointed after them. "See? You scare children. Nice kitties don't scare children."

"Call me a nice kitty again," said Maribel. "See what happens."

"No, pay attention, I said you're not a nice ki—"

"What do you want, Maribel?" I interrupted, rising from my chair.

She ignored me and looked instead at Desmond. "You're being called up, Reserve Desoto."

He scowled. "How did you find me?"

"Your store's website said you were here today."

"Yes. I'm busy. And I'm not supposed to be on Union business today."

"Plans change. They want you to help with a search. We've come up with a possible identity for one of the victims at the ranch. Might be a homeless person, a vagrant who usually hangs around here in the park. We want you to chat up other homeless nearby, see if anyone from their community has gone missing."

"I'm working, Maribel."

"You've got employees." She jerked her head at me and Kendall. "Even if they are poor help. You can spare the time."

"I said I'm working."

Her eyes narrowed. "I'm guessing it hurt your business that you were ... away on Friday."

"You mean detained. By you people."

"We're your people, Desmond. And if you want to avoid more time _away_ , you should remember that." She turned, clearly expecting him to follow.

Desmond's grip tightened on the arms of his chair.

"Go, Desmond," I said quietly. "We don't need more trouble with them."

Sighing, he stood. He took his time straightening his clothes and finishing his beer, making Maribel wait under the hot sun. "Try not to break anything while I'm gone," he said.

"If I do, I'll call it modern art and sell it."

He snickered. Then he grabbed another beer from the cooler and followed Maribel.

Kendall waited until the two of them disappeared among the other tents, then made her way over to me. "Did you see?"

"What?"

"She wasn't even wearing the bracelet she stole from me. I bet it's in a box in the back of her closet somewhere. She doesn't even want it. She just wanted me not to have it."

"Didn't you steal the bracelet first?"

"Found. I found it. There's a difference." She crossed her arms. "And why didn't you say anything? This homeless person angle seems wrong. I thought you said the enchantress recruits her victims online."

"I couldn't say that without revealing that I've still been investigating. Maribel would arrest me right now over that." I stared in the direction Desmond had gone. If I'd needed proof the Union had their hooks in him, I'd gotten it. Good thing I hadn't finished telling him what I'd done. "I'll do it when I have something concrete. Not before—"

KADUMkadumKADUMkadum

A tide of nausea surged in my stomach. I staggered and clutched the nearest table. A few of Desmond's wood carvings toppled and rolled off.

"Adrienne? Adrienne!" Kendall's voice sounded far away. Magic surged through me, but it was garbled, confused. It brushed my senses, then danced away, only for another bit to hit me a second later. My fingers seemed to swell with magic, while my chest felt like it collapsed inward.

"Bottle," I heard myself say. "Empty bottle." My hand searched blindly on the table and seized the first thing it happened upon, one of the little wooden fae figurines, standing on a raised wire display rack. I yanked it over and swept the rest of the figurines off the rack.

KADUMKADUMkadumkadumKADUM

Kendall pressed the empty beer bottle into my hand. I slammed it onto the table beside the faerie, then focused the magic. It was skittish, hard to grasp, darting in and out, pecking me then retreating. I breathed slowly, concentrating, waiting for the magic to come close and then drawing it in. When I'd gathered most of it, I focused it on the wooden carving. _Faerie shape, take illusory form. Be a shadow in glass, a dancing mirage._ I used the wire rack as a channel and sent the magic into the bottle.

kadum ... kadum ... kadum ...

My shoulders relaxed. A few people at nearby booths stared at me, but Kendall shouted something about heat exhaustion and waved them off. I glanced at the beer bottle. Something moved inside it. An ephemeral figure slid through the glass, visible for a fraction of a second before fleeing when I tried to look too close. A tiny, capering faerie, just like the carving I still clutched in my other hand.

Kendall studied it over my shoulder. "You made a faerie in a bottle? That's kind of offensive, isn't it?"

"The fae aren't real," I said. I pressed the bottle and carving into her hands. "Hold those."

"Wha—where are you going?"

"No time to explain. Don't let that bottle break, or the magic will get loose again."

Kendall's protests faded behind me as I ran down the dirt path. Crafting booths flanked me on both sides, and curious artists watched me sprint past. I paid them no mind, instead reaching out with my senses, trying to find another source of magic like the one that had just assaulted me.

The magic had been fickle, teasing. Tiny fragments instead of a solid wave. That had only happened to me a few times before, when I was first learning to enchant. When my enchantments were poorly constructed and let magic bleed off.

Someone had enchanted something nearby, and had done a poor job of it.

The enchantress was here, in the park or just outside it.

Booths blurred by, a never-ending stream of paintings, embroidery, sculpture, and floral arrangements. Colors of every hue and tint formed a loud backdrop to my search. _Come on,_ I thought. _Where are you?_

kadum ... kadum ... kadum ...

The park's ambient magic drummed along serenely, a steady beat. No one was gathering it. Also no sign of the strange bleed-off magic I had sensed earlier. Wherever the enchantress was, she'd already dealt with the magic assaulting her, and wasn't currently using more. I wouldn't be able to sense her whereabouts unless she performed another enchantment. By the time she needed to do so, I guessed she'd be long gone.

I cursed, then turned to trot back to the Crafter's Haven booth.

At a table to my left, a woman moaned.

I froze. Slowly I pivoted toward her table, trying to keep my movements casual while still taking a good look at her. She was in her late twenties, a little older than me. Mousy brown hair, dark grey eyes, with a pleasantly round face. She was grimacing, her elbows propped on a table displaying a dozen still life paintings.

Deciding to take a risk, I sidled up to her table. "Are you okay?"

She squinted up at me. "Sorry. I don't mean to be dramatic. I think I'm getting a migraine. My head just started hurting suddenly."

"Do you get migraines?"

"No. But what else could it be?"

What else indeed. There was one way to know for sure. On the pretense of helping the woman relax, I touched her bare hand.

No drumming. No buzzing.

She wasn't enchanted. And she probably wasn't my enchantress.

Puzzled, I sucked in some of the nearby magic, enough to feel it buzz but not enough to hurt.

kadumkadumkadumkadum

"Ugh." The woman dropped her head into her hands again. "There it goes again."

I removed my hand from her skin. "Do you want some water?"

"No ... no, it's getting better now. Thanks." She squinted at me, shading her eyes from the sun. "Are you a vendor here?"

I pointed up the aisle. "Crafter's Haven. We're a supply store, but I do my own art, too."

"Fun. I'll have to come look at your supplies."

A chilly voice spoke behind me. "Is this a friend of yours?"

I turned. Maribel stood there with a painted-on smile. Her teeth gleamed. "Aren't you going to introduce me, Adrienne?"

I glared daggers at her as I put on my own fake smile. "Just recruiting new business for the store. That's all." I certainly wasn't about to tell Maribel that this woman was a minor enchantress, able to sense magical stirrings. If the poor painter never had to deal with the Voids, she'd be a lucky woman.

The woman offered to sell Maribel a painting, but Maribel was more interested in following me as I made my way back to Haven's booth. "You got Desmond. What do you want now?" I growled.

"You ran off suddenly there. And it looked like you did some magic."

"A sudden wave of it hit me. I had to channel it, or risk going insane. You want to make necessary magic illegal now, too?"

"If only I could. Why did you run away afterward? Afraid of justice finding you?"

I stopped and glowered at her. "I had to throw up, and I didn't want to do it in our booth. You want me to show you where I puked? Let you sniff around in it?"

Anger flared in Maribel's eyes. She shoved me so I staggered back a pace. "Watch yourself, witch."

"You seem to be doing a good enough job watching already. Maybe you should be harassing Desmond instead. Or did he get away from you again?"

Maribel's fingers curled.

"Go on," I hissed. "Shift, right here, in front of all the normals. I bet Bane Harrow would love that. His star Hunter, being the one to expose the paranormal world."

Her hands shook.

Then they relaxed.

She pointed at me. "This isn't over."

"Goody. I hate abrupt endings."

With a snarl, she whirled and stormed off down the aisle.

Suddenly exhausted, I made my way back to the Crafter's Haven booth. Kendall waved the beer bottle at me. "This is neat! The faerie hides whenever I try to get a good look at her. It's like having a magical pet, without the responsibility."

"Glad the product of my pain entertains you." I slumped into my chair.

Kendall frowned, then slid the bottle under the other seat, where it couldn't be stepped on. "What happened?"

I told her all of it, from the wave of skittish magic to my encounter with Maribel. "I was so close," I said. "If I could have been faster—"

"You would have started a magical battle in the middle of the park in broad daylight. Not a smart move." Kendall tapped a finger on top of my head.

I brushed her hand away. "I know. It wasn't my brightest moment. Hopefully this doesn't ruin the entire day."

"That's up to you, girl. Put on a smile. I think we have company."

I looked up. A teenager with chin-length blonde hair was standing in the middle of our three tables, clutching a sketchbook to her chest.

"Sam!" I said, brightening. "What are you doing here?"

She blushed. "I came to look at art supplies, and when I got the map of the festival I saw you had a booth. I thought I'd come say hi."

"Is that your art?" I asked, nodding to the book.

Her flush deepened. "Oh. Yes, but, I mean, you don't need to look at it."

"No, I could use a distraction." I held out my hands. Reluctantly Sam handed the book over.

I flipped through pencil sketches of gowns, both ornate and simple. There was a page of just eyes, and a page of hands. Rough outlines of faces. Charcoal drawings of swords, with their names and the movies they came from listed beneath. A colored pencil drawing of a red dragon wheeling in mid-flight, flames spouting from its mouth. Another of an open book with runic writing. A wizard dueling some sort of black-winged monster on a bridge in a cave. A woman in an open-backed gown with a magical orb in her hand, her expression forlorn.

"These are good," I said, flipping back to the drawing of the dragon. "Really good."

Sam brightened. "You think so?"

"Where did you learn this?"

"Just practice, mostly. Sometimes I look up tutorials online. I took the art class at my high school, but it was pretty basic stuff."

"You should keep drawing. At this rate, you could make a career out of it."

A smile spread on Sam's face. "Thank you."

I closed the book and handed it back to her. "Thanks for letting me see."

She hugged the book to her chest again and lowered her voice. "If it's all right, I wanted to ask you another question."

"Of course." I herded her toward the back of the booth, where certain mountain lion shifters couldn't sneak up on us. "What is it?"

"You said it's dangerous to get enchanted. Is that because of the magic running through you, or ...?"

"Not exactly. When magic runs through you, it's called being a channel. That hurts, but living people can contain a lot of magic. Being a channel can kill you, but it would take a huge amount of power. The dangerous part is when the enchantment is put on you. If it's done wrong ..."

"It drives you crazy?"

"Yes. Or worse. The more enchantments on someone, the more precise future enchantments have to be, so the more things can go wrong. Same thing for being the enchantment's channel and target at the same time. The more involved you are with the magic, the more dangerous it gets." I sighed. "Please tell me you're not still considering becoming a Seeker."

Her cheeks colored. "I just thought if I was careful—"

"No, Sam. There is no careful. You promised me you wouldn't keep looking into this. Please keep that promise."

Her chin dropped to her book. "Okay."

I tried to smile. "I'm sorry. I've had a long day. I don't mean to take it out on you."

She swallowed. "If it's okay, can I ask one more thing?"

I nodded.

"The way you made my drawing move ... would you show me again? On this one?" She opened the sketchbook to the picture of the flying dragon.

My smile became genuine. "I would love to."

Sam's visit was the start of a good day of art and business. I sold a few dozen pieces. After taxes and the cost of supplies, they netted me almost three hundred dollars. Added to the hundred from Mrs. Jacinta, I was over a third of the way toward paying my fine to the Union.

Desmond didn't come back to the booth, and when I called him he irritably told me and Kendall to pack up and go home. He'd get a ride later from someone in the Union. My heart felt heavier as Kendall and I loaded everything back into her truck, but I tried to think positively. I had a lead on the enchantress, and money in my wallet. Neither problem was solved, but I was making progress. That had to count for something.

Kendall and I unloaded everything at the store, leaving Desmond's woodwork in the back for him to sort out the next day. He wouldn't mind either of us touching his work, but I considered it a professional courtesy not to handle other people's art more than necessary. Even if they were ham-handed troglodytes. I grinned. I'd have to use that one on Desmond next time I saw him.

Worry set in as I rehung my unsold pieces. What if the enchantress had seen me chasing her through the fair? What if I'd spooked her, and now she'd run away and never be found? What if Maribel managed to convince others that it had been me all along? What if, what if, what if. Questions pounded in my brain, as unnerving as magic on my skin.

Kendall stopped by my workspace after she restocked the supplies from the fair. "I'm beat. Want to get coffee? My treat. My scholarship just came in for next quarter. I have to stop by That Place on the Corner first, though. I left my wallet there again."

"Thanks, but I should probably work. I just sold most of my pieces, and I still need to come up with more money."

"Your loss." Kendall hopped over the counter and headed for the door. "By the way, you should probably hide that haunted pinwheel you made. Shoppers will flip their shit if they think you can make perpetual motion machines."

"It's not a—"

"I know. Geez, Adrienne, relax." She cocked her head. "You sure you don't want coffee? You could use a break."

I shook my head. "I'm fine. Just a little wound up." I forced a smile. "Go on. I'll see you tomorrow."

With a shrug and a sympathetic grin, Kendall let herself out. She locked the door behind her, then shook it to make sure it stayed shut. The bells over the door jingled with the force of her yanking. I kept an eye on her until she made it to her truck.

My enchanted pinwheel went into a box under the counter, alongside a few other products of enchantment. A box of beads suspended halfway between solid and liquid. A picture frame that would never need dusting. A permanent marker that smelled perpetually of bacon. I'd been a little drunk when I made that last one.

I collected the wooden cube and other items Kendall had brought me from the store yesterday and carried them to the register, where I dumped them in the basket of go-backs to be returned to the shelves. Cleanup finished, I returned to my workspace and contemplated what sort of art to make. I didn't have a lot of clothing on my display beam right now, so I headed out into the store, picking up t-shirts, dye, embroidery thread, zippers, and metal grommets. The tags went to one side so Desmond could add the items to my supplies tab, and I lost myself in work.

After a few hours I had made solid progress on half a dozen shirts, cutting and sewing to redesign their silhouettes. I had a good amount of hemming to do before I could start decorating them, though, and my hands were starting to feel sluggish. Time to call it a night. Besides, it was a full moon tonight, and the restaurants down the shopping center were likely to start getting rowdy if I stayed much later.

As I let myself out into the parking lot, I eyed the alleyway next to the pet store. No glowing eyes. No moving shadows. I made it halfway to my car before a gleam of light from the alley froze me in my tracks. Feline eyes reflected the full moon. Huge amber eyes, with irises round for the hunt.

I swallowed. My car was alone in the parking lot. The closest people were at the other end of the center, surrounded by noise and music. A hell of a lot could happen down here, and no one would notice. My hand tightened around my purse, inching toward my enchanted jewelry within. "Hello, Maribel," I said with as much bravado as I could muster.

The eyes receded into the darkness. A moment later, Maribel emerged from the alley, dressed in covert-ops black. She made no effort to hide the gun tucked inside her jacket, nor the knife folded in her pocket. "Thought you'd be home after your long day. What are you doing out so late?"

"Working."

"On what?"

"None of your business."

"Your suspicious activity _is_ my business. I'm your Union handler."

Oh goody. I supposed I had Bane Harrow to thank for that. Just another tactic to push me into working for him. I sighed. "I was making new pieces for my shop. Since you people want a bunch of my money, I have to earn it somehow."

She stalked over to me, eying my purse. "Drop the bag and turn out your pockets."

"I don't have to—"

She stepped close, her face inches from mine. "Give me a reason to fight you," she hissed. "This isn't the park. Nobody's around. Any reason. No matter how small, I'll take it. I'll bury you."

Magic danced in the air, cavorting in the moonlight. I let it skate across my skin, felt it waiting to obey my will. "We don't know for sure how that fight would go."

"I would love to find out."

I seriously considered attacking, giving her the magical battle she wanted. If I struck first, I was fairly sure I could cripple her before she could shift. But Desmond's warning echoed in my mind. If I harmed Maribel, even in self-defense, I would have the Union hunting me the rest of my likely short life.

It took all of my willpower, but I set down my bag and emptied my pockets. I prayed a silent thanks that I had left the pinwheel in the store. No need to explain what it was or where I'd gotten the magic for it.

Maribel poked through my things, including Sam's disenchanted bracelet. "I don't know what you're looking for," I said, "but there aren't any eyes of newt or toes of frog in there."

She shot me a glare. "I'm looking for evidence."

"There's none of that, either." At least, not anymore.

"You've made a mistake somewhere, enchantress. I'm going to find it."

Oh, for the love of ... "I haven't done anything wrong."

"Tell that to the victims."

"You mean the people in the barn?"

Maribel rolled her eyes.

My breath caught as something clicked into place. "Wait. You're talking about new victims, aren't you? That's what Desmond was hiding. More people have been found enchanted."

Maribel's cheeks flushed, and I knew I'd read her correctly. "How many? Where were they? What kind of magic—"

"Don't play dumb with me, witch."

"I'm trying to help. If you tell me what you've found—"

"I'm not telling you anything." She threw my purse back at me, so hard I took a step back. Something stuck out of the pocket, a business card with a number and email. "That's my official contact info," said Maribel. "Best do your Union check-ins and try to behave. Harrow and Desoto may believe your act, but you're under my eye now. It may not be today, it may not be tomorrow, but someday, you're going to slip up and expose what you really are. I'll be waiting for that day, and the moment I turn you in, I'll have done the world a service."

With that she turned and stormed back down the alley until she was eclipsed by shadows.

# Chapter 19

THERE WAS AN EMAIL waiting for me from Bane Harrow. Subject: Higher Pay for Job Offer. I slammed my laptop shut and considered hurling it across the room. Unfortunately I couldn't afford to replace it if it broke.

Instead I brewed a pot of lemon tea and rummaged in my mini fridge until I came up with some leftover rice and fish. I heated them in the microwave and stared at the half-tire on my worktable as I ate. It still wasn't speaking to me, and in my agitated state I didn't think I was capable of making anything beautiful anyway.

When I'd calmed down enough to avoid smashing anything, I returned to my laptop and began hunting for the message boards frequented by the enchantress. Kendall turned out to be right. Of the dozen boards I found, seven used a red-and-black color scheme. Four of those had buttons labeled "reply," "new," and "refresh." None of them matched the font and design I'd seen in the vision from the bracelet. Still, I poked around in the various online discussions, hoping some stray comment would provide a lead.

An hour went by before I realized I'd re-read the same paragraph three times without absorbing it. The long day and the confrontation with Maribel had tired me. I needed rest. Reluctantly, I closed my computer. The internet would still be there in the morning.

Sleep was a long time coming that night. I lay in bed, wondering about the new victims Maribel had accidentally revealed. How many people? Who were they? Had the enchantress found them on the arcane message boards? Why these victims? Why did the enchantress have so much magic that she needed so many? Even if I found her, would I be able to defeat her? My faceless foe loomed in my thoughts like a cloud hanging over my bed.

Finally I drifted off. Smoke and fire and haunting laughter troubled my dreams.

Dawn streamed through my window, pounding my eyelids like an unwelcome houseguest. I groaned and pressed a pillow over my face, cursing myself for forgetting to close the shades. Well, I was up now. No fixing that. I drank the rest of my now-cold lemon tea and brought a bag of plantain chips and a thermos of shrimp soup with me to Crafter's Haven. Desmond opened at nine on weekdays, and I wanted to have some of my new shirts on display when the first shoppers came in.

Neither Desmond nor Kendall were in yet, so I went to my shop and turned on the overhead string lights, though the natural sun through the windows provided enough light to work. I pounded metal grommets into one of the shirts and threaded velvet ribbon through them to make laced sleeves. By the time I finished, it was 9:15. Still no sign of my friends.

Frowning, I pulled out my phone. No texts, no voicemail. I called Desmond and got his inbox. Same with Kendall. Where were they?

When 9:30 came and I had to turn a customer away from the store, I became truly worried. I locked up and drove to Desmond's apartment. He lived in a one-bedroom flat on the bottom floor of a big complex. Handmade wood furniture, stained and sealed, sat on his patio alongside a huge cross-section of a tree he used as an outdoor table. I hopped his patio fence and rapped on the sliding glass door. "Desmond!" I called. "You in there?" No reply.

Peering inside, I made out an unfinished bowl of cereal on the table, alongside a dog-eared spy thriller and a pile of unopened mail. Dishes piled in the sink. Video game controllers scattered on the table and couch. Shoes strewn haphazardly on the floor. I grimaced. Though his woodshop was always pristine, Desmond was a slob at home. This was why we never hung out at his place.

After I knocked a few more times and he didn't answer, I concluded he was out. Probably doing something on Union business. With another grimace, I returned to my car and drove to Kendall's.

Kendall lived with four other girls in a gorgeous piece of historic architecture. The house was built in the 1920s and featured three stories, a circular balcony topped by a spire, marble pillars supporting a gigantic porch, and honest-to-god lions flanking the brick walkway. It was also falling apart inside, which was why they could afford to rent it. No air conditioning, no dishwasher, and the wood floors had last been refinished when the space race was undecided.

I rang the doorbell, and after several minutes one of Kendall's roommates answered. She had black hair dyed blue at the tips, cut in a pixie style. Coupled with her button nose and big eyes, she looked like a videogame character. I didn't know her real name, but she was a theater kid and the other girls called her Ophelia.

"Hey," I said. "Is Kendall here? She's late for work."

Ophelia cocked her head. "Oh. I thought she stayed the night at your place."

A cold fist clenched in my gut. "She didn't come home?"

"No. At least, she wasn't here when I went to bed or when I got up. Since she was gone the night before, too, I thought you guys were having a work party or something."

"I haven't seen her since yesterday evening."

Ophelia shrugged. "She might be at office hours? It's finals, so everybody's studying."

"Thanks. I'll check." I was already backing down the walkway, thoughts churning. Kendall was almost certainly not at office hours. Putting aside that she'd be skipping work, something she wouldn't do, Kendall hated studying and always procrastinated until the night before. If she wasn't at work and wasn't at home, something was wrong.

Nervous fingers scrabbled inside my stomach as I called Desmond again. Still no answer. I left a message insisting he call me, then sat in my car and stared at my phone. I had one more number I could call, one more person who might have some idea of where Kendall was, someone whose job it was to keep track of paranormals. She might deign to give me some information, if I could stomach the idea of asking for her help. And if she didn't just start yelling at me instead.

Gritting my teeth, I pulled Maribel's business card from my purse and called the number printed on it. As it rang I read the rest of the card. "Maribel Kilby. Standard Systems Ltd. Personnel Supervisor." I rolled my eyes and wrote "and executioner" on the end of her job title with a red pen.

Finally a voice said, "Maribel Kilby. Leave a message." The phone beeped. I ended the call. Contacting her had been optimistic anyway.

_Don't panic,_ I thought. There was an easy way to track Kendall down. I drove back to the store and found a duct tape penguin sculpture Kendall had made to decorate the bathroom. I plucked it off the shelf and brought it to my crafting table, where I quickly set up a tracking enchantment, using the penguin as a focus, a red ribbon as a channel, and a silver necklace with an amethyst rhinestone pendant as a target. I drew in some of the magic in the air and chanted, _Find the person who made this art. Point in her direction. Guide me her way._

Power swirled into the penguin, gaining a sense of Kendall's essence, the part of herself she had put into her art. Then the magic flowed through the ribbon and into the necklace. Once the magic finished channeling, I picked up the necklace, waiting for it to spin so its pendant pointed in a particular direction.

The amethyst spun, round and round, the necklace lazily untwisting and retwisting. It showed no sign of stopping. Impatient, I unwound it and held the pendant steady, pointing toward the back of the store. When I released it, the amethyst continued to point at the rear wall. Frowning, I turned so the pendant aimed at the glass doors. It held steady, pointing whichever way I aimed it, with no inclination to turn itself.

The enchantment wasn't working.

Either I'd done it wrong—but the magic drumming inside the necklace made that unlikely—or Kendall was in a place with too much ambient magic, and it was confusing the tracking enchantment.

Bottom line, I couldn't use magic to find her.

Now thoroughly worried, I returned to my car and traced the route Kendall would have taken to That Place On The Corner. No sign of her. I went inside, scooting between a few oldsters there for the early bird lunch.

Near the kitchen entrance I found the server I was looking for. "Cameron!" I called. The dark-skinned young man turned and smiled when he saw me. Cameron was a high school senior, and one of those super-driven people who would definitely become CEO of something. He was on the varsity baseball team, played clarinet in the band, and it was a tossup whether he'd be valedictorian or salutatorian. Desmond, Kendall, and I always left him a good tip for his college fund, and he repaid us with stellar service.

"How's it going?" he asked when I came close enough to chat.

"Did Kendall come by here last night?" I asked breathlessly.

He frowned. "You okay?"

"Fine. Just tell me if Kendall came back to get her wallet."

"Yeah. She dropped in around eight. She'd left a tin of mints and a thing of hand sanitizer too, so I set all her stuff in a takeout bag in the back."

"Did she seem all right? Was she with anybody?"

"No, she was by herself." Cameron folded his arms, looking thoughtful. "But now that you mention it, she did seem a little weird. I thought she was just tired, since all of you looked beat the other night, but when I gave her back her stuff, she mumbled something about horses. I asked what she meant, thinking you guys were doing some kind of project, but she just left. She looked dazed."

"Horses," I muttered. I had a feeling I knew where she had gone. What I didn't know was why. "Thanks, Cameron."

"No problem. What's going on?"

"Hopefully nothing." I tried to give him a reassuring smile. "Kendall's been stressed. Finals are getting to her."

The concern in his eyes eased. "Yeah, I know that feeling."

"Good luck," I said, retreating toward the door. He waved as he opened the door to the kitchen.

I returned to my car and drove toward the freeway, wondering what could have possessed Kendall to return to the abandoned ranch, and why she hadn't come home afterward.

The dilapidated "for sale" sign was gone when I arrived. The ancient wooden gate was barred shut across the entry, the rusty metal K still hanging from it by a whisper. I peered down the dirt road to where a corner of the barn peeked out between overgrown fields. I could just see a bit of sticker-covered truck fender poking from behind it. Kendall.

Leaving my car on the side of the road, I hopped the fence and hurried toward the barn. I hadn't reorganized my purse or swapped out the enchanted gear carried in it, but I fished around inside and came up with my shield ring, a ring that would create fog, a bracelet for reducing my perception of pain, and a necklace that would wrap around and trap anything I threw it at. It wasn't a well-composed arsenal, but it would have to do if the enchantress had—

I rounded the barn and skidded to a halt. A hub of activity buzzed around Kendall's truck, men and women rushing here and there, talking and pointing. Caution tape marked off a broad area next to Kendall's open driver-side door. Someone was dusting the door for fingerprints. Someone else was collecting samples of the dirt.

At first I took them for police. Then the lack of uniforms and the quiet, furtive way they spoke sank in. When I spotted a familiar face, I knew for certain this squad came from the Void Union. "Axel!" I shouted.

Bane Harrow's bald bodyguard turned. His eyebrows rose when he saw me. He sprinted across the yard, ducked under the caution tape, and took me by the arm. "Get out of here."

"What's going on? Where's Kendall?"

"The Union will handle this."

"The enchantress got her, didn't she? Kendall's been abducted."

"It's none of your business."

"It is my business!" I wrenched my arm free, drawing stares from the other Voids. "A rogue magic user has taken my best friend! I've been trying to help this whole time and you keep blocking me. Now it's personal. You have to let me into your investigation."

"No," said Axel simply. "We don't."

"Where's Desmond? Let me talk to him."

"Desoto is busy."

"But he is here."

Axel grimaced. "Run away, girl. Stay out of this." He ducked back under the caution tape.

"What if I agree to work for your boss?" I asked suddenly, surprising even myself. "What if I took Bane Harrow's job offer?"

Axel paused. "That's up to him."

"Great. Call him."

"He's not available."

Of course he wasn't. "But what if—"

"Get lost." Axel stalked back across the yard and disappeared around the far side of the barn. Several Voids near the perimeter kept wary eyes on me, no doubt ready to stop me from following.

I headed back down the road, cursing under my breath. The crime scene disappeared behind me, obscured by the barn and tangled fields. Wind whipped through the chest-high grass and blew dust into my eyes. I rubbed the grit out of them and stopped to think.

Desmond was here somewhere. Axel had all but admitted it. Desmond might be Union, but Kendall was his friend, too. He'd tell me what was going on.

I crouched and crept into the grass. With my short stature, I didn't even have to crawl to lose myself in the overgrown plants. I picked my way toward the far edge of the field, pausing to don my sensory ring and listen to the bits of chatter drifting from the Union investigators. The words "abduction" and "fleshwriter" confirmed my fears. They had reached the same conclusion I had about Kendall's whereabouts.

The field bordered a neighbor's cherry orchard, divided by a hedge of thick evergreen shrubs. On the other side of the trees, little red fruits bedecked the trees and studded the dirt below. On my side, white paint flaked off an aged wooden fence separating the field where I hid from the rest of the property. I crouched by one of the fence posts and peered through the rest of the unkempt grass. From here I could see everything behind the stable. Hitching posts and decrepit wooden benches lined the stable's rear wall. A small, empty hovel constructed of wire mesh looked like it had once held chickens. In the distance more fencing marked off a dirt ring for exercising horses and a broad sand arena for riding. Gravel covered a wide open area between me and the arena. The Voids had set up their activities here. Half a dozen cars were parked on one side of the gravel patch. Beside them, a folding table held an array of bagged evidence. Little numbered flags poked from the ground throughout the area, like photos I'd seen of crime scenes. People hurried here and there, carrying evidence or huddling together to talk and point at important-looking clipboards.

The Union knew how to appear as a legit police force, I'd give them that. If any of the neighbors poked their heads through the hedge, they'd think these people came from the sheriff. They'd assume all was under control and overlook the stranger things happening. Things like the not-quite-humans being moved from the stable.

Axel supervised a group of Voids dragging a metal water tub out through one of the open-air stalls. The fish-like woman still sat in the tub, glassy eyes staring straight ahead. Behind the stable, the crazed wolf-man-thing clawed at a muzzle and fought against the harness restraining him to a hitching post. The remaining enchanted creatures were caged, and in various states of distress. One of the Voids was quietly stroking the head of one of the horned former-kitten-things.

Several minutes crept past while I watched. No sign of Desmond. Either he really wasn't here, or he was inside the stable. I slipped back into the field and wove my way to the outside stalls I had used to sneak in before. Crouched by the stall door, I listened to muffled voices, catching words like "victims," "lair," and "abduction."

Finally in the midst of the quiet dialogues, a familiar voice rose. "She's my friend!" Desmond insisted. "If we can't do anything ..." Someone hushed him, and his voice dropped too quiet to hear.

I had to get a signal to him. I rummaged in my purse until I found a glitter pen and a scrap of cardstock. I drew a glue gun in orange glitter, fanned it dry, and waited until the voices moved to the other side of the building. Then I slipped the card under the stall door and waited some more.

Metal creaked as the Voids pulled open the stable door. Footsteps pattered outside, and the door slammed with a rattle of dusty wood. I waited in silence, holding my breath. When the stall door swung suddenly open, I jumped about three feet.

Desmond held up my glittered message. "Subtle."

I tried to smile, but couldn't conjure one. "Is Kendall dead?"

"I don't know." He clenched his fist around the cardstock. "Nobody knows. The Union bought the ranch so they could deal with the captives in the barn. When they came in, Kendall's car was here. Her footprints led to another set of tire tracks that drive off and end at the road. She's gone."

"No!" My own vehemence caught me off guard. I lowered my voice. "Can they track the car that took her?"

"No. They have no idea what they're doing. They haven't even figured out the identities of these enchanted victims. All this activity is just bluster." Bitterness colored Desmond's tone.

I swallowed. "I can do something."

"They won't let you."

"Just don't tell them. What Maribel doesn't know won't hurt Kendall."

"Maribel's not even here. I'm guessing Harrow pulled her off the assignment because it was getting too personal. But it doesn't matter. Axel and the others aren't going to help an enchantress, even if it's the only chance we have to find Kendall. Axel's not a bad man. He does whatever he sees as the right thing. But he thinks the right thing is avoiding you as much as possible."

"Then you have to help me." He tensed, and I hurried my words. "Please, Desmond. It's me. I know you had to keep me in the dark about the other victims—"

"You know about them?"

"Maribel let it slip."

He cursed. "It wasn't too bad. Just a couple sorority girls who wandered onto the ranch during a game of capture the flag. They picked up some of the leftover enchanting gear, and it backfired on them. One has a nasty case of acne, and the other lost feeling in her left hand. We think the magic will wear off eventually. We've locked up the rest of what the enchantress left behind, where it can't hurt anyone."

"That's good. But it's not enough. Now that the enchantress has taken Kendall, I doubt she's coming back here. We need to track her down. I'm the only one who can do it."

"Axel won't—"

"I'm not talking to Axel. I'm talking to Desmond." I reached up to squeeze his shoulder. "You know me. You know I won't use magic to hurt others. Kendall's life is at stake. Trust me." _Choose me,_ I silently urged. _Choose me over them._

Desmond's gaze drifted to the barn door, toward where his own kind puttered around outside. His eyes lingered briefly, then flicked back to me, resolute. "All right. What do you need?"

I exhaled. "The bit of bear claw you pulled from my shoulder. Do you still have it?"

"No, but I know where to find it."

"Get it for me. It's time to demand some answers."

# Chapter 20

DESMOND RETURNED with the bit of Shifty Pete's bear claw in a sealed evidence bag. I didn't ask how he'd gotten it away from the other Voids, but assumed it had involved a good deal of sneaking around near their evidence table outside.

While waiting, I had prepared my enchantment. My own hair as a channel, and an unenchanted bracelet as a target—a wide band of silver bedecked with a sun-shaped design of amber rhinestones.

The evidence bag ripped easily, and Desmond shook the claw out into my hand. I set it on the ground beside the bracelet, then finished twining the hairs I'd plucked into a tiny braid.

"You're gonna go bald if you keep enchanting like this," Desmond said.

"It's okay, I'll just ask Axel for style tips," I shot back. I smiled. We were doing something, helping Kendall together, and it had given my mood a huge boost. I lay the thin braid across the claw and the sunburst on the bracelet, then pulled another bracelet from my purse.

With Voids everywhere, very little magic hung in the barn. Instead I'd chosen to tap one of my already-enchanted articles, an enchantment designed to help me find my car in big parking lots. Locater magic, inclined toward seeking and searching.

Breathe in, breathe out. My eyes closed, sinking me into concentration. I drew the finder enchantment from the bracelet— _kadumkadumkadum_ —and focused it on the claw, steeping it in Shifty Pete's essence, the part of his soul that had chosen the form of a bear. _Find this man,_ I chanted. _Guide me to him._ Eager, its purpose redoubled, the magic channeled through the hair and into the sunburst on the new bracelet.

My hair channel smoldered on the dirt floor before me. I tossed some dust on it to quench the sparks, then cautiously picked up the enchanted bracelet and slid it onto my arm. After my failure to track Kendall, I feared this enchantment wouldn't work either, but Shifty Pete's location wasn't being clouded by too much magic. Immediately the bracelet rotated so the sunburst angled toward the stable door. I turned 180 degrees, and the bracelet rotated so it continued to point in the same direction.

Relief eased the tension in my heart. I had a lead. "I'm going to find the shifter who attacked us and make him tell me where the enchantress is."

"I'll go with you."

"No. He knows you're a Void. If you show up, he'll be afraid to talk. Besides, you need to stay here to avoid suspicion."

I turned to go. Desmond caught my hand. Pressing it between his palms, he stepped close to me. His sawdust and sandalwood aroma wafted over me, making my heart flutter. "Promise you won't go fight the enchantress without me."

I breathed deep. His face waited inches from mine. If I stood on my toes, I could reach his lips. My weight shifted forward. I rose toward him, my hand warm in his.

Someone pounded on the barn door. "Desoto!"

Desmond muttered a curse and shoved me into the shadows on the far side of the building. Just in time, too, because a heartbeat later the door burst open and Axel strode in. "What are you doing?"

"Thinking," said Desmond.

"Think outside."

"Will do." Desmond moved to step around Axel, but the big man stuck out an arm and blocked him.

Eyes narrow, Axel squinted at the floor. "What's that?"

My breath caught. The remnants of my enchantment lay on the floor, the thin braid of my hair still giving off wisps of smoke.

Desmond looked at it, and his honest face could hide nothing. Axel glowered at him. "Where is she?"

"Uh, who?"

Axel raised his voice. "Miss Morales, come out now."

I didn't move.

"She already left," Desmond said quickly. My eyes closed. He was such a bad liar.

Axel's eyes began searching the darkness. "This was unnecessary magic," he said. "We're going to need to ask you some questions, Miss Morales. It'll be easier if you cooperate."

Crap. I knew what that meant—he wanted to arrest me again. If I surrendered, I'd be held up for hours. Possibly for the rest of my life, if Bane Harrow decided I was more trouble than I was worth. I had to escape, now. In a normal situation, I'd have flung my trapping necklace at Axel and then used my fog ring to hide my exit, but neither of those enchantments would work on a Void. I needed to create a distraction, something not born of magic.

Smoke continued to drift up from the singed hair. I fished in my bag and pulled out a ring at random, unable to see them in the darkness. Axel shifted his weight, and Desmond did the same, looking like he was about to start a fight. I closed my hand around the ring and drew in its magic.

KadumKadumKadumKadum

The ring I'd chosen had a battle enchantment that projected an aura of confusion. When active, everybody within ten paces of me would feel distracted, a little uncertain of what they were doing. But now I'd drawn the magic in, and its purpose turned against me instead. Instantly my thoughts muddled, and I fought to remember what I was trying to do. Enchanting ... I was enchanting something. Something smoking. Fire. I wanted to set my hair on fire. Except not the hair on my head. That would be silly. It was the hair on the ground, the hair I'd used as a magical channel already. Not on my head. Silly.

Grinning as if at a private joke, I extended my hands toward the remnants of my tracking enchantment. Channeling magic from this far away was difficult, and the magic made my fingers spark with pins and needles as it left me. An ache spread up my arm as I used the hair as both focus and channel, sending as much of the magic into it as I could. Far more than the hair could handle.

Flame burst into being, consuming the hair and spurting sparks that lodged in the dry wood of the barn. Axel cursed and leapt back. Desmond leapt the other way. Dense smoke billowed up, choking the air and deepening the darkness. As the magic left my body, the confusion in my head cleared. I used the distraction to burst from my cover and dart back out into the open-air stalls. Behind me, Axel shouted for backup. I snatched a ring of coordination from my bag, slipped it on my pinkie, and then went into a slide as I approached the metal fence. I skidded under the lowest rung and was up running a second later, sprinting through the overgrown field.

My arm still tingled, half-numb from casting the enchantment at a distance. I shook it, willing feeling back into my fingers. I chanced a look over my shoulder. Smoke poured out the open stall door behind me, backed by glimmers of yellow flame. A moment later something smothered the flickering sparks. Axel and Desmond must have gotten the fire under control.

KADUMKADUMKADUM

The magic bought me escape, but it had been a haphazard job. I'd used the hair as focus and channel, but I'd had no target to hold the magic afterward. After escaping the hair, it now gravitated toward its last home. Me. I felt it chasing me, slamming against me, bringing bursts of terrifying confusion before receding again, aching for me to channel it and give it purpose. I pushed it away as I ran, fending off the waves pounding my mind. I couldn't stop and channel the magic right now, not with the Voids right behind me. If I let any of it in, it would try to fulfill its last purpose, confusing me and making me an easy target.

I threw myself into my car and keyed the ignition, peeling out and screaming down the country road before any Voids managed to round the barn. All the while the magic pursued me.

KADUMKADUMKADUMKADUM

Where was I? Why was I driving a narrow road in the middle of nowhere? I frowned at my rearview mirror. Was that smoke? Somebody should call the fire de—

The magic receded. My thoughts came back into focus. I ripped open my glove box and rummaged blindly inside, fighting to keep my car on the correct side of the road.

KADUMKADUMKADUM

Goodness, my glove box was messy. I really needed to clean it, though I didn't know why I'd decided to do so while driving—wait. I was looking for something. Something important. The magic. I had to channel the magic.

My fingers closed on a tin of mints and a pack of tissues. I dropped the tin on the passenger's seat and tore the tissue pack open. I squirmed in my seat until I could maneuver the disenchanted confusion ring out of my pocket, then dropped that next to the mints.

KADUMKADUMKADUM

Who left these mints and that ring on my passenger seat?

The magic. Channel the magic. Focus, Adrienne!

KADUMKADUMKADUM

The magic pounded on me, forcing its way in like cockroaches squirming through a wall. A thousand distractions floated through my mind, whispering questions whose answers eluded me. My brain muddled through sludge, each decision an agony. I opened one tissue and dropped it over the ring and the mints. _Be contained,_ I chanted, unable to summon better words. _Be held._

The confusion magic swirled into the tin, focused there by my thoughts, then channeled through the tissue into the ring. Before the magic even finished channeling, I could feel it bleeding back out of the ring. This enchantment wouldn't take hold. The materials weren't right, and the magic wasn't inclined to its new purpose of sitting still. It leaked from the ring and crawled right back at me.

KadumKadumKadum

My enchantment wouldn't use up the magic, but it had bought me a few minutes. While the magic fought to escape its prison, I searched for a turnoff, somewhere I could hide from the Union and channel the magic into a more permanent container. Unfortunately the road was too straight, and every turnoff led onto private property. I sped back toward the freeway, knuckles white as I gripped the wheel and tried to ignore the magic's drum growing stronger.

Gravel turned to asphalt and the country road faded into suburban homes. I slowed, merging into the loose stream of commuters and errand runners. My eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, but nothing pursued me. Not yet, anyway. I was relieved to not see smoke plumes clouding the sky. The fire hadn't spread.

KADUM. KADUM. KADUM.

Whispers of confusion tickled my mind. Points of pain flared behind my eyes. I pulled into the first parking lot I found—a gas station—and stumbled out of the car. People stared as I clutched a streetlight post and forced myself to breathe. _Focus, Adrienne. Get rid of the magic._

If I was in my workshop, I would channel the magic into a novelty maze I won at a carnival, a cheap plastic thing where you guide a tiny metal ball through narrow passages. But that was at Crafter's Haven, and I didn't trust myself to drive that far in this state. Not without getting into a wreck, or at least getting pulled over.

The maze gave me an idea, though. I staggered to my car's passenger side, wrenched the door open, and leaned over the seat. _Maze,_ I thought. _Maze, maze, maze._ The mantra fended off the confusion enough for me to find a piece of paper and a blue highlighter in the glove box.

"Are you okay?" someone asked. I gave a noncommittal grunt and spread the paper on the dash, then started to draw.

Lines took shape, neat lines that curved and turned in parallel corridors. I let my hand lead, drawing turns and twists, alternate paths and dead ends. When I finished I looked at my work. I'd drawn my enchantment tattoo, my hand tracing the familiar design by instinct.

It would do. On another sheet of paper I quickly drew a big blue question mark. I yanked my phone charger out of its port in the CD console and laid it on the seat with one end touching the maze and the other touching the question mark. Then I grabbed the ring, its magic still leaking, and breathed in what was left. At the same time I opened myself to the magic battering me and let it inside.

KADUMKADUMKADUMKADUM

I winced as the magic pounded inside my brain, murdering my ability to concentrate. Pain burned in my eye sockets, and I pressed my knuckles against them. How had I let the magic get this bad? Why had I been so careless? Usually I channeled it long before it got to this point. Enchantment. I had to make an enchantment somehow ...

Opening my eyes, I was surprised to see the materials for an enchantment already laid out on the passenger seat. Someone had thought ahead. The sight brought back a wispy memory of my goal. I held my hands over question mark, phone charger, and maze. _Confuse,_ I chanted. _Become an enigma. Make paths that trick the eye, impossible to follow._

Magic surged into the blue question mark, bouncing around in the representation of confusion until it collected itself into one mass of chaos. Then it streamed through the charger cord and into the drawn maze. A moment later the maze's color took on an orange sheen. The pressure in my skull vanished.

I collapsed to my knees on the hot asphalt. _Deep breaths, Adrienne._ _It's done now._ The phone charger had been a good call. Organic materials could channel more magic, but human-made things contained it more efficiently. This chaos magic had needed the firm guidance of plastic and metal. With it, I'd ensured this particular bit of magic wouldn't pursue me again. The enchantment would hold it long enough to forget me. If and when the maze enchantment did break, the magic would float around near the drawing until some enchanter wandered in to pick it up, or it faded back into the noise of Earth's magical field.

Wind fluttered the papers on the seat. I picked up the maze and studied it. From familiarity I knew the tattoo's maze wasn't solvable. No paths led from one end to the other. It should have been a simple matter to see that in this reproduction, but for some reason the lines confused me, made my thoughts sluggish and prevented my eyes from staying on the same spot. The blue highlighter flashed orange when the light hit it just right, the enchantment manifesting in a dash of art. I sighed. It had been close.

"Neat drawing," said a voice behind me. I jumped to my feet, clutching the paper to my chest.

A young man stood beside my open car door, his face awash in concern. He wore painters' clothes, his overalls spotted with tan and white. Across the parking lot I spotted a van with a painting company logo and a handful of other men staring at us.

My voice wouldn't come. I watched the young man wide-eyed until he cleared his throat. "So, really. Are you okay? Do you need me to call someone?"

Finally I remembered how words worked. "No," I said. "Sorry. I ... I have, um, panic attacks."

"Should you be driving if you're—"

"I'm fine. Really. Please go."

He licked his lips and looked nervously back at his buddies. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

With a shrug, he turned and trotted back past the gas pumps toward the van. I waited until the painters had loaded up and pulled out, watching them until they disappeared down the street. Only then did I round my car and crawl back into the driver's seat.

My hands shook. The paper maze rustled against my chest. I lowered it into my lap and stared at the design, an exact copy of the one on my chest, yet enchanted to seem totally unfamiliar.

One thought echoed. That man had seen the maze before I enchanted it, before it took on its aura of confusion. Chances were he thought it was just a neat pattern. Most likely he was just a concerned guy trying to help out. But even so, he might remember some of the pattern. He might be able to replicate a bit of it. And even that much, if it fell under the wrong eyes, would tell everyone from my cult exactly where I was.

# Chapter 21

I COULDN'T GO HOME, not with the Union hunting me, so I stopped at a cafe with free internet and used my phone to search for the painting company that owned the van. To my relief, it appeared legitimate. Family owned for thirty years, doing business all over the Bay Area, with dozens of reviews on various sites. The friendly guy was exactly what he appeared to be. Still, I cursed my carelessness. I couldn't afford more mistakes like that.

Now that I no longer felt under assault from arcane powers, I returned my attention to the tracking bracelet I'd made. Its gem still pointed deeper into the city. I used my phone's GPS to figure the exact bearing, then drew a line on a digital map from my current position to the direction the bracelet pointed. Then I drove a few miles south and repeated the test. After one more stop, I had three lines on the map. They all intersected around a small college just outside of San Francisco's borders. There I would find Shifty Pete.

Concrete and metal gave way to swooping trees as I approached the campus. Towering palms lined the road, and behind them groves of willows swayed in the breeze above rustling fields of manicured grass. The lawn had been edged so sharply, it looked like a slice of fudge.

When the buildings came into view, they too boasted of money. Stained glass windows nestled in marble arches. Flagstone walkways led to fenced patios and turret-topped balconies. A security booth loomed alongside the single-lane entrance to the parking lot. As I pulled up to the gate, the guard glanced into my car and paused, studying my features. My cheeks reddened. Maybe my car just had too many dents to mark me as a student here. Or maybe he thought I looked like I didn't belong. Either way, the scrutiny irked me.

After what felt like ages, but was probably only a second or two, he waved me through. Score another point for looking small and harmless, I guess.

Red signs forbade me from parking at numbered spots, which apparently belonged to specific people. I drove past crisply painted numbers until I reached a strip of metered parking near the back of the lot. When I saw the rates, my jaw dropped. But I clinked quarters into the machine and grumbled about how it was cheaper to park on the Embarcadero.

My bracelet now pointed toward a stately building with a roof more suited to a medieval castle than a modern institute of learning. Inside I found row upon row of shelves crammed with dusty books. A circular reception desk stood in the middle of the entrance hall beneath a huge chandelier that still had dust on it from the prohibition era. Not that I blamed them. If I had to climb an extension ladder to dust my lights, I wouldn't do it, either.

The girl at the reception desk wore a vest over a collared shirt and didn't even look up from her magazine as I entered. Probably a student, doing some kind of work-study. Or maybe volunteer hours for her resume. This didn't seem like a work-study type of place.

I found Pete in a second-floor reading alcove, seated at a polished wooden desk. A window looked out over a wooded garden, with one twist of a creek peeking between the shrubs. The alcove had its own chandelier, but this one included only three bulbs and seemed to have been recently dusted. Books covered the desk in front of Pete, with pretentious titles like _Tabulations on Population Analysis_ and _Inquiry and Investigation of Historical Externalities Resulting From Blah, Blah, Blah_. What he was actually reading behind the studious tomes was a graphic novel with over-muscled superheroes and torpedo-breasted heroines.

I snuck up behind him, trusting his reverence for magic to help me make a strong impression. "I don't think that's part of the curriculum."

He jumped a foot off his chair and banged his knees on the desk. His hand flew to his back, and he stifled a groan. He twisted so he was half hanging off his seat, staring at me wide-eyed. His other hand splayed flat on the table, as if holding himself upright. A chip of the fingernail was missing. "How did you find me?" he demanded.

"Take a wild guess."

"... Maps dot com?"

"Magic, you idiot." I folded my arms, ignoring the twinge in my shoulder, and frowned. "You don't think things through, do you? How did you get into Cal State Trust Fund here?"

He blushed. It made him look much younger, and I suddenly felt guilty for beating up on a kid, even if I only had a year or two on him. "It's not really a normal university," he admitted. "I mean, it's accredited—barely—but none of us really expect to get a job from here. I'm supposed to get a board position in my mom's investment firm, but she wanted me to have a degree first. Lake Oberon Lewis University will take anybody, if you can pay."

"Lake Oberon ... your university's abbreviation is LOL?"

He grimaced. Then winced. His hand went to his back again, and I caught a hint of bandaging under his shirt, where my magical bullet had struck him. He hadn't come out of our fight unscathed, and from the looks of it, he was faring much worse than me. At least I'd been able to remove my bandage.

I uncrossed my arms and softened my voice. "If your future's all set, why get mixed up in the arcane?"

"I'm no good at this," he said, waving a hand over the pretentious books. "That job at my mom's firm would be just for show. She doesn't expect me to actually do anything. In fact she'd probably prefer it if I didn't. But a man has to do something, right? I thought, maybe if I had magic ..." He fidgeted with the corner of his graphic novel and cast a guilty look at the costumed protagonist.

"You wanted to be a vigilante hero?" I fought to keep the incredulousness out of my voice.

He shrugged. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

I'd come here prepared to intimidate Shifty Pete into helping me. In some ways, that would have been easier. Find the snooty shifter, bully him, and leave him sniveling behind me. But I couldn't do that to this guy, not after I knew his story. Certainly not while he sat before me like a contrite child.

"You shouldn't go fight crime," I said softly. "Sooner or later the Void Union would notice, and you'd wind up in an unmarked grave. But there is something you can do to be a hero. Right now, in fact."

He frowned at me. "What?"

"The enchantress who gave you your powers. Who is she?"

"I can't tell you that."

"She's doing some very bad things, Peter. She's already hurt half a dozen other people. Wrecked their minds. She could have done the same to you, if your enchantment hadn't worked."

"I promised not to tell. She said she'd know if I did."

That gave me pause. Could an enchantment tell if someone broke their word? I had never tried such a thing before. "Did she put more than one enchantment tattoo on you? More than one line?"

He shook his head.

"Did you accept anything from her? Anything, even a glass of water or spare change?"

"No."

"Then I don't think you have anything to worry about. She was bluffing." I met Pete's eyes. "She's kidnapped my best friend. She's going to kill her, or at least drive her insane. You have a chance to use what you know to save a life. That probably won't ever happen again. Would you rather sit in those board meetings knowing you did what you could, or knowing you let innocents die because you were afraid?"

Pete's fingers entwined into knots. He stared down at his comic, at a panel where one of the musclebound men was pulling one of the impossibly-busted women out of a slow death trap of quicksand.

"I don't know if I can help," he said.

Swear words popped into my mouth, but I bit them back. I prepared to get pushier, maybe bring out a little of the magical bravado I had prepared. But he went on, "She wore a hood, and it was dark. I didn't get a good look at her face. And she never told me her name."

"Tell me what you can," I said.

"Um ... to be honest, I wasn't paying too much attention to what she looked like. Her jacket made her kind of shapeless, you know? There wasn't a lot to see. But I think she was blonde, under the hood. Maybe a redhead."

"Was she tall, short?"

He paused in recollection. "Taller than you."

That covered just about everybody in the world. I sighed. "If you can't describe her, can you tell me anything about where she came from? Was there a car on the ranch when you met her there?"

"I think ... yeah, there was."

"What kind?"

"It was pretty dark out. I think it was just a generic sedan. Blue, or black, or dark green. Nothing special."

"Bumper stickers, license plate numbers, decorations?"

"I'm sorry. I don't remember." He tapped his hands on the table. "You have to understand, I was about to get turned into a shapeshifter. I wasn't really thinking about anything else."

My teeth ground against one another. "You must know something useful. What about how you found her? How did you get in touch with her in the first place?"

He brightened. "That, I remember. I had been hanging around this message board online. It's called Ye Olde Circle. Lots of Seekers go on there to hang out and talk about magic, but there are also threads for shifters and other enchanted people. And ... sometimes enchanters would show up, but they usually only talked to each other and acted like the rest of us weren't there."

"That's where you picked up the reverence for enchanters?"

He nodded. "Seekers on the Circle said you all like to be treated with respect. And you deserve it, with what you can do."

"Tell me how you found the enchantress on this site."

He leaned forward. "I spend a lot of time watching the Questions board. That's where people come and post questions they have."

_Duh,_ I thought. I managed to not say it aloud.

"One day this new account registers and starts posting these theoretical questions, like, 'What if an enchanter has too much magic and a Seeker volunteers to take it? Is that still illegal?' Everybody replied that it was illegal if you were in Void Union territory, but if you were outside that, you would probably be okay. The poster asked about San Francisco and got lots of replies saying don't tangle with magic anywhere near here. Then she answered with more what-ifs, like, 'What are enchanters supposed to do, then?' She kept trying to make it sound like she just felt sorry for them, but it smelled off. I messaged her privately and said if she knew an enchanter near San Francisco with too much magic, I wanted some. And I said it wouldn't be illegal if nobody found out about it. She gave me a time and a place, and I showed up." He shrugged. "She tried to make it sound like she was just arranging the meeting for a friend, but I'm pretty sure the enchantress was the one posting online."

"This account asking these questions. What was the name on it?"

"248ToilAndTrouble." His eyes lit up. "Maybe the numbers are a clue! You could use them to—"

"It's a pun," I said, shaking my head. "Two, four, eight. Doubling the numbers. Double, double, toil and trouble."

He looked blank.

"Macbeth? Shakespeare? The witches?"

Still blank.

"Never mind. I'm going to need the URL for Ye Olde Circle."

He dug in his backpack for paper and pen. A moment later he handed me a web address.

"Thanks," I said.

He nodded and reached up to tug his shirt back over his bandages. "I don't think I want to get any deeper into this."

"I don't blame you. If I could avoid it, I'd stay out, too." I turned to go.

"What do I do now?" he asked.

I looked over my shoulder. "What do you mean?"

"Well ... I have this ability now. It seems like I should be doing something with it."

I smiled thinly. "Finish your degree, sit on your company board, and find something useful to do with your time. Spend weekends eating berries and honey in the forest. Whatever makes you happy. Most paranormals just live their lives, Pete. Those of us who spend every day tangled in this—we're the unlucky ones."

# Chapter 22

THE COLLEGE LIBRARY held an impressive array of computers. Unfortunately, all of them required a student ID and password to use. I thought about asking Shifty Pete for his, but I didn't want to bring Union trouble down on him. I also didn't want to use my phone to visit Ye Olde Circle, in case someone on there could trace me through it. Instead I made it to my car just before the meter ran out and decided to try my luck at a public library.

The security guard paid me no more mind leaving than he did when I came in. I drove down the wooded road until it rejoined the main street, then headed across the bridge into the city.

Sunlight glistened off the rippling water of the San Francisco Bay. To my left the old steel frame of the former Bay Bridge loomed like a skeletal giant. The new bridge had a more open design, allowing me to watch a handful of sailboats cavorting on the waves. Salt scented the air pouring through my open window. Omnipresent fog shadowed the Bay's more famous sights and obscured the city skyline until I'd crossed Yerba Buena Island onto the second half of the bridge.

Traffic slowed my progress to a crawl as I approached the city. An accident was blocking the fastest route, so I turned off into the downtown area to meander my way on. Cars, buses, and cable cars crawled up steep hills, the kind of hill where you keep your foot firmly on the brake at a stoplight for fear you'll roll backwards and hit the car behind you. Agonizing minutes passed as I crept along the roads and urging my aging vehicle to crest the next rise.

The San Francisco Public Library had dozens of branches, but I chose the main one for its central location. If anyone managed to track down where I'd logged onto the message board, they'd only know I was in one of the most densely populated areas of the country. I didn't bother checking for an open meter on the street, instead pulling into a nearby parking garage. As I walked to the library, someone pulled out of one of the street parking spaces right out front. Another car filled the space in under ten seconds. Good choice, going for the garage instead.

A five-story atrium of white stone and open walkways greeted me inside. I wandered the stacks until I found some unoccupied computers. Wooden privacy dividers secluded me from the other workstations, but even so I chose a spot at the far end of the row, away from other people. I entered my library card info, logged on, and quickly navigated to Ye Olde Circle.

Black background. Red-lettered list of topics. Curving buttons: Reply, New, Refresh. Recognition made me inhale sharply. It was the message board from the vision I'd gotten out of Sam's bracelet. The enchantress had been here, not only to recruit Peter, but to try to lure in Sam as well. Two visits at least, and who knew how many more. How many of her other victims had been recruited off this site?

There were dozens of sub-boards on the main message board. "Shifter Hangout," "Predator Support Group," "Legal Advice," "Dealing With Normals," "Dealing With Voids," "Hookups," "Virtual Yard Sale," "Jobs/Resumes," "Paranormal Sightings," "Seeker Support," "Vent Your Frustrations," and a baffling one titled "Mother Hubbard's Pasta Salad."

The "Questions" board appeared halfway down the page. I clicked it, and a popup prompted me for a username and password. Apparently I couldn't get out of this completely anonymous.

I gave it a throwaway email address and chose the username "HideandSeeker," which I thought was generic enough to avoid suspicion. A welcome message popped up, along with a chat window. Apparently the site had a live running conversation in addition to its message boards. Curious, I watched the currently unfolding discussion.

_myotherrideisaunicorn_ : Im serious. It had to be magic. The flag was just waving by itself. No wind.

_Fandom_of_the_opera_ : Because there couldn't possibly be another explanation. Like, idk, a draft higher in the air.

_myotherrideisaunicorn_ : Dont make fun of me. I really really think it was magic.

_Spudnick_ : POTATO SALAD

_Fandom_of_the_opera_ : Why would an enchanter make a flag wave on its own? I don't think magic can even do that.

_myotherrideisaunicorn_ : I bet it can.

_Spudnick_ : POTATO SALAD

<Spudnick has been blocked from chat>

_myotherrideisaunicorn_ : Come on people. Somebody must know if magic can do this.

_SamwiseassTheBrave_ : I once saw magic make a drawing move.

_myotherrideisaunicorn_ : See?

I startled. The debate continued, but I scrolled back up and clicked on SamwiseassTheBrave. A user profile came up, mostly blank, but under "interests" it listed art and drawing. A red button said, "Message." I clicked, and a separate tab opened in the chat window, allowing a private conversation.

_Sam?_ I typed. _Is that you? You told me you wouldn't come on these sites anymore!_

Long seconds eked by.

_< SamwiseassTheBrave is typing ...>_ said the screen.

More long seconds. Then the status disappeared, replaced by a new note:

<SamwiseassTheBrave is no longer online>

Sigh. I shook my head. Apparently I'd overestimated my own persuasiveness. I'd have to have another chat with Sam. Given the past week, it was way too dangerous to be a Seeker right now.

Again I navigated to the Questions board. This time a list of topics bombarded me, twenty-five to a page. "My ears won't shift back to human after I eat spicy food, is that normal?" "What's the hottest kind of power to have?" "Share your enchantment tattoos/birthmarks!" "R they5 witH uNd8er things??!8" and at least five iterations of "Is this board for real?"

Glancing at the number of pages, I saw there would be over two hundred topics to wade through on this sub-board alone. No time for that. Instead I found the site's search bar and typed in "248ToilAndTrouble."

Only five results came up. The first was the topic Shifty Pete had told me about, the one asking about the legality of enchanter-Seeker meetups. I found Peter's own comments there, under the username BearlyLegal. Groan.

The enchantress had posted similar topics in two other sub-boards. Another of her topics was on the Questions board:

_248ToilAndTrouble:_ I see plenty of shifters and vampires on here, but do other paranormal creatures exist? Just how much of mythology is true? And if other creatures like elves and faeries are real, where are they?

Glancing at the date, I saw this was her earliest post in this account. Gathering information, I supposed. Figuring out this new world she had entered. There were several replies, most of them sarcastic, but one good answer spoke so authoritatively I wondered if it might be another enchanter, one of those Pete said occasionally visited the board:

_CleverUsernameHere_ : There are no true mystical creatures. Every paranormal creature that exists was once a human or an animal who was reshaped by magic. Shifters, vampires, were-beasts, merfolk, the elementally empowered, all of them received magic from an enchanter, or inherited it from a parent or grandparent who did. It all traces back to enchanters, one way or another.

_248ToilAndTrouble:_ Figures. Thanks for the info.

The enchantress's final posts appeared in a Questions thread titled "Can you go back to being a normal?" It only had three replies, but the content intrigued me.

_248ToilAndTrouble_ : Is there any going back? If you turn into a paranormal, are you going to be that way for the rest of your life?

_QuothTheRaven_ : Some go back. If your enchantment is removed, you turn back into a normal. Sometimes enchantments are weak and fade on their own. But both of those can be dangerous. I wouldn't risk it.

_248ToilAndTrouble_ : I'm talking about people whose powers show up naturally.

_QuothTheRaven_ : If you mean those born as shifters or other paranormals, their magic can be removed like any other. If you mean the heavies—Voids and enchanters—I don't think there's anything that can make them into normals again.

I hope you're asking about this for a friend.

Thoughtful, I sat back and stared at the screen. I could think of a few reasons the enchantress would ask that question. One, she regretted what she'd done to people and wanted to fix it. I discarded that one, since she hadn't tried to remove the enchantments from her victims. Two, she might be overwhelmed by her powers and want to get rid of them.

Three, she wanted to know if she could harvest magic from those already enchanted. If Kendall wasn't in enough danger already, this post doubled my worry. Giving Kendall another enchantment might interact badly with her current one and drive her mad. Taking her powers out, stripping her of a core part of her identity from birth ... it could be fatal.

I opened the enchantress's account profile. She had last logged on over a month ago, and had only created the account a week before that. So she changed accounts frequently, probably to stop Voids from figuring out how she hunted. That meant if I wanted to find her recent activity, I'd need to figure out what name she was using now.

The board's stats at the bottom of the page showed over five thousand registered users. Of those, two dozen or so were currently online. With so broad a scope, I went back to the chat window.

_HideandSeeker_ : Hi, new here. I'm trying to find a friend of mine. Is there a way to search users by when they registered?

_myotherrideisaunicorn_ : Welcome! <3

_Covfefe_the_Grey_ : Welcome n00b.

_Frank &Stein_: Yo. *raises drink to n00b*

_Lest_we_forget_ : POTATO SALAD

<Lest_we_forget has been blocked from chat>

_Fandom_of_the_opera_ : Welcome HideandSeeker. I don't think there's a way to do that, sorry.

_HideandSeeker_ : What about searching by location?

_Fandom_of_the_opera_ : We mask IP addresses. Most people on here prefer to keep their location secret. What brings you to our Circle?

I bit my lip and stared at the blinking cursor in the chat box. Without a way to search for the enchantress's new accounts, I'd need to find her through the sorts of topics she would post. If I was careful, maybe I could get some information out of these people. I started typing.

_HideandSeeker_ : Just looking for my friend. She's a Seeker, and I'm worried about someone taking advantage of her.

_myotherrideisaunicorn_ : Are you para?

Paranormal, I guessed. I answered:

_HideandSeeker_ : No, but another friend of ours is a dog shifter. My friend wants to do the same thing. I told her it's dangerous but she won't listen. I was wondering if enchanters come on here to recruit.

_myotherrideisaunicorn_ : Yah theyre around. Most of us know not to talk to them.

_Fandom_of_the_opera_ : We have a few regulars who talk in chat with the rest of us, but they're harmless. Registered with the Voids and all that. We permaban the ones who recruit openly so the Voids don't shut us down.

_HideandSeeker_ : But they could recruit using private messages?

_Fandom_of_the_opera_ : Look, I'm not saying it doesn't happen, but it's not something we talk about. Don't ask, you know?

The chat window flashed, and another tab opened with a private message from myotherrideisaunicorn.

_myotherrideisaunicorn_ : Hey. Check the hookups forum. Thats where most recruiters will hang out. The posts that mention having a magical time are usually the shady ones. You could also check the pasta salad forum cause thats where people post random crap and enchanters will sneak in there too. Hope you find your friend.

Finally I was getting somewhere. _Thanks,_ I wrote back.

I checked the Mother Hubbard's Pasta Salad forum out of curiosity first. There was a topic permanently pinned at the top of the board titled "The legendary potato vs. pasta salad debate." A piece of the board's history, apparently. Inside I found a poll with over a thousand votes. Pasta was winning by 200 points. Snickering, I voted "Potato Salad." Gotta love a plucky underdog.

Further down I found a thread called "Respect Due an Enchanter." This looked more promising.

The first post came from someone named SeekerAscended, claiming surefire ways to impress an enchanter and convince them to give you powers. Shifty Pete had posted in this thread, asking about the price for an enchantment and whether shifting into a bigger animal would cost more. My stomach turned the more I read. The people in this topic idolized people like me. They considered us some sort of superhumans, above mortal laws and decency. "The enchanter may look down on you. This is correct, as they are above you in the supernatural world. Be deferring." And so on.

Finally I came across a reply that said, "You can always go out of state. There are enchanters all over the place, if you know where to look. Most of them stay in areas the V.U. can't patrol. There are big cults in Oregon, the Dakotas, Virginia, Florida ..."

Again I jumped. Virginia. That was my cult. To see it so casually referenced made the tattoo on my chest itch. I resisted scratching it, instead taking a look around, as if fleshwriters could be watching me this very moment.

No one paid any attention to the short girl at the last computer. I clicked the username of the person listing cults and found posts in dozens of other topics, all related to enchanters, specifically fleshwriters. Heart pounding, I clicked through them, feeling momentum build. "Avoiding Voids." "Best metal for storing magic." "How to stop magical bleed-off from organic channels." "Does this setup look right to you?" Even a few in the Hookups forum with the "magical time" double entendre. Each topic was buried in an otherwise normal forum, allowing the enchanters to blend in without congregating anywhere in particular. But I'd found their little sub-community, and now that I was in, I could sniff out my target.

This user's profile had been active for almost a decade, so it couldn't belong to the enchantress. But I followed its posts to a thread titled "Best Place For a Magical Lair." Users posted photos of caves, attics, hollow trees, and other locations, asking for opinions. None of the places had enough detail to make them identifiable, not unless you had already seen the interior pictured.

On page fifteen, I froze on a familiar sight. Falling stone walls. Rotting wooden tables. Crevices in the stone, forming makeshift shelves. Moonlight peeping through a rotted wooden doorway. It was the cellar from the ranch, the one where Shifty Pete had attacked us and where Kendall had picked up a bracelet.

People's reactions to the cellar were positive, saying it looked like a well-hidden and usable space. The photo was posted under the username Tim. I didn't get it until I remembered the Monty Python movie with an enchanter. Yet another pun. I glanced at the date on the post. One week ago, at one am. Holding my breath, I clicked Tim's profile.

Jackpot. Her current status was offline, but her most recent post was from yesterday. This was the enchantress's current hunting profile. I supposed she might use another profile for innocuous discussions and create throwaway accounts like this one to post anything that could identify her, but even her puppet account would be enough if she had made mistakes. Posting a picture of her lair was a big one. I just hoped there was another.

Her Tim profile had been active, more so than her 248ToilAndTrouble one. She hadn't been caught yet, so she was getting sloppy. Further down in the thread about magical lairs, someone named WhichWitch mentioned abandoned buildings as potential hideouts. The enchantress commented, _It only works if they're out in the countryside. Inner city ones attract druggies and criminals._

Score. I could rule out searching every boarded-up warehouse and rotting home in the city. Someone else mentioned creepy landmarks, and again the enchantress said there would be too many tourists. Rule out Alcatraz, then. She replied to another comment about having a backup lair with "definitely." So I felt assured she did in fact have a second lair where she'd go to ground. That was where I would find Kendall.

The enchantress didn't post again in that topic, but I followed her activity. She bounced through multiple posts about enchantment, asking questions about how to choose channels and foci, how many enchantments could be put on one object, how enchantment layering works and whether it was safe to store multiple enchanted objects near one another. The more I read her posts, the more impressed I became. She'd figured out many of the basics on her own, and her questions showed a keen grasp of the tempestuous nature of magic. She was sharp. Sharp as the knife that kills you before you feel it enter.

She also made a few posts in mundane topics. Things like favorite flavors of ice cream (butter pecan) and weirdest family stories. One post gave me a flicker of emotion: _It's rough when your family falls apart. Believe me, I know._ The sentiment felt too familiar, too close to home. I stifled the burst of sympathy. No matter what her background, it didn't excuse what she'd been doing.

Next I found her in an innocuous post about summertime activities. _I love hiking. The mountains are the best place to be alone with your thoughts. It sucks when there aren't any good ones near your city._

My skin prickled. I'd thought the enchantress might live in the suburbs, because she'd chosen the farm as a base. This implied she was in the city proper. Her last post confirmed it, in another mundane thread about traffic: _I hate when the person behind you starts to go at a light, like they're gonna rear-end you. It's worst on the big hills near my house where you roll backwards a little every time you take your foot off the brake. You always feel like you're a second away from a crash._

I sat back, staring at the screen. I had her.

The bit about hills cinched it. She lived in San Francisco, and had driven her blue-maybe-black-or-dark-green sedan out to the ranch she used as her hideout. She'd probably tried putting a lair in the city proper before concluding she was too likely to be found. She liked mountains and solitude, so her backup lair was probably somewhere in the wilderness. She wouldn't need much space, just enough storage for some enchanting supplies and maybe a prisoner or two. The closest real mountain was over an hour away, but I dismissed it as an option. Based on her posts on the message board, she wouldn't transport a kidnapping victim that far. She'd be somewhere close to the city.

There were a number of large parks near downtown San Francisco. The Presidio charged for parking, and Golden Gate Park probably had too many visitors for the enchantress to feel comfortable camping out there. But a swath of green parks, lakes, and recreation areas ran from San Mateo County up to Marin County. She would be somewhere in there. I just had to figure out which spot offered the most secrecy.

Or which one had the most magic.

I was about to re-read the enchantress's posts, looking for missed clues, when the chat window flashed. _You have a new private message._

Frowning, I opened the new tab.

_LifeInShadow_ : I notice you're browsing a lot of topics about enchanters.

Startled, I clicked to my own user profile. _HideandSeeker is currently viewing their own profile_ , it said.

The chat window flashed with a new message.

_LifeInShadow_ : If you're interested in enchanters, I can answer your questions. I'm with a group in Virginia, way outside Void territory, so you won't get in trouble.

A scream tried to claw its way out of my throat. My vision swam. I clicked the mouse, trying to find the logout button, but nothing happened. Those words kept leering at me, red on black. _Can answer your questions. Group in Virginia ..._

In desperation I punched the power button on the computer tower. The machine shut down with a whirring sigh. The monitor went blank. I sat there, shaking before the black screen.

Who was LifeinShadow? Chances were I knew them. Was it Nolan, the good-looking IT professional who liked to enchant girls into sleeping with him? Was it Harriet, the bookstore owner who put tracking enchantments on her products, then sold her customers' addresses to advertisers? Was it Geralt himself, looking for new recruits?

Was it my mom? Was it my dad?

My arms wrapped around my chest. I huddled in the wooden chair for what felt like hours, trying to silence the strings of terror vibrating in my heart.

# Chapter 23

I COULDN'T BRING MYSELF to turn the computer back on. Before leaving, I checked with a librarian who said the web browser would automatically log off of all sites visited. My account on Ye Olde Circle would disconnect itself. And I would never make use of it again.

If I hadn't believed Bane Harrow about my cult still being active, I'd just found my own proof. They were very much still there, and still recruiting new members and subjects. It didn't seem too much of a leap that they would still be searching for me, too. Suddenly Harrow's offer of Void protection seemed warm and inviting. I pushed the thought aside. I couldn't afford to obligate myself to the Voids. At least not out of fear like this.

I'd mostly recovered by the time I returned to my car. I sat in thought for a while. If I wanted to drive through the various parks, feeling for powerful loci of magic, I'd need to go prepared. It wouldn't help Kendall if I wound up insane from magic bombarding me during the search, or if I stumbled upon the enchantress and wasn't ready for a fight. I needed my enchanted gear, but more than that, I needed my craft supplies. The Voids might be watching Crafter's Haven, but I had to risk a trip.

Instead of pulling into the lot, I parked on a residential street a few blocks away and walked to the store's back entrance. A long, narrow alley led up to the metal door, abutted on one side by loading bays for the shops and on the other by an ivy-covered chain-link fence marking off residential backyards. A covered concrete loading bay lay before the store's rear door, the space Desmond used for woodworking. A large shed where he kept his tools stood padlocked on one side of the door and a big broom leaned on the other. Sawdust covered everything. A half-finished cabinet squatted in the middle of the bay, and a few other projects lay where the sun could dry the varnish on their wood. I watched the bay for several minutes, but saw no sign of movement. I darted from the cover of the ivy fence and rushed to unlock the door with my key.

Once inside, I quieted my breathing. Crafter's Haven looked exactly as I had left it. Empty bathroom and employee breakroom/store office in the back. My shop in one front corner, two checkout lanes in the other. Aisles stuffed with art supplies marched from front to back, and lively abstract murals decorated the walls above the outer shelves. Brown shades covered the front windows, turning the light that bled through a warm nutty color. There was no shade on the glass front door, so I hugged the exterior walls as I made my way to my counter. While there didn't seem to be any Voids around, I also didn't want any irate customers to catch sight of me and demand to be let in. We were in the middle of posted business hours, after all.

I hopped the counter into my workspace, then ducked to rummage in my tool chests and boxes of supplies. From the box of enchanted jewelry, I pulled a ring of lightning, a bracelet of agility, a necklace to enhance my physical strength, and earrings that would make my skin more resistant to wounds. Added to my conjured knife bracelet and shield ring, they would form my arsenal. I also had my sensory ring in my purse, and I added a sound dampening anklet and a bracelet that would provide minor camouflage in case I needed to sneak around.

For my craft supplies, I was far less picky. Everything I thought I might need went into a big canvas shopping bag, one I'd painted with flowers and planned to sell in my shop. Ribbon, lace, leather, wire, string, rubber bands. Balsa wood, dowels, felt. Scissors, box cutter, paperclips. And on and on and on, opening each drawer of my supplies and adding to the bag.

I was on the second to last drawer of the second to last chest when a hand closed on my shoulder. I screamed, whirling and rising in one movement, slashing at my attacker with the gnarled stick that happened to be in my hand.

Desmond jumped back, hands raised. "Whoa! Calm down, it's me."

Heart thundering, I clutched my crafting table for support. "Sorry. I thought ... I thought you were ..."

"I know who you thought I was." Desmond's tone was dark. "I barely got away from them myself. Axel couldn't prove I knew you were in the stable, and he wouldn't just arrest me for no reason. Even if he wanted to, there were too many other Voids present who would see. He took my phone so I couldn't call you, but I snuck off the first chance I had."

"You shouldn't have come after me, Desmond. It's not safe."

"But I had to tell you. I learned something after you ran. Maribel—"

A sour taste filled my mouth. "She showed up, did she?"

"No. I finally asked one of the Union Hunters where she was. Adrienne—Maribel has been missing since last night."

The world spun around me, tilting out of balance. Thoughts and facts came together, dizzying me with the speed of their collision. If I hadn't already been leaning on the table, I might have fallen.

" _Dios mío_ ," I whispered. "It's her."

Desmond looked ashen. "I know it's a big leap to make."

"No. It's not. I found Shifty Pete, asked him what he remembered about the enchantress. He didn't have a lot, but he remembered that she had blonde hair. Then he told me the website where he found her. She had posted about her family falling apart. Now Kendall has been taken by the enchantress, and Maribel doesn't show up to work. And she's a shifter, not a Void. She's not immune to magic. It all fits, Desmond. Maribel is the enchantress!"

"I thought the same thing. That's why I knew I had to tell you, even if the Union ..." He licked his lips nervously.

"You're really in trouble now, aren't you?"

He shrugged and gave a crooked smile. "Let's just say if we get caught again, I'll be in the cell with you this time."

I bent to rummage through my last few supply drawers. "They think I did it, don't they?"

"Axel is pretty convinced. It was no secret that Maribel and you didn't like each other."

"Figures," I grumbled. "She kidnaps my best friend and manages to frame me for it all at once."

"Coupling that with how you keep showing up at the crime scenes and trying to force your way into the investigation, Axel thinks you're too suspicious to be innocent. And he's not the only one."

"So we're on the run."

"Pretty much. But we have a lead." Smiling grimly, he pulled a single silver key from his pocket and let it dangle on its chain.

"What's that?"

"A key to Maribel's apartment. The Union makes us all give them spares to our homes."

I paused, looking around the store. "And your businesses?"

"Yes, but we have a few minutes. The store key was still on its hook when I stole this from headquarters. I also tripped a bunch of alarms. Opening fire doors, smashing security cameras. If we're lucky they think they have a full-blown invasion going on. By the time they make it to Crafter's Haven, we'll be gone."

Holy crap. He hadn't just chosen my side over theirs, he'd burned the bridge, the support posts, and the grass surrounding the bridge for good measure.

Before I thought about it, I stood on my tiptoes and pressed my lips against his. It was soft, brief, but a spark tingled from my scalp down to my heels. Desmond stiffened in surprise, but his body relaxed, easing into the kiss.

I broke away first. "Thank you," I whispered.

"Adrienne ..."

"Later. First we have to finish this." I slammed shut the last drawer of my tool chest. The metal banged home like the crack of a starter pistol. Sides were joined, lines drawn. The battle was on.

Maribel lived on the seventh floor of a tall apartment building situated between other large skyscrapers. No doorman in the lobby, though the outside door had a lock. Desmond let us in, turning the key and jiggling the knob with a practiced hand. I tried not to think about why he had so much familiarity with Maribel's building.

"So what are we looking for?" Desmond asked as we rode the elevator up.

"Maps or an address book, ideally. More likely we'll find takeout from a restaurant on her route back from her lair, or enchanted items from the area. If we find something like that, I can draw the enchantment out and try to trace where the magic came from."

"What if that doesn't work?"

My jaw tightened. "It has to work. The only other option is to drive through all the parks, feeling for strong magic. Kendall doesn't have that kind of time."

The elevator let out on a short hallway with tasteful tan carpet and generic prints of sepia flowers on the walls. Not a decorator's work, but not dated or tacky either. Maribel's apartment was one of four on the floor, next to the stairs at the far end of the hall.

Again Desmond worked the key in the lock, opening onto the home of my enemy.

It was not what I expected.

Skulls and sacrificial daggers would have been a bit much, but I at least thought we'd find animal fur or spearheads or severed butterfly wings or something. Not overtly evil, but inclined toward harsh magic.

Instead a grey futon faced an expensive entertainment center, with multiple gaming consoles and a TV bigger than me. Bare walls, except for an action movie poster and two large framed photos. One showed a family of four: a man and a woman with two girls between five and eight years old, all blonde, all smiling, the older daughter with her arm draped affectionately around the younger. The older girl's sharp cheekbones and confident eyes couldn't be mistaken; this was Maribel and her birth family.

The other photo showed another family. The parents were Hispanic, their smiles warm and inviting, their hair starting to grey around the temples. They held hands in the center of the photo, surrounded by five adult children. Two of the kids were Hispanic, a man and a woman, but another woman was African-American and the remaining man was white. The last child was Maribel. She smiled widely, eyes alight with joy, her arms around her two brothers. They all looked like they'd been caught mid-laugh. Yet there was a hardness to Maribel's eyes, a faint stoniness beneath the smile. Her eyes angled away from the camera as if looking toward the other family in the other frame, gazing toward the past.

I swallowed as I stared at the photo. Her tragedy did not excuse what she'd done, I reminded myself. Uneasy, I tore my eyes from the pictures and resumed searching.

"The bedroom's pretty sparse," Desmond called. "I'm not seeing any enchanting equipment."

"She wouldn't keep it here, with the Union dropping in."

"I'm not seeing any hints that she sneaks off anywhere, either."

I followed his voice into the bedroom. Queen-sized bed, grey sheets crisply tucked, no headboard. Dog-eared fantasy adventure paperback on the nightstand. Crossed swords mounted on a plaque on the wall. A framed certificate beside them read "Honorable Discharge."

"She's ex-military?"

"Marines. Two tours."

"Of course she is." I sighed. "There has to be something here. If she's an enchantress, she has to keep some materials around in case magic strikes out of no—"

Jewelry box on the dresser.

Now that seemed out of place.

I crossed to the box and lifted the lid. Inside lay a small number of pieces, each lovingly set so it displayed from the best angle. A silver ring engraved with Semper Fidelis. A tarnished pocket watch still wound to show the right time. A pink plastic novelty ring, like a child would win from an arcade. A solitary diamond set on a gold ring. My eyes slid toward Desmond, but he didn't seem uncomfortable. So the diamond wasn't from him.

The box lacked the array of bangles and baubles I would expect any magic wielder to keep around to hold enchantments. But not only that, something else was missing, something tickling the back of my mind. I stared at the nearly empty box until it clicked. "The bracelet."

"What?"

"The bracelet Maribel took from Kendall. The one Kendall found in the enchanting cellar. It's not here."

Desmond peered over my shoulder, making me jump. "So?"

I shut the lid of the box. "So Maribel's not the jewelry wearing type. She only took that bracelet to piss Kendall off. Why isn't it here?"

"Maybe it's somewhere else."

"Not with this kind of tidiness." I swept my hand over the immaculate box and pristine room. "It has to be on her." Thoughts swirled in my head, forming a conclusion that I didn't like. Knots formed in my shoulders. "I don't think Maribel is the enchantress. I think that bracelet did something to her. Her and Kendall both."

Desmond frowned. "You think it had an enchantment on it? Something that targets shifters?"

"Not just shifters. Anybody. I think the bracelet was enchanted to lure people to where the enchantress could capture them. Anyone who wore the bracelet would fall under the spell. It was a trap, for thieves."

"Then why didn't it affect Kendall the moment she put it on?"

"Manipulation magic works best when the target is asleep, when their defenses are down."

"But more than one night passed before Kendall disappeared."

"That's true. Maybe it had a delay built in to throw off suspicion, or ..." Facts clicked into place. "The full moon! The night Kendall and Maribel disappeared was a full moon. This enchantress is a new magic user, and she's already shown she leans toward the spooky, traditional view of magic. She probably thought tying the enchantment to the full moon would make it stronger."

"Would it?"

"No." I paused. "Probably not. Actually, I'm not sure. But it doesn't matter. The bracelet compelled anyone who wore it to wake up in the middle of the night and return the bracelet to the enchantress. Kendall went to the farm, maybe because that's where she had found the bracelet, but Maribel—"

"Her car wasn't at the farm," Desmond said excitedly. "She was compelled to go somewhere else."

I nodded. "She still had the bracelet with her. The magic would have been stronger for her, since she wore it longer and had it nearby. It would have drawn Maribel to where the enchantress is hiding now."

"So we'll find our culprit and Kendall if we track down Maribel."

"I can't track her directly. I tried with Kendall. Wherever they're being held, there's too much magic in the air. It's clouding my enchantment." I smiled. "But if Kendall drove to find the enchantress, Maribel must have, too. And I'll bet the enchantress's lair is far enough off the road that Maribel's car would have been left behind."

"Far enough behind that your tracking magic can lock onto it?"

"Only one way to know. Find something that goes with her ride."

"Can't we just use a photo of the car? Or a tire fragment from the parking lot?"

"No. Tracking magic requires a spiritual bond between the focus and the thing being tracked. For people, I like to use family heirlooms, favorite books, or something they made themselves. Hair, nail clippings, even blood doesn't work unless the person has some sort of deep connection to it."

"But you tracked Shifty Pete using his claw."

"Because he chose that form. He had a spiritual connection to the idea of being a bear. Plus the fact that he tore part of his nail off meant the lingering pain would keep him connected to that claw fragment. But for Maribel's car, we need something directly connected to her specific vehicle, something that would be missed if it went missing. A steering wheel cover or other decoration would work, but I think our best bet is a spare key."

We rummaged through drawers and cabinets for several minutes. At the desk, Desmond made a triumphant sound and straightened. A silver key dangled between his fingers.

"Perfect," I said. I snatched the key, laid it on the desk, then spilled my purse's contents beside it. In the jumble of jewelry I found the sunburst bracelet I'd enchanted to track Shifty Pete. I also picked out an unenchanted amethyst necklace, a twin to the one I'd tried to use to track Kendall. The rest of the jewelry I scooped back into the bag and set aside.

Efficiency, not power, would be key to this enchantment. I needed a channel that could handle magic without much bleed-off. That ruled out anything organic. But I also didn't want something too rigid that might restrict the magic's range. Across the room I spotted Maribel's phone charger draped over the arm of the couch. Perfect.

Since I had time and needed to get this enchantment perfect, I went slow. I threaded the skinny end of the phone cord around the amethyst pendant and tied it in a knot, tucking the loose end in. Then I did the same with the charger end, winding it around Maribel's car key. I laid the objects out on the table, one at each end with the charger cord stretched straight between them. I made sure the cord was flat, with no twists or bumps that could weaken the enchantment. For good measure I grabbed a paper towel from the kitchen and dusted both table and charger cord.

Finally everything looked right. I took a minute to breathe slowly, focusing my thoughts. I cupped the sunburst bracelet in my palms, felt the _kadum kadum kadum_ inside. Closing my eyes, I drew the magic in.

KADUM. KADUM. KADUM.

Eagerly the magic surged through me, like a hound straining at its leash. It wanted to hunt, to seek, to find. It had already been inclined toward that purpose twice, and now I encouraged that goal once more, sending the magic into Maribel's car key, then through the electric cord and into the amethyst necklace. It went easily, happily, pleased to fulfill its purpose. I bolstered it with some raw magic drawn from the air, boosting the spell. The magic flowed out of me like a contented sigh, and left me smiling once done.

Desmond looked at me curiously. "So ... was that good for you?"

I swatted him, but I couldn't suppress the smile. "This is what enchantment is all about. That magic has been given the same goal three times, and it shows. It flowed beautifully, like a symphony, or a painting. It's becoming a piece of art, and it's happy about it."

"You make it sound like magic is a living thing."

I shrugged. "To me, it is. The same way a poem or one of your carvings can take on life."

His eyes sparkled with sudden warmth. "I can understand that." He paused, then smirked. "Even if your idea of art is pedestrian and inferior to mine."

I laughed. "Keep telling yourself that while you poke holes in dead trees." I unwound the phone cord from the pendant and held it up. The pendant spun instantly, pointing toward the kitchen. It continued to rotate to point the same way, even when I crossed the entire room.

Desmond straightened his shoulders, all trace of joking gone as he stared in the direction indicated by the necklace. "North. Probably across the bridge. The Golden Gate, not the Bay."

"I know which bridge is north, dork." Worry made a tangle in my gut. "There's tons of land up there. We're going to have to hike. If they're too deep off the trails it could take hours."

Desmond looked grim. "We'd better get going."

Heavy knuckles banged on the door. "SFPD! Open up!"

I jumped and flashed a panicked look at Desmond. "What do they want?" I whispered.

"Damn." He grabbed my elbow and herded me into the bedroom. "The Union must have called them."

"The human police? Why would the Union—"

"They really want to stop us. To stop you. They must have thought it was worth the risk of exposure."

"Can I trick them? I'm a tiny woman, surely they won't think I'm a threat."

"A few SFPD officers are clued in. They're the ones the Union would have called. At least one person in that hallway will know what you are, what you can do." Desmond eyed the window. "They're probably watching the street below, but we're going to have to risk climbing out—"

I ripped Maribel's grey comforter off her bed.

"—what are you doing?"

"Getting us out of here. I hope." I bundled the quilt in a pile on one side of the bed as the knocking on the door intensified. With no time to prepare, I grabbed a sweater from the closest drawer, poked one sleeve cuff into the pile of quilt, then pressed the other against the wall. There wasn't a lot of magic nearby after my previous enchantment, but I breathed in everything I could find, every bit drumming lightly on my skin, gathering it to myself from every corner of the room.

It wasn't enough. There was no pressure left, no magic trying to burrow into me, but I needed more. I reached further, sucking magic from the rest of the apartment. It flowed toward me, slowly at first, picking up speed as I continued to call to it. My head drummed a frantic rhythm, a chaotic dance too fast for human thought to follow. But all that magic was still not enough. I reached further, until I grasped at mere wisps at my fingertips, straining to gather all magic within my reach and then a little bit beyond. Timpanis pounded holes in my skull, magic crammed so tightly within me I thought my skin would come unlaced. With a groan I sent the magic out, focused on the wall, channeled through the sweater, and targeted on the comforter.

Smoke rose from the sweater, but the synthetic fabric held. Exhausted, I slumped against the wall. My ears rang, echoing with remembered drumbeats. Desmond's mouth moved above me, but no words reached me. I seized his hand, drawing him to the wall beside me, then threw the enchanted quilt over us both just as a crash sounded from the front door.

All was still under the comforter. Desmond didn't move, taking his cues from me, but more than that, the world itself had gone quiet. No tingling on my skin. No distant drumming teasing my mind. Silence.

My breath came hard. It had been a long time since I'd channeled that much magic. I preferred to use strategy over power, setting up an efficient enchantment, cultivating magic over time so it would do what I wanted easily. With enough time and the right materials, I could create elaborate masterworks of craftsmanship.

But in a pinch, a raw deluge of power could accomplish something similar. The enchantment on the blanket wouldn't hold for long, and it would take weeks, maybe months for the magic in this building to return to normal, but for now, I hoped it would save us.

Loose stitching in the comforter gave us a hazy view of the bedroom. Uniformed police officers burst in, guns out and ready. They swept past us, checking the closet and the space beneath the bed. "Clear," someone called.

Beside me, Desmond blinked. He glanced sidelong at me, eyebrows raised in a question. I flashed a thin smile and squeezed his hand.

The officers spread out and began searching the room more carefully, using gloved hands to open drawers and pull back window curtains. I held my breath and took a slow step toward the door. None of them noticed.

Desmond moved with me as I took another step. One of the officers sniffed the air. "Does it smell like smoke?" he asked.

I glanced at the sweater I'd abandoned on the floor. Fortunately it had stopped smoldering. Clued in or not, I didn't know what a normal would make of fabric that seemed to self-immolate.

Step by excruciating step, we made our way to the bedroom door. There we had to wait for a break in the officers passing back and forth between the rooms. When opportunity finally came, it was a struggle not to dart through the door quickly. Each slow step we took through the door added precious seconds where an officer might suddenly decide to go to the next room and crash into us. But we made it into the living room and began creeping along the wall toward the front door, all without drawing attention.

At the front door, we had to wait almost ten minutes before one of the officers left for a smoke break. Now I moved fast, slipping through the door with Desmond in tow before it could close behind us. The officer heading out had his back turned, and when no outcry sounded in the apartment, I guessed the others hadn't seen our sudden movement, either.

We waited for the officer to disappear down the hall. Then I stumbled toward the stairs, leaning against the wall, still secluded under the quilt with Desmond. Once in the stairwell, I sagged against him, letting the quilt slide off of me. "Ugh," I groaned.

His lips warmed my ear as he whispered, "Did you just get us out by hiding under the covers?" When I didn't respond, he pulled back, frowning. "I thought that would get a laugh. Are you all right?"

"Tired," I mumbled. "Too much magic."

"What did you do?"

I tugged the comforter off of him and let it pile on the floor. Whenever my eyes fell on it, they registered nothing of importance. I could see that the comforter was there, but to my eyes it seemed as irrelevant as a bare wall. Only my own knowledge of the enchantment let me hang onto the idea that something unusual was on the ground in front of me.

Desmond stared at the quilt, mouth open. "Huh."

"You shouldn't even be able to notice it," I said. "The materials weren't right. It's leaking magic like a faucet."

"I didn't know you could do that. Didn't you say it takes time to train magic to do things like this?"

"If you do it right. If you want it to last more than twenty minutes. I was afraid it would wear off while we were still in the room."

Desmond kicked the quilt to one corner of the stairwell, where it wouldn't trip any unsuspecting residents. "They're probably watching the entrances, but we might be able to sneak out if we wait until a group walks by the door. Unless you'd like to pull another stunt?"

I shook my head. "You should go home, Desmond."

"I'm not leaving."

"I'm serious." I met his eyes, the dark irises rich and deep. "You're in enough trouble already. Let me handle this."

"I told you before, Adrienne. Letting Axel take you from that cell was the biggest mistake I've ever made, and I thank God nothing bad happened because of it. I'm not making another one like that."

My gaze dropped. "That last enchantment took it out of me, Desmond. Even if we find the enchantress, and even if we can take her by surprise ... I'm not sure I can defeat her."

Desmond cupped my hand between his, looked at me seriously, and asked, "What if I buy you coffee?"

A laugh bubbled out of me, surprising me with a little jolt of energy.

Desmond grinned. "I'm serious. The big size. With extra cream. And a triple shot of espresso."

"A triple shot? You want me to fight, not launch into orbit." I managed a smile. "Thanks, Desmond."

"You're still an ignoramus."

"You're still a troglodyte." I wanted to bury my fingers in his hair, draw him down toward me, but it was taking all my energy to stay upright. I staggered one step toward the stairs.

Desmond scooped me into his arms and carried me the rest of the way.

# Chapter 24

WE SNUCK OUT of the building under the cover of a large crowd of tourists taking a walking sightseeing trip. By then I was on my feet, if unsteady, and I tapped my ring of camouflage to make myself a little less noticeable in case more cops were watching the exit. It wasn't as strong an enchantment as the one I'd put on the blanket, but every little bit helped. No one stopped us, and we stayed with the tour group long enough to round a few corners. Then we drifted to the back of the crowd and eventually let them leave us behind altogether.

Desmond helped me sit down on someone's front stoop. "I'll get your car and pick you up."

"That might be how they found us. They could be watching it."

"I'll keep an eye out. I think it's more likely the Union saw that I took Maribel's key and called the SFPD to report us breaking into her apartment. This is my fault. I didn't think the Union would involve the normals." He fidgeted with his pockets, his chagrin evident.

I took his hand. "We got away. That's what matters."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

He gave my hand a squeeze. "Do you need anything? Headache pills, bandages ..."

"I overused magic, Desmond. I didn't concuss myself. I'll be fine."

"You're sure?"

"There's nothing that can help."

His lips twitched. "I'm still buying you coffee."

"I won't say no to that."

He left me on the porch and doubled back to fetch my car. Fifteen minutes later he returned, two steaming cups filling the car with rich deliciousness. I buckled myself into the passenger seat and grabbed the offered takeout cup. He'd gotten the large size, with extra cream and a shot of caramel, exactly the way I liked it. Some of my strength returned as I sipped the coffee, its warmth easing away my fatigue. I wouldn't be in top shape, but hopefully I could keep us alive.

We headed north on 101, following the amethyst necklace's guidance. I draped the silver chain around the rearview mirror, letting the pendant swing freely. It pointed ever northward, guiding us into the parkland on the fringes of San Francisco.

Fog rolled off the ocean as we drove over the Golden Gate Bridge, lit a smoky red by the setting sun. Twilight shadows darkened the water, dancing with the churning waves. Chill air permeated the car and made me shiver. I turned on the heat and huddled in the seat, staring out the window at the receding city lights.

We drove in silence, until the amethyst pendant began tilting to the right. At my nod, Desmond left the freeway and drove into the woodlands. I'd hoped the enchantress might have hidden in the scrubby, hilly terrain closer to the bridgehead, but she'd gone further north, into the thick of the forest. Roads wound their way through Mount Tamalpais State Park, making loops and backtracks that could addle a GPS, much less a magical pendant that only pointed one direction.

When the amethyst suddenly turned away from the road and pointed off into the trees, I made Desmond pull over onto a flat gravel area. A dented bumper protruded from the bushes on the far side of the turnoff, the rest of the vehicle hidden in the shrubs. Desmond nodded to it. "That's Maribel's car. I recognize the plate. How will we know if the enchantress has her nearby, or drove her somewhere else?"

I opened the door and stepped out. My feet crunched on sticks and pine needles. Crickets sang the sun to sleep as dusk rolled over the woods. Long shadows stretched across clear patches of ground, while thickets between groves of trees had already turned to puddles of night. Magic hung in the branches, alit on twigs and pooled in the brush, thrumming faintly on my arms.

Closing my eyes, I felt the magic, let it feel me in return. Some of it tried to channel through me, but I pushed it aside, seeking further, reaching as I had reached in Maribel's apartment. A headache began immediately, but I clenched my teeth and pressed on. If my nemesis had made her lair nearby, there would be some sign. A patch of no magic, or ...

kadumKadumKADUMKADUM

_..._ or a patch of way too much.

I poked my head back into the car. "She's here. I can feel a locus of magic nearby. A lot of power is swirling around her, trying to channel through her."

Desmond hopped out of the car and headed for the trunk. "Is it going to do the same to you?"

"Yes."

He paused with his hand on his sword gear. "Are you going to be able to handle that?"

"I don't know."

He drew his sword out and slammed the trunk. "You keep telling me to go home, but maybe you should stay in the car while I ..."

"No. We already know she can do shifting enchantments, and if she turns into an animal you'll need help. Not to mention she might have a gun, or some other mundane way of attacking you. You need me. You need my magic."

Sighing, he nodded. "Don't push yourself too hard."

"We're about to battle the arcane forces of evil, Desmond. There's no such thing as too hard."

He flashed an embarrassed smile and buckled his scabbard to his belt. I donned my magical arsenal, tucking my backup pieces into my pockets. I unhooked the amethyst necklace from the rearview mirror and buried it back in my purse, which I left beneath the seat so it wouldn't slow me down. Then I took Desmond's hand, and together we stepped off the road into jagged shadows.

Redwoods towered above us, blocking the stars. The true grandfather trees were over in the protected Muir Woods National Monument, but the rest of the park had its share of impressive growth. I wished I could use a glowstone like I'd created at the ranch, but any light would give away our approach.

Desmond moved smoothly, barely making a sound. In contrast my feet seemed to find every dry twig and crunchy leaf in the dirt. It seemed unfair that he could be almost twice my size, but move like a cat while I felt like a moose. I fell in behind him, putting my feet where he had to quiet my steps.

Wind shivered in the trees, and magic carried with it, kissing my skin. Gooseflesh crawled up my bare arms. _I'm here,_ the magic seemed to whisper. _Here if you want me. Here if you don't. One way or another, I'll find my way through you._

kadum. kadum. Kadum.

Kadum. Kadum. KADUM.

KADUM. KADUM. KADUM!

I pulled Desmond to a stop. "She's nearby," I whispered. "The magic is getting stronger."

"She hasn't used it yet," he murmured. "That means Kendall and Maribel are probably all right."

I nodded. It also meant the enchantress would have plenty of magic to throw at us when we fought.

We slowed our pace then, moving step by step like we had when escaping Maribel's apartment. My heart hammered in my chest, beating in time with the magic in the air. The drumming sped up and grew harder with each step, until the air seemed to sizzle with unchanneled power. My head, already aching from overexertion, began to throb. I concentrated on following Desmond's footsteps, murmuring quiet directions as I felt our way toward the magic.

The trees broke suddenly, marching away on either side to form a perimeter around a small bowl-like clearing. Desmond froze, then straightened with a relieved cry. "Kendall!" He took one step down into the clearing.

White lightning snapped through the still air. It didn't strike Desmond, but it dug into the dirt just below his feet. The loose earth gave way, sending him skidding on his side. His head smacked against a rock protruding from the dirt, and he tumbled down to land in a motionless heap at the bottom of the bowl.

I crouched. Maybe I hadn't been seen. Maybe I could still pull off an ambush, and avoid having to channel more magic through my battered brain. Maybe—

"Adrienne? I know you're there. Come out where I can see you!"

That voice ...

Numb with shock, I straightened up and stepped out of the trees to where the moon cast a crown of light around the clearing.

A ratty-looking bookcase sat at the bottom of the dip, crammed with various enchanting materials that could have come from my own workshop. Maribel lay near the shelves, unmoving. A few feet from her lay Kendall, curled in a fetal position. Closer to me was Desmond, equally still.

My enemy stood between them and me, chin-length blonde hair flapping in the wind, unable to hide her face.

"Sam?"

The teenager's face was grim. "It's everywhere, Adrienne. You said magic is beautiful. But it's trying to kill me. I can't stay ahead of it."

"Sam ... you enchanted those people? The insane shifters at the barn ... you did that to them?"

"I didn't mean to!" Her face was stricken. She held her hands out to either side—hands bedecked with rings and bracelets, I noted. "Those three guys—the wolves—they said they wanted to take some of the magic for me. I had made a bear shifter already, so I thought I could do it. But they showed up with knives, and they said if I didn't enchant them, they ... they would ..." Tears sprang to her eyes. She ground her teeth. "I was so scared, I did the magic wrong. And then I had to keep them somewhere, because everyone talks about how the Voids will hunt you down and kill you if you do magic. You have to understand, Adrienne. My dad won't notice if the Voids take me away. I've got nobody who cares about me. Nobody but me."

"It wasn't just the wolf-men," I said. "What about the woman you blinded, the one in the water tub?"

"She found me hiding in an abandoned house. She was a druggie, jacked up on something. She said she wanted to breathe underwater, and I just wanted her to go away ... I haven't hurt anybody on purpose!"

"The man with the fire breath? You put dozens of enchantments on him!"

"The first one didn't work! He went crazy, started trying to hurt me. I thought maybe if I found the right magic, put the right enchantment on him, I could fix him. I kept trying to fix them all. I tried so hard, but I couldn't do it. And I couldn't ask for help, because the Voids would find me. Then the fire-breathing one got away, and ..."

"You have an excuse for everything. What about Kendall?" I demanded, pointing to my prostrate friend, "What about Desmond? What about Maribel? What about the Void Hunter you killed in the stable?"

"He attacked me!" she shouted. She swept her hand across the unconscious bodies. "And they came to me. That one's wearing one of my bracelets. She stole it. I thought the Voids might be able to use my stuff to find me, like the cops do, so I made sure nobody could steal from me. I was just trying to keep myself safe."

"You set a magical trap, Sam. You're using it all wrong."

"I didn't mean for it to go this way! But what else was I supposed to do?" Her voice rose to a shriek. The wind picked up, and with it the magic. I could feel it drumming around us, filling the space between me and Sam with palpable force. "It won't stop," Sam went on, a tear running down her cheek. "It never stops. What is it for, if I can't use it against my enemies? Against the people always trying to hurt me?"

"I'm not your enemy, Sam. I don't want to hurt you."

"You didn't help me! You said you'd help, but you just told me the same thing everyone else did. 'Leave magic alone. You don't want that power.'" A cold sneer wiped away the innocent fear on her face. "Well, guess what? I've got it, wanted or not." She raised her hand to point at me.

I threw myself aside as a sizzle of lightning flashed through where I'd stood. Dirt caked my arms and jeans, and leaves stuck in my hair as I rolled back to my feet. Another blast of lightning shot toward me. I jerked my arm up and tapped my shield ring. Electric fire sprayed across the invisible wall, sparking out in the air.

"Sam, don't make me fight you!" I shouted.

Another bolt answered me. My shield wavered. Either I fled now, or I attacked before my defenses collapsed. My eyes fell on the unconscious bodies of my friends. Fleeing wasn't an option.

Drawing on my own ring of lightning, I waited for Sam's next attack. As the lightning crackled across my shield, I spun to one side and sent a bolt of my own arcing through the clearing.

Sam shrieked, caught off guard. For a moment I thought the bolt would hit, but she surprised me yet again. Two inches from her chest it stopped, crashing against a shield not unlike my own. Sam's hand went to a beaded necklace at her throat. So, she'd mastered shield enchantments, too. Fury twisted her face, and she sent blast after electrical blast my way. Blocking and dodging, I struggled to close the distance between us, to come within striking range.

Magic built around us, a growing pressure swirling into a storm. _KADUMKADUMKADUM_ it banged on my senses, a cacophony with us at its center. Between attacks, I caught glimpses of Sam's face. She felt the pressure, too, felt it digging into her, trying to burst free.

Halfway across the clearing, my shield ring ran out of magic. The shimmering wall of air flickered and died. Sam's next blast nearly took my head off. I rolled forward, coming up in a crouch, then immediately had to throw myself to one side to dodge her next attack. My hand scrambled at my pocket for another defensive enchantment. My sensory ring slipped onto my finger, and I seized its magic like a life preserver.

KADUMKADUMBDMDMDMBDMKADUMDRUMDUM

The world canted sideways. I felt like the ground had become a wall and I was slipping down it, unable to find the floor. Magic was all around me, above me, under me, and in me. Tapping the layered enchantments of the ring hadn't just accessed their magic, it had made me more sensitive to the perception of the magic in the air. Up was down, left was right, and all was wrong.

_This is what it feels like to go insane_ , I thought, as nausea filled not only my stomach but my arms and head. My pocket seemed to bind my hand like a manacle, clinging to my skin and keeping my fingers trapped with the sensory ring.

Fighting for some semblance of reality, I scanned the clearing. Sam's next bolt of lightning was coming toward me, but it seemed to zigzag. I'd driven Sam to the edge of the clearing, and she stood with her back to the trees, trees that reached hands of bark to seize her, but grabbed me instead. Desmond, Kendall, and Maribel lay in the leaves across the clearing, where the dirt was slowly parting to swallow them.

_It's not real_ , I thought. _Focus on your friends. You can't let the magic win._ I stared at Desmond, clinging to his presence like an anchor in a storm.

His hand was moving.

I was so shocked I nearly let Sam's lightning hit me. At the last moment I started to move, ducking beneath the zigzagging arc in tedious slow motion. Some of the lightning singed my ear. Pain crawled through my skin in drawn-out clarity. All the while my eyes remained fixed on Desmond, whose hand continued to creep toward the scabbard at his belt.

He was awake. He was preparing to attack. And the way we stood right now, Sam would see him before he came within thirty paces of her.

I had to lure her away.

My feet wouldn't work with the sensory ring overwhelming me. I fought to pry the ring off my finger, but my denim pocket clutched my fingers and made it hard to move. I wrenched my hand free, and in the process the ring slipped off. It rolled away into the leaves and dead brush leftover from last fall.

At once reality sped back up. The nauseous miasma of sensory information vanished. Sight, hearing, touch all returned to normal, and with them my perception of magic. The drumming still crowded my thoughts, but contrasted with the sickening deluge it had been before, it was bearable.

Sam's lightning ring ran low. She launched one last attack at me, a skinny jolt I dodged with ease. She dropped the spent ring and dug into her pocket. I used the opportunity to sprint for the far side of the clearing, away from Desmond and the others.

"You're going to hurt yourself, Sam!" I shouted. "Can't you feel the magic growing? It wants us. It wants you."

With a shriek she raised her hand, a new ring of simple metal glinting on her index finger. She charged me. I felt a surge of hope that she was about to come close, where I could use my other magic, but she drew up ten feet away and punched toward me. Ice materialized out of thin air, jagged shards that sped toward me like missiles. Cursing, I ducked behind the closest tree. Sharp icicles thudded into the tree behind me and whistled past on either side.

All the while the magical pressure grew.

I needed more weapons, more defenses. I scooped a handful of leaves from the ground, then seized a knot on the tree with my other hand. Then I drew in some of the storm.

So much magic flowed that I had what I needed in seconds. More tried to shove its way through, to drown me in the flood. I forced it away, fighting to keep out what I didn't want. It was like trying to hold a door cracked open against a hurricane. The magic drummed inside me, raw and strong, and I sent it into the tree knot. _Be firm as wood. Form a solid shield. Stand fast, and block my enemy's blows._

Then I gritted my teeth, and channeled the magic through myself into the leaves.

Serving as a channel was like lying on a hot bed of nails. Magic stabbed the inside of my flesh, trying to carve a way out. Heat burned inside, bringing a flush to every inch of my skin. My mouth dried to dust. My eyes stung. But in seconds the magic had flowed through, and I had a brand-new shield enchantment on my handful of leaves. My head ached, the fatigue from my earlier enchanting returning as if it had never left.

Panting to cool the lingering heat inside, I spun away from the tree and found myself facing Sam. She sprang back, out of my reach, and raised her ring. Icicles shot toward my head. I threw one of my leaves forward, calling upon its magic. As the ice spears passed by the leaf, they suddenly slowed and fell, as if they'd struck something solid. A few made it through and nipped my arms and cheeks, but they were small enough not to be lethal.

Sam's eyes widened, then clouded with anger. She threw more ice. I threw another leaf shield. I stepped back, luring her deeper into the trees. "You're outmatched, Sam," I called. "I have more experience."

With a growl she stripped the ice ring off and knelt to swirl her hand in the dirt, boring a small hole. Her other hand buried itself in her own handful of leaves. I had only a second to prepare before the ground gave way beneath me, threatening to bury me alive. A line of leaves smoked between us, and a few sparks flickered to life.

My legs were buried now, and I continued to sink. I slammed my hand against the closest smoking leaf and drew in magic from the air. The ache in my head became a throb. I grabbed the closest thing by my free hand—a stick—focused an enchantment on it, and channeled the magic back through the leaves Sam was using to attack me, targeting nothing in particular. _Be sticky as a stick,_ I thought. The words didn't matter. The point was for the magic to fail.

Flame burst from the dry detritus, the leaves overwhelmed by the magic channeling through them. Both enchantments went up in smoke. My "be a stick" magic recoiled back at me, drumming inside my skin. Sam cried out as the rest of the dissipated magic funneled back into her.

Quickly I buried my hand in the dirt around my legs, raising my other hand into the air. Ignoring the throb in my skull, I let in more magic and chanted, _Be free as air. Be loose and yielding. Do not hold or trap._

Heat filled me once more as I channeled the magic through myself. The dirt loosened around my legs, feeling as if it melted. When I opened my eyes I was still buried, but when I braced against the edge of the hole and boosted myself free, the dirt fell away like air. White spots danced before my eyes. I felt like I'd run a marathon, but I was free.

Sam was redirecting her own magic. A column of fire plumed before her, the flames separated into a cage-like lattice. Behind the smoke and orange light, Sam bit her lip, eyes focused. Sweat glinted on her brow. She shouted, "Trap her!" and thrust her hands forward. The flame cage shot toward me, curving at the edges, ready to enclose me in a burning prison.

I grabbed the closest rock and jabbed my fingers into the loose dirt, to where the soil held some moisture. _Soak all around you,_ I chanted. _Become a water source._

As the flames closed around me, liquid burst from the stone. A fountain sprayed in all directions, quenching the fire except for a few embers lingering at my feet.

Pain echoed throughout my body, each enchantment taxing me more and more. My knees shook, and I focused on the ground to keep my balance. A ring of burned leaves surrounded me, quenched by my water enchantment. Sam had magically coaxed the leaf fire I'd started to an inferno, then layered another enchantment atop the flames to turn it into a cage. Complex magic, and draining to perform. She'd made a mistake, wasting her energy like that.

Or so I thought. Smoke and water vapor cleared, giving me a glimpse of Sam. She stood across from me, steady on her feet, hands up and ready for more. My mouth opened in shock. Not only was she still upright, she didn't even look fatigued. She had to be channeling the magic through herself, like I was, but she was handling it far better.

She was a stronger enchantress than me, in my already fatigued state. Possibly stronger even when I was at my best.

Knowledge hit me with a deadly certainty. I couldn't beat her. Not now, not with a limitless supply of raw power available to her. I needed backup. Our fight had taken us deep into the woods, away from the clearing. Even if Desmond had managed to get up by now, he'd need help to find us in the dark.

I raised my voice, infusing it with false bravado. "Hurts, doesn't it? Using yourself as a channel?"

Sam spat a curse. "I'm used to pain." From her pocket she pulled a thick metal pen and threw it at me.

I jumped back just before the pen's enchantment activated. It burst into a spray of sharp metal, pieces flying in all directions like bullets. I crossed my arms to protect my face, but several shredded my shirt and cut jagged holes in my jeans. One flew straight into my calf, and I screamed in pain. My leg buckled, sending me to one knee. When I lowered my arms, Sam too bled from half a dozen small wounds. Seeing me down, she charged forward, fists ready to tackle me and pound me into the ground.

I quickly tapped the magic on my bracelet and conjured my dagger. Mist coalesced into the razor-sharp blade, the hilt cool and solid in my hand.

Sam pulled up short. She didn't lower her fists, but her head jerked as if avoiding a fly. The magic, I guessed, drumming on her as it drummed on me. Wincing, I pushed myself back to my feet, keeping the dagger out like a ward. "You're not the only one who knows pain," I hissed. "I can keep this up as long as you can, and I'm better at it. Give up."

"And let you hand me over to the Voids? No. If they're going to take me out, I'll go out fighting."

"You think you're so tough? You think you're a warrior?" _Please, Desmond, hurry up. I don't know how long I can keep bluffing._

KADUMKADUMKADUMKADUM!

"I have to be tough!" Sam's voice rose to an enraged shout. "You don't know what it's been like. The magic never stops. It's always there, always hitting me, on and on and on. I thought I could take a hit, but this ..." Her hands clenched into fists, over and over, working into a frenzy. "There's too much!" she shrieked, and flung her hand out toward me.

Smoky red fire burst from her palm and billowed toward me. I gasped, releasing my conjured dagger. With no time to counter the enchantment, I dove for the closest tree. Flames licked my ankles, igniting my jeans. I beat out the embers, biting my tongue to keep from screaming as heat seared my skin. _Pretend it's a glue gun burn_ , I thought. _This is nothing. This is nothing._

KADUM! KADUM! KADUM!

_That's something, though._ Despite all our use of it, the magic continued to grow, as if the local magic flowed through us like a drain. My head throbbed, not just from the magic but from exhaustion. I didn't think I could channel much more magic at all, much less through myself. Not the powerful, raw magic swirling in the air, anyway.

My hand brushed my chest, tracing a curving line. I did have another weapon, magic that knew me, would obey me easily if I called upon it. If it was the only way to stop Sam, was I willing to make that sacrifice? She showed no remorse. She was relentless. Someone had to stop her. Someone had to make her pay.

I would not let this enchantress hurt my friends and defile the art I loved. Swallowing hard, I forced myself back to my feet. My legs shook, and I limped around the tree to come back in sight of Sam.

Her fire enchantment ran out, the last few sparks flickering from her fingers and winking out to cinders. She drew in a sharp breath. Then another, panting. Her shoulders sagged, a moment of weakness I doubted she'd have let me see if she knew I was watching. Still panting, she wiped her eyes. Moisture glistened in them. Abruptly she cursed and straightened up, adjusting herself into a posture of strength.

Instantly I saw myself years ago. Teenaged, full of powers I didn't fully understand. Unloved by the family that should have shielded me. Unable to tell others what I was. Faking courage, faking fortitude. Acting like nothing bothered me, even when memories woke me crying in the night.

Afraid. Most of all, I had been afraid.

My hand jerked away from my tattoo. I couldn't kill Sam. Not unless there was no other way. Her fear was controlling her. It wasn't her magic I had to fight, it was those whispers of terror, those midnight voices telling her to trust no one, to run and hide, and when trapped, to fight.

"You're tiring, Sam," I called.

She spun and sent another gust of fire at me, igniting the leaves at my feet. A dark line flashed on her palm, forming a circular pattern before fading away. "Screw you. I'm fine."

I backed away from the embers. Smoke drifted up from spot flames that could easily grow into wildfire. "You're enchanting yourself, Sam. Fleshwriting. Using yourself as focus, channel, and target. That's not safe. Those people you drove insane? That's what did it."

Another dark line etched itself in her flesh. Another burst of fire shot from her palm. Again the dark line vanished, its magic used up. Sam's lips curled, and she hissed through clenched teeth.

"Sam, I'm serious! You know what happens to channels that overload with magic?"

"They burn."

"So what do you think that heat inside you means?"

Doubt flickered in her eyes, but then hardened. "You know what I thought when you enchanted my drawing? I saw the dress moving, and I thought, 'Magic can be beautiful. I didn't know that.'"

My heart ached. "It is beautiful, Sam. If you use it right."

"It's not!" She flung her hands wide. "Can't you feel it? Feel the anger in it? I tried to copy what you did, tried to make my drawings move, and the magic wouldn't listen! It's all a muddle. It wants too many things, and I can't stay ahead of it!"

I frowned. The magic drummed, unrelenting, but it wasn't angry, and it didn't want anything, not yet. It was raw, untapped. Eager, perhaps, aggressive, but not inclined toward specifics.

Sam's hands trembled. Traces of fire flickered on her fingertips. I sucked in a breath. "It's not the magic. It's you."

"You think I don't know that?" She grabbed a sharp rock from between her feet and closed her eyes, prepping another enchantment.

"Listen to me, Samantha! You're using a lot of power, but you're not doing it efficiently. Every time you enchant something, some of the spell is bleeding off and coming back at you. It's all collecting around you, in you. That's why you feel like it's demanding too many things. The more you use, the worse it gets. You have to stop!"

"I can't stop! If I stop, it'll kill me."

"Let me help you, Sam. We can dispel the magic, together."

"I can't trust you. You want to hand me over to the Voids."

A shadow stirred between the trees behind Sam. Desmond stepped silently into view. Moonlight gleamed on his bare sword. He met my eyes, took in my injuries and fatigue. His gaze slid to Sam, and his face grew grim. Slowly he approached, quiet as a shadow.

Fear gripped my chest. "Sam, please! Trust me!"

"I don't trust anyone."

"I know how you feel."

"You can't know!" Sam opened her eyes and glared at me. "You know what my dad said when I told him I thought I was in trouble? He said 'good riddance.' You know why I'm so good at handling pain? You know what it's like to have no one to go to, no one who can understand?"

"I do know. I know exactly what that's like."

"I don't believe you."

I tugged my shirt aside, baring my collarbone and an edge of my tattoo.

Sam froze.

"See this tattoo?" I said. "See its size? My family did that to me—the people who raised me. They meant to sacrifice me, to use this magic and my life force with it. My parents were part of it. I haven't seen them since I was younger than you, when I ran away to keep myself alive."

Desmond stepped closer. He'd closed half the distance between them.

I pointed at the tattoo with my free hand. "You've channeled enough magic. I think you know what kind of pain this brought with it."

Desmond took another step.

Words rushed out of me. "You have to listen to me, Sam. The Voids want to kill you, and the magic wants to kill you, and your family may very well want to kill you, but I can help. I can help you get rid of the magic, teach you to keep ahead of it. I can save you, Sam. You just have to let me."

A lump worked its way down her throat. "How can I trust you?" she whispered.

Desmond stood a few feet behind her. He raised his sword.

The moment you start to trust is the easiest moment to get hurt.

I raised my voice and looked past Sam. "Back off, Desmond."

Sam jumped. She whirled and backpedaled, out of range of Desmond's blade. Desmond froze, staring at me with his face a mask of questions. Sam braced to throw the sharp rock at his head.

"Leave him alone, Sam! You've hurt enough people."

"He was gonna kill me!"

"I could have let him. You asked how you can trust me. Well, I'm showing you right now." I held out a hand. My arm shook. Magic drummed within my bones, punctuating every breath. "This is your one chance, Sam. If you don't let me help you, you're going to die. It's a tossup whether the Voids or the magic will get you first."

Her lip trembled. More tears formed. "There's too much. Too much magic. It's always there."

"Yes. It'll always be there. You'll wake up in the night with pressure trying to drive you insane. You'll hide in restaurant bathrooms and pull off to the side of the road because you have to channel the magic. It will always be there, waiting to hurt you. But you can learn to live with it. You can build a life around it. You don't have to let it win."

Sam cast a wary look at Desmond. He made no move toward her, though he didn't lower his sword. She scooted a step toward me. Then another.

Then she broke and ran toward me, leaping the embers kindling flames in the dry brush. Her palm slapped onto my open hand.

KADUMkadumKadumKadumkadumKADUM!

Chaos. Confusion. Anxiety. Magic burst from Sam into me like I was a pressure valve. My already weak legs buckled. I fell to the dirt, dragging her down with me. Pain exploded in my head and beneath my skin as the magic fought to get free through my already-drained body.

"Adrienne? Adrienne?" Sam's voice came from far away, thin and quivering. Her hand in mine was my only grounding for where she was.

I raised our joined hands to the starlit sky. My other hand fumbled for Sam's cheek, found the droplets clinging by her eyes. "Rain," I chanted, aloud. "Let water fall from the sky. Become a storm, a deluge on this land."

The magic swirled through my hand, focused on Sam. It absorbed the tempest within her, the emotional turmoil inside. It absorbed the release represented by her drying tears. It became her, an embodiment of her essence.

I prayed the next step wouldn't kill me, then channeled all of that magic through myself, targeting the sky.

Agony surged through me, filling me instantly from my hair to the soles of my feet. Distantly I heard myself screeching, felt my body buck against the throes of torture. I hadn't felt this since the day I got my tattoo, the day my world shattered. It felt like the magic would never end, an eternal stream gathering around Sam and me, focused on Sam through my hand, then channeled through my body back into the air. Wave after wave of pain gripped me, and I felt my fingertips slipping from Sam's skin.

Then Sam's grip tightened. Her arm stiffened, keeping our joined hands in the air. She clutched my palm against her face, holding it in place, keeping the magical circuit alive. Her balance wavered, but then strong arms wrapped around us both, and I inhaled Desmond's earthy scent. They held me—we held each other—until the last vestiges of magic burst out of our joined hands and streamed to the sky.

# Chapter 25

RAIN PATTERED SOFTLY on my skin. I opened my eyes to see clouds greying the sky, releasing the remnants of a downpour. No thunder or lightning intruded, just the gentle tap, tap, tap of cool droplets on my burning flesh.

All was quiet.

I realized I was lying against Desmond, my head in his lap. Sam sat beside me, fingers still intertwined with mine. Both of them watched me. Desmond's hand stroked my soaked hair.

Sam swallowed when she saw me looking at her. "Is ... is it over?"

My senses tested the air.

_kadum ... kadum ... kadum ..._ distant and light.

I nodded. The movement sent an explosion of pain through my head. I groaned, releasing Sam's hand to clutch my skull.

"Shh," Desmond said. "You lost consciousness for a while. You need to rest."

"Uh-huh," I grunted, waiting for the world to stop spinning.

"You got rid of it," Sam said. "The magic in me. The pieces that all wanted different things. You took it out of me. I feel almost normal."

"That won't last," I said. I pushed against Desmond, trying to sit up. He had to hold me steady. "It'll come back. You need to learn to channel it safely, a little at a time, so it doesn't get that bad again."

"Will ..." Sam's eyes dropped to her lap. Her voice was barely a whisper. "Will you teach me?"

I started to nod, but thought better of it. "Yes," I said instead. "It'll take practice. A lot. But until you can handle it yourself, I'll be there to help."

With both of them to hold me upright, I made it to my feet. We shuffled together through the woods, past the smoking remnants of Sam's fires, through puddles and mud, to the clearing where we'd left Kendall and Maribel. I found my sensory ring in the dirt, and tucked it in my pocket, safely away from my bare skin. I didn't think bombarding my senses with input would help anybody right now.

Kendall stirred as I sat down beside her. The bracelet's magic must have bled out, releasing her from its hold. "Hey," she mumbled when she saw me. "I think I got enchanted."

Relief flooded me. "You did. But you're going to be okay."

She pushed herself up on her elbows. Wet leaves clung to her spiky red hair as she looked around. "Where are we? Where's—" Her eyes fell on Sam. "Gah! Adrienne, it's her! She's the one who—"

"I know, Kendall. It's okay. She's with us now."

"Oh. Okay. Cool." She studied Desmond standing protectively over me, then groaned and flopped back into the dirt and shut her eyes. "My head is killing me. How'd you guys find me?"

"Magic."

"Haha. No, really."

"Magic. Plus some breaking and entering, fleeing the cops, and visiting one of those online paranormal forums. You might know it. Ye Olde Circle."

Eyes still closed, Kendall asked, "Potato or pasta salad?"

"Potato."

"We can't be friends anymore."

Yep. Kendall would be fine.

My bigger problem lay further down the clearing. Maribel slowly pushed herself upright, blinking through rapidly clearing confusion. I tugged on Desmond's arm, and he easily lifted me back to my feet. Rain plastered Maribel's blonde hair against her skull. When she saw me, I thought she would start spouting accusations, but instead she pointed at Sam. "Enchantress! That's the one who did this to me! She's behind all of it. You have to kill her."

Sam tensed, but I laid a hand on her arm. "Nobody's killing anybody, Maribel. Sam isn't a threat. She's just a scared girl."

Maribel stumbled to her feet, grunting with the effort. Her boots slipped in the mud, and she snarled. A hint of fur appeared around her eyes. "The law is the law. Enchantresses who use magic against people must die. Desoto, take care of it."

Desmond didn't move.

"I gave you an order, Reserve Desoto," Maribel barked.

"I'm not obeying it, Maribel." Desmond lifted his chin. His black shirt clung to his sculpted torso, and little rivulets of water ran down from his raven hair. "The threat is gone. I don't kill unless there's a damn good reason."

"The Union will have your hide for this."

"Let me talk to Bane Harrow," I said. "He'll make an exception for Sam."

Maribel scoffed. "Not likely."

"He will if I make it a condition of my working for him."

Her eyes widened. Her fingernails thickened and lengthened into claws. "He won't."

"If you were sure of that, you wouldn't look so uncomfortable."

"Enchanters are dangerous, even when they mean well." Maribel spouted the sentence as if it were part of a creed. Maybe for her, it was. "I won't let this threat stand." She hunched, and her arms sprouted fur, wet and bedraggled in the rain.

Sam cried out and ducked behind me.

"Maribel, stop!" I shouted. "Listen to me, for once."

She snarled, just before her face shifted into a feline snout and fangs.

She leaped. 200 pounds of mountain lion knocked me aside, sending me sprawling in the mud. Fresh pain burst throughout my body, leaving me ringing like a bell. I scrambled for some hint of magic, some way to defend myself, but my arms and legs wouldn't obey me. Shouts echoed, then an animal hiss and a cry of pain.

I managed to roll over and get my conjured dagger working. The drumming of the active enchantment jabbed my raw nerves like a sharp poker. I had to release the enchantment, or risk passing out again.

When my vision cleared, Sam was huddled on the ground at Desmond's feet, sobbing. "I'm sorry," she cried. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to. I panicked. I'm so sorry."

Desmond had his sword half out of its sheath, but he wasn't looking at Sam. I followed his gaze to a tawny-haired mass of fur lying on its side in the muck.

Oh god, no ...

The lion's chest rose and fell. Maribel was alive.

My relief was short-lived. A moment later the big cat rolled over, and I saw what Sam had done. Maribel's paws twitched, her muscles spasming. Her eyes rolled in her head, tracking things that weren't there. Her tail seemed to be trying to tie itself in a knot. The chaotic eyes glanced at me. Madness lived within.

A new black line traced a circular pattern on Maribel's neck. A single, unbroken line, tattooed into her fur.

"I was just trying to make her stop," Sam wailed. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Kendall's feet squelched in the mud beside me. She reached down to pull me up. Leaning on her, I trudged over to the others.

I reached out to lightly touch Desmond's unsheathed sword. "You were going to kill her?"

He swallowed and shoved the blade back into its scabbard. He watched Maribel roll to her feet, crawl a few feet forward, then flop back to her side. "I was afraid she'd leave me no choice. It might have been easier if I did kill her. This will raise questions."

"I'll deal with it." Wearily, I put a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Get up, Sam. It's okay."

"I didn't want to hurt her."

"I know. But take a good look at her. Remember the people you enchanted before. This is what happens when magic goes wrong. This is what we can do, even if we have the best intentions. Never forget that."

Shaking, Sam nodded.

Something rumbled at the edge of the clearing. We turned to see half a dozen black-clad people on motorcycles ride out of the shadows. Their leader skidded to a halt and removed his rain-spattered helmet, exposing a bald head and a familiar, grim face.

"Reserve Desoto," Axel said. "I see you've caught our runaway. That _might_ make up for your other actions today." He peered around us to where Maribel still lay on the ground. "What happened?"

Before Desmond could try to lie, I jumped in. "Maribel was the enchantress. She abducted Kendall using that magical bracelet from the cellar, to lure me here. She wanted to frame me, kill me so you'd think you'd stopped the threat. We fought. I won." My eyes narrowed. "And I'm guessing since you haven't interrupted me yet, you concluded this, too."

Axel's expression didn't change. "Maribel's prejudice against you did seem excessive. And it was suspicious that she went missing when the squirrel shifter did." His eyes landed on Kendall. "I see she's back to normal."

"Never been normal in my life," Kendall said. "How'd you find us? Your timing sucks."

"We tracked her car," he said, nodding to me.

My eyes closed. "The cops at Maribel's apartment. They did find my car."

Axel nodded. "They slipped a bug on it, then let you drive off. We thought it would be the fastest way to locate the enchantress."

"You could have just asked for my help."

"At the time we still thought you might be the one we hunted." He glanced again at Maribel. "Is she—"

"Doubly enchanted," I said, pointing to the new tattoo on her neck. "She tried to channel magic through herself. It backfired."

"Your story leaves out any mention of you enchanting other people. Convenient."

"It's the truth." I stared back at him, level. "You can count my injuries if you don't believe she was trying to kill me. And I have three witnesses who will back me up."

Axel frowned at Sam. "Who's she?"

Sam flinched. I didn't. "This is my apprentice. I'm teaching her how to channel safely. And how to obey all of your rules. She's no danger to anybody."

Axel grunted. "Harrow will want to register her."

"Fine. We'll both come by his office next week."

"You too?"

"Yes. I've decided to accept his job offer. If you're going to use me to solve your magical problems, I might as well get paid for it. I have to pay this big fine somebody slapped me with for no reason." And now that I had someone to protect, I needed all the powerful allies I could get. I wouldn't break my morals for Bane Harrow, but if it kept Sam safe, I could bend them, just a little.

Axel's stony face remained stony, but the barest hint of a smile flickered at the corner of his mouth. "You're very fierce for someone so tiny."

Kendall snorted. "You're very _still here_ for someone with an enchantress to lock up."

Axel rolled his eyes. Two of his companions helped him drape Maribel across the back of his motorcycle. They nodded to Desmond as they passed, and the looks they gave me were respectful, if not friendly. Guess I was no longer a criminal. Check one thing off the to-do list.

As the Void squad roared away into the trees, something spat from beneath their wheels and hit me in the shin. I bent, carefully, and picked it up.

A shred of tire rubber. Similar to the half tire still sitting on my worktable at home.

I turned and handed the rubber fragment to Sam. "Here. This fits with a bigger tire fragment I've been keeping. I thought it would speak to me, but I think it's a project for you."

Her nose wrinkled. "A tire fragment? What am I supposed to do with it?"

"Make something."

"It's garbage."

"Make something anyway." I made her hand close around the scrap. "You're my apprentice, Sam, and that means you're an artist now. This is your first assignment. You're going to turn that road trash into something beautiful. Maybe not tomorrow, or the next day, but at some point you'll figure it out."

Sam looked doubtful, but she tucked the tire fragment into her back pocket.

Leaning on my friends, I walked out of the clearing as the first rays of dawn broke through the dwindling rain.

# Epilogue

THE ONE WHO WENT BY CROW scrolled through the mines of data. There had to be something here. The investigation had tapped dozens of members, sent them off to God knew how many places. Somebody had to have taken notes.

She accessed the next file and her breath caught. Better than notes, this. With a smile she copied the discovery to her phone, then logged onto her account.

He was there. Of course he was; he was always there. She opened a message to him and started tapping at the keypad.

_Crow_ : Got something for you. A little present. Thought you might find it interesting.

_LifeinShadow_ : Were you seen?

_Crow:_ It's after hours. Nobody's here. Stop being paranoid.

_LifeinShadow_ : You're a well-placed asset. There's no such thing as paranoid.

_Crow_ : I wasn't seen.

_LifeinShadow_ : Good. What do you have?

Crow sent the files and watched the window, expectant.

_LifeinShadow_ : Interesting.

_Crow_ : Is this what you were looking for?

_LifeinShadow_ : I can't tell you anything. You know that. But ... if you can find more like this, G would appreciate it.

_Crow_ : Will do.

<LifeinShadow has closed the chat window>

The one who went by Crow glanced at the tall windows. Dawn was just breaking, sliding its way down the lines of empty cubicles. At the far end of the floor, a large, windowless office stood locked and closed. She'd never broken in there. That was a risk not yet worth taking. But maybe soon. If what she'd just sent was as important as she thought.

She smiled at her phone, at the photo of the young Hispanic woman with the paint-spattered jeans. At the tiny hint of a black line barely visible on her chest through the tear in her shirt.

Crow smiled and deleted the photo and all traces of the conversation. It was time to go to work. Time to play her role, and wait, and hope for the day when she, and the others like her, would see their patience finally pay off.

#  Enchantress Under Pressure

Book Two of the Arcane Artisans Series

Magic is breaking.

Newly recruited by the Void Union, enchantress Adrienne Morales plans to stay on good terms with her magic-immune handlers. That's hard to do when everyone knows about the enchantment tattoo storing catastrophic magic on her body. Then she discovers a murder victim with an identical tattoo. That corpse means only one thing: the cult that enchanted Adrienne has a lethal operative in town, and her conflict with the Voids just became her smallest problem.

With mysterious fires destroying Voids across the nation, the Union Legionnaire has his hands full. Catching the murderer is up to Adrienne. But as her search intensifies, magic begins breaking down around her: Ghosts rise, enchantments go haywire, and the specter of war looms over San Francisco. Plagued by fears from her past, mistrust from the Voids, and the sudden unreliability of her powers, Adrienne isn't sure where to turn.

Worse, Adrienne's life isn't the only one hanging in the balance. If she goes down, her friends will fall beside her, and the entire city might be next. To defend the paranormal world, she must stop the murderer, uncover the cult's secret plot, and decide whom to trust–when she's not even sure she can trust herself.

Grab your copy today!

#

# Author's Note

Thank you for reading _Enchantress Undercover_! If you enjoyed it, please leave a review on the site where you purchased it. Even a few words can make a big difference.

This book went through a ton of revisions before it came into your hands, and many people had a hand in its development. They all deserve handmade enchanted talismans of safety and fortune, but since magic is sadly outside my grasp, I'll settle for giving enthusiastic shout-outs.

Thank you to my writing buddies, Anela Deen and Intisar Khanani; to my sensitivity reader, Ximena Silva, and my Colombian culture consultant, Dámaris Martinez-Adkins; to my beta readers and editors, Tahlia, John Arthur, Mitch, Shauna, Jocelyn, and Marjorie.

A somber thank you to Katrina (Spiletta42) for the early influence on my writing. You will be missed.

Major gigantiform bouncing up-and-down thanks to my husband. I couldn't do any of this without your feedback, support, and love.

Thanks to God for the blessing of being able to work in my passion.

Finally, thanks to you, Reader. Your loyalty means everything to me, and I appreciate every moment you spend hanging out in my imaginary worlds.

# About the Author

A. C. Spahn is the author of the USA TODAY bestselling _Endurance_ series and the _Arcane Artisans_ series. Her shorter works have been published by _Daily Science Fiction_ , _Star*Line_ , _Outposts of Beyond_ , _Disturbed Digest_ , and others.

She wanted to be an interstellar starship captain when she grew up. Since nobody was hiring, she became a writer instead. She enjoys breaking boards with her fists, organizing messy rooms, and analyzing sci-fi physics. When not commanding imaginary starships, she lives in Pennsylvania with her husband, son, and feline overlord.

Visit www.acspahn.com to see more of her work, subscribe to her seasonal newsletter, and get in touch.

# Other Books by A. C. Spahn

Science Fiction

Endurance: The Complete Series

Urban Fantasy

Arcane Artisans Series

Enchantress Undercover

Enchantress Under Pressure

Enchantress Underground

Enchantress Under Fire

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