The Enchanted Writes Book One (7 page)

So Henrietta had done the only thing she
could think of, and had twisted her hair into a bun, cramming the
hairpin through it like a hairpiece. Then she ran to work.

Unlike her display last night, when she’d
been fully capable of jumping onto buildings in a single bound,
Henrietta lost her grace that morning, and was back to being
entirely uncoordinated. As she ran along, she collected the side of
a trash-can, bruising her shin something horrible. She also banged
her head on a sign, leaving a nasty bruise on her forehead. But she
made it to the cafe, and in time for the lunch-hour rush.

Maria was there waiting for her in the
doorway, and she promised Henrietta that they would have a good
chat after work.

It was a surreal experience picking up her
apron, tying it around her middle, and getting behind the
counter.

It was a busy day, and the cafe was full.
From firemen to policemen, to people who had wandered in off the
street to get out of the sunshine – Sizzle Cafe was always
popular.

While Henrietta was usually fantastic with
customers, and could on any ordinary day chat until the cows came
home, she was deathly silent. She offered up bare smiles whenever
anyone said hello, and when she wasn't behind the coffee machine,
she found herself staring off out of the plate-glass windows, a
preoccupied look on her face.

She kept checking her hair too, bringing her
fingers up until they brushed over the hairpin.

“What did you get up to last night?”

Henrietta turned to see Patrick Black
walking up to the counter and sitting up on one of the tall
stools.

Her heart started to beat wildly and her
mouth was dry.

“Sorry?” her voice shook.

A single thought was running through her
head: he knows.

Patrick gave a soft chuckle, then let his
eyebrows clamp over his eyes as he nodded towards her. He brought a
hand up and tapped his head. “The bruise over your eye.”

She brought her fingers up, pressed them
into her skin, and then winced. She also let her shoulders deflate,
and she let out a relieved sigh. “I ran into a sign,” she
admitted.

Jimmy Field appeared at Patrick's side, and
he gave a low chuckle as he did.

Jimmy and Patrick were good friends. Despite
the fact that the both of them vied for the affections of Marcia
Gosling, that didn't stop them from hanging out. Henrietta had no
idea how that worked, but figured it had something to do with
Marcia's fantastic good luck. Her efforts to sleep her way around
town never resulted in any hatred or ill feeling towards her, and
the mere fact that two men could remain friends while still
attempting to woo her was conclusive evidence that Marcia had no
ordinary human level of luck.

“Ran into a sign, you know, that sounds like
you, Henrietta,” Jimmy pointed out, a beautiful smile pushing up
his cheeks.

On any other day, she might have paused and
ogled the two. Patrick and Jimmy would easily be the hottest men in
town, and they were so far out of her league that it wasn't
funny.

Henrietta was in no mood to stare at their
loveliness today. Instead she kind of gave them a dead-eyed look
and went back to wiping down the counter.

Jimmy's chuckle stopped, and out of the
corner of her eye she saw Jimmy and Patrick exchange a look. A
mildly worried look.

“Are you all right, Henrietta?” Patrick
asked, a note of professionalism running through his voice.

Henrietta didn't answer him. She kept wiping
at a non-existent spot on the counter, putting her elbow into it,
even though there was no mark there to be cleaned off. If she put
all her attention into cleaning or working, she could keep her mind
off what had happened last night.

A witch. An actual witch. Magic, wands,
spells, and a man in a ridiculous leather jacket. Not to mention
her own costume....

“Henrietta,” Patrick's voice was louder, and
it forced her to look up and offer him a quick blink.

The man looked clearly concerned, and so did
Jimmy. The calm, friendly edge was gone from their
countenances.

“You should have taken the day off,” Jimmy
nodded at her, a frown forming on his lips. “Considering what
happened yesterday—”

Henrietta looked up at him sharply.

“With the fire,” he continued.

Her shoulders deflated and she looked to the
side, blinking, bringing her hand up and touching her hairpin.

“Why don't you head home?” Patrick
suggested.

The two of them were so obviously concerned,
and somehow it served to make them all the more attractive. There
was something about fantastically handsome burly men in uniform
looking out for you that had to make any girl swoon.

Henrietta was in no mood to swoon, and she
also couldn't afford to take the day off.

“I'm sure Maria will understand,” Patrick
said as he got off his stool, “it's inappropriate to have you come
back to work so soon after the incident.”

Maria would not understand. Maria was a ball
breaker. Maria was one hell of a woman and believed in her own
special kind of discipline. Short of an actual letter from a doctor
or a lawyer, there was no way she was going to let Henrietta head
home today. Maria was fully aware she’d suffered smoke inhalation
yesterday, but had been given the all clear from the doctor. Maria
was also aware that Henrietta was the cafe's best barista, and
tended to bring in far more customers when she was at work.

Henrietta shook her head and tried to give
them both a reassuring smile, but she couldn't manage it. Though
she spread her lips, it looked a hell of a lot more like a grimace.
So she brought her hand up and gave a cough to hide it.

“Are you okay?” Jimmy asked, no doubt
thinking that her cough meant she was about to choke up her lungs,
a delayed effect of the smoke inhalation and shock.

She shook her head, then she nodded it.

Patrick was already on his feet, and he was
surveying the cafe looking for Maria. So Henrietta had to do
something. Short of pulling out her hairpin and writing the words
“sit back down in your seat, Patrick,” she had to find some way to
stop him from heading over to Maria.

So it was time to lie.

There was only one kind of lie that would
get both of these men to pay attention.

“It's my sister,” Henrietta said through a
hearty and faked sigh.

Patrick turned around, and so did Jimmy. In
fact, the two of them looked like dogs who had heard the dinner
bell.

“What about your sister?” Jimmy snapped.

“Is Marcia okay?” Patrick followed up,
sitting back down on his stool.

Henrietta had to press her lips hard
together not to smile. It was so bizarre that the mention of her
sister's name could have such power over these two professional and
capable men. It was like Marcia turned them into malleable putty,
and even the mere mention of her name made the men melt on the
spot.

Henrietta blinked. “She is angry at me,” she
said through faked glumness.

Jimmy nodded. It was a knowing move.
“Oh.”

They had all been there before. All three of
them had been on the receiving end of Marcia's legendary anger.
That was the thing about being a full-time beautiful drama queen:
Marcia could get dramatic easily, and woe betide if you were on the
wrong end of that drama.

“I was meant to go to her house and have
dinner last night,” Henrietta noted, “she wasn't exactly happy when
I couldn't make it,” she grimaced. To be fair, she was telling the
complete truth here; Marcia was angry at her. But the prospect of
her sister being mad at Henrietta was not what made her go staring
off into space, and it was not what was making her so edgy today.
Henrietta was not about to tell the town's finest police officer
and fireman what exactly was up with her.

“You could try flowers,” Patrick suggested
helpfully.

She pursed her lips and shook her head. “You
only try flowers with Marcia when she has been sick or she has
demanded them.”

The two men looked interested, as if they
were ready to take notes.

“Chocolates?” Jimmy offered. “She seems to
always like chocolates.”

“She likes the boxes,” Henrietta noted as
she shook her head, “she won't eat them, in case she gets fat.”

“I didn't know that,” Jimmy looked
scandalized. “I've been buying her the finest boxes of chocolates I
can afford.”

She shrugged. “As soon as she gets them, she
chucks out the chocolates and keeps the empty boxes. Apparently she
likes the color and patterns.”

Jimmy crumpled a bit.

“Look, it's okay, thank you both for your
help, but I'm sure I'll get through this.” Henrietta tried to blink
prettily, but there was no point. She was never going to get the
eye of either Patrick or Jimmy. They both viewed her as just
Marcia's sister, and only an avenue to learn more about the blonde
bombshell, and never as a romantic prospect in herself.

Which made Henrietta glum. In another second
she reminded herself she didn't have the time to be glum; she had
found out she was some kind of magical Witch Hunter.

Her lips crumpled together and she gave an
odd and loud swallow.

“You’ll be okay; Marcia will forget
eventually,” Patrick tried.

“Thank you.” With that, she went back to
attempting to clean the already pristine bench. This time neither
Patrick nor Jimmy looked on at her with great concern; they were
clearly satisfied by her excuse.

The day dragged on, and every single time
Henrietta looked at the clock, it seemed as if the minute hands had
frozen in place. A few times she brought her hand up to her
hairpin, with the sudden idea of writing “make time go faster,” but
of course she never did it. She desperately wanted to run home,
lock the doors, pull the curtains, and whip out her hairpin. She
wanted to write Witch Hunter in the air with it, to see what would
happen.

As the day drew on, and the normal drudgery
of her life continued, she began to realize how fantastic last
night had been. Could she be a magical Witch Hunter? Could such a
thing exist? What of the strangely-dressed Brick? Could a man so
unflappable, odd, and powerful be real?

Henrietta had to wait until the end of her
shift to get any answers.

It was when she was walking home, and she
flagged down a bus, that her normal and boring day took a turn.

She usually didn't take the bus; she didn't
live that far away from where she worked. Plus, she always liked
the light exercise. But with ominous-looking rain clouds building
on the horizon, she had decided the bus was her only option.

She was in a hurry to get home. She was in a
hurry to push all the furniture to the side in her bedroom and to
take up her magical hairpin.

When she sat on the bus, it took Henrietta a
long while to realize that it was empty save for her and the
driver. In fact, it wasn't until the bus took a turn in the wrong
direction that she looked up.

Had she gotten on the wrong bus? Wasn't it
meant to turn left at Hickory Street?

For a while she sat there, pressing herself
closer to the glass so she could get a better view of where it was
driving. Eventually she realized the bus was heading out of town.
That's when she got to her feet and cleared her throat.

Latching a hand onto a handrail so she
didn't fall over considering how damn uncoordinated she was,
Henrietta turned towards the driver. “Excuse me, but where are we
headed? I think I may have gotten on the wrong bus.”

The driver didn't reply.

She took several steps forward, always
ensuring to latch her hand over a rail so she didn't tumble over
her own feet. “Excuse me, but where are we going? I think you
better let me out; my stop is in the other direction.”

The driver still didn't answer.

It wasn't until she made her way up to the
front of the bus that she figured out why. The driver was not
wearing an ordinary cap. He wasn't even wearing an ordinary
uniform. He was in a full leather jacket with a black leather
Akubra.

He turned around and offered her a grin.

Brick.

Henrietta gripped harder onto the rail she
was leaning next to, and she spluttered. “What are you doing here?
Are you a bus driver?” It was a stupid question. From her brief
experience with this man, she could bet that he was not a sodding
bus driver. He was a warrior monk, with ninja-quick, lightning-like
skills, a magical crossbow, and a jacket that seemed capable of
swallowing anything.

Brick shook his head. “Don't worry, I used
to drive the bus at the Warrior Monk Monastery; I have my bus
license.”

It was such an incongruous thing to say, but
at least it made her snort. Then she realized she was on a bus with
Brick the warrior monk, headed out of town. “Where are you taking
me?” she hissed.

“I know, I know, it's not night yet, and I
did promise to come and get you at night. The only problem is, we
have to get to work now. I have heard news of a witch on the
outskirts of town, and she is playing around in the forest
unfortunately.” Brick shook his head briefly.

Henrietta clamped a hand on her face,
crumpled her eyes closed, and shook her head. “What are you talking
about?”

“Really? Do I have to explain that you are a
warrior woman Witch Hunter again?” Brick turned around in his seat,
not bothering to glance at the road, and giving her pause to wonder
whether the man did have his bus license.

Somehow he managed to keep the bus straight,
and avoid every single cyclist and car in his path, while fixing
Henrietta with a disgruntled look.

“You don't need to repeat that,” she assured
him after a moment. “But...” she trailed off. Maybe Brick did need
to repeat the story again, because maybe she still couldn't believe
it.

Brick sighed and gave a croaking cough into
his hand. “Excellent. You should take the time to transform.” He
nodded towards the back of the bus. “There isn't much room here, so
you might bang into a couple of rails, so be as careful as you
can.”