The Enchanted Writes Book One (18 page)

Brick stood up, pulled off his rubber
gloves, thrust them into his jacket, and then did the same with the
apron. “I see.” He crossed his arms and looked thoughtful.

“Do you think it has something to do with
the witches?”

“You tell me, Warrior Woman Henrietta.”
Brick nodded at her. “What does your instinct say? What does your
warrior brain tell you?”

“That it does,” she answered, forcing
herself to take a breath as she did. “I don't know, but as I was
listening to them have that conversation, I suddenly felt so
uneasy. It's as if I know who is behind it and I know what is going
on. I could just swear that the rumor of the disappearance has to
do with the witches. There was a policeman there, and he said that
there have been no missing people reported, but if a witch was seen
disappearing, then of course it wouldn't have been reported,
because there would be no one to miss her.”

“Flesh out your ideas,” Brick suggested as
he sat down alongside her.

“Hear me out, but if somebody saw a witch
disappearing into the construction site, they may have assumed it
was a person, and that might have started up the rumor. But of
course the police would never have been able to confirm anything,
because of course the witch isn't going to appear on a missing
persons list.”

Brick nodded, and fortunately he did not
laugh at her and point out that her suggestion was ridiculous.
“These are very probable happenings.”

“But if it was a witch,” she swallowed hard,
“then what was she doing down the tunnel? And what about the other
disappearances, the other thefts? What could be going on?”

Brick narrowed his eyes and looked
thoughtful, even tapping his finger on his chin. “You may have
found a coven then.”

Henrietta looked up sharply. “A what?”

Brick nodded. “A coven.”

“You don't think, you don't think....” The
uneasy feeling in her stomach doubled. “That it has something to do
with Witch King Hellier?”

“That would be the logical conclusion. You
must remember that the Witch King would be in control of all witch
activity in this city. If you have come across the witch coven,
then no doubt the Witch King would be connected to it. Whether or
not he would be located there himself, I cannot guess. I imagine he
is very mobile, and resides in many residences. Remember that witch
kings, unlike an ordinary witch, will come out during the day and
will interact with people. They will acquire aliases, even suburban
homes and dogs, and they will attempt to fit in.”

Henrietta hadn't forgotten that, and it was
the prime reason she was having trouble sleeping. What if she ever
came across Hellier in the street? Brick had assured her that the
Witch King would not be able to recognize her, that her costume
would hide her identity. But what if Henrietta said something or
did something to indicate who she was?

“I suggest we investigate this, but perhaps
not in person.” Brick plunged a hand into his jacket and brought
out a phone.

“You have a mobile? I didn't know that,” she
leaned across the table to get a better look.

Brick yanked his mobile phone back and
covered it with his hand.

“Don't spy on me,” he reprimanded. “And yes,
I have a mobile. Us warrior monks always run with the times.” With
that he stood up and walked out of the room.

She tried listening to what he was saying,
but as soon as she walked close enough to the door to pick up on
his conversation, she heard a rustling sound, and he moved off with
his trademark speed. She gave up, went and hopped in the shower,
and afterwards set about making tea.

Brick was gone for some time, but
mysteriously appeared the second she set his bowl on the table.

“So, are we going to the construction site
tonight?” Henrietta asked with interest.

Brick shook his head. “This is a
reconnaissance job, a job for my warrior monk brethren. They will
scout this out, and I will be informed if anything comes up. So
tonight, Warrior Woman Henrietta, you have a holiday.” Without
another word, Brick brought his food towards him and started to
shovel it into his mouth like he was a starving pig at the
trough.

She finished off her meal, left the dishes
for Brick, then she wandered about the house at a loss.

Considering her nights were so busy these
days, she didn't know what to do with herself when she wasn't
running around saving the day. She got a reprieve when her phone
rang. The reprieve didn't last however, because it was Marcia.

“Is he there? Brick? Is he there with you?”
Marcia snapped.

Henrietta couldn't count the number of
times Marcia had asked her that question. Every single time she
rang these days, she would always want to know if Brick was
anywhere nearby. Henrietta fancied that Marcia was probably in her
car, ready to dart around in an instant if there was so much as a
hint that Brick was in the same suburb, let alone house.

“I haven't seen him for days,” Henrietta
lied.

“Oh,” Marcia sounded powerfully
disappointed. “Well, have you heard about the ball then? Do you
know if he has a date?”

Henrietta shook her head in confusion at the
quick change in subject. “Sorry? What are you talking about,
Marcia?”

“The ball, the masquerade, Jesus Christ,
Henrietta, where have you been? It's being advertised on every
radio station, even the TV, and there are posters up everywhere
along the subway.”

Henrietta didn't have time to listen to the
radio or watch TV, and she never took the subway, because her house
was within walking distance of work. So no, she hadn't heard about
the masquerade.

“It's a charity ball, and it is going to be
so fantastic,” Marcia pointed out passionately. “Everybody is going
to be there, all the elites, all the politicians, all the
socialites, everyone.” Though Marcia's list of people who would be
attending the ball wasn't exhaustive, and left out nearly all of
the population, Henrietta got the picture. This dance would be
catering for exactly the kind of people that Marcia loved: the
rich, famous, and good-looking.

“The tickets aren’t that expensive, if you
get in early, so hurry up and ask Brick if he wants to come with me
already,” Marcia snapped, as if she could possibly be angry that
Henrietta hadn't asked Brick to go with Marcia to the dance yet,
considering Henrietta hadn't even heard about it until a few
seconds ago.

“I really don't think he will want to go,”
Henrietta tried to wrack her brains for a diplomatic reason. She
didn't want to outright tell Marcia that there would be no way
Brick would ever be interested in her. Marcia would blow a gasket.
“He doesn't like parties.”

“But this is a masquerade,” Marcia trilled.
“It's completely different.”

“Marcia, it's a party where you wear a mask,
but it is still a party.”

“Just ask him already. You told me he
doesn't have a phone, and he's not on Facebook, and he never seems
to be around when I come by, so just ask him for me,” Marcia
pleaded.

“Okay,” Henrietta caved in.

“You should think of going too. You don't
have to have a date or anything,” Marcia added at the end.

Henrietta narrowed her eyes. “It really
wouldn't be my thing.”

Marcia snorted. “Of course it wouldn't,
sorry, I forgot who I was talking to. But hurry up and ask Brick
and get back to me. I really need to figure out what I want to
wear. They're doing this really cute thing where if you come with a
partner, you have to be matched. So you have to wear the same
masks, and if you come in a red dress, he has to have a red
handkerchief. It's going to be so stylish. So I will need to know
what Brick wears so I can order my dress.”

Henrietta tried hard not to snigger. If Hell
froze over, and Brick agreed to go with Marcia to the masquerade,
then there would be only one thing he would wear. Cumbersome and
over-large clothes, old boots, and a ridiculous leather jacket. The
thought of Marcia trying to match her dress to that made it hard
for Henrietta to keep a straight face.

“Okay, okay, next time I see him, I will
ask,” Henrietta assured Marcia.

“Excellent. But make sure you hurry up. Like
I said, the tickets are cheap now, but I can bet they are going to
get more expensive. Plus, we need to decide whether we are going to
fork out a little bit more money and get into the main room.
Apparently Mr Hellier, this incredibly gorgeous philanthropist who
you just have to see to believe, is organizing the masquerade. In
fact, he is giving a chunk of money away too. Anyway, if you want
to meet him, you have to pay more to get into the main room.
Otherwise you have to hang out with the plebs downstairs.”

Henrietta froze. She almost dropped her
phone. In fact, her hands became so slick with sweat it began to
slip from her fingers.

“Henrietta? Are you there?”

Henrietta clapped a hand on her chest, and
the shudder of her heartbeat shifted her palm in place. “Sorry,
what was the name of the guy organizing it?”

“Mr Hellier. I think his first name's Mark.
haven't you heard of him? He is like only the most eligible
bachelor in town? I would so have gone after him, but I have never
met him. Apparently it is really hard. He is always so busy,”
Marcia said through a lonesome breath. “But if we pay enough, I
could so see him at this masquerade. Apparently he has like a
string of girlfriends or something, and they're all really sallow
looking, I think he's into the Gothic look. But I could put on more
make-up, and I know a friend who owns this really lacy black
dress,” Marcia started to babble.

As soon as Marcia had pointed out that Mr
Hellier's first name was Mark and not Theodore, Henrietta had
started to relax. Upon hearing the comment about the Gothic
girlfriends with the sallow faces, her heart fluttered faster and
faster. “Marcia, look, I have to go; I think I organized to meet up
with Brick tonight or something. I'll ask him about going to the
masquerade, and I will get back to you. Goodbye.” She hung up
before her sister could say anything else.

Then Henrietta stood there in her lounge
room, her bare feet sinking into her plush carpet, her skin
prickling with cold.

She turned and ran to the lounge room.

Brick was sitting on the couch, messaging on
his phone, and he gave her a terse look as she entered. Before he
could berate her for interrupting him, his expression changed.
“Warrior woman Henrietta, you appear distressed. You were speaking
to your sister on the phone, has she said something that has
further reduced your self-confidence?”

She tried to force her breath to calm, but
it was choppy and short. “Brick, Brick, oh god, he's going to have
a masquerade, and everyone in town is invited.”

“What are you talking about? Who is going to
have a masquerade?” Brick finished texting on his phone and pushed
it into the inner pocket of his jacket. Then he gave her his full
attention.

“Hellier.” Henrietta clamped a hand over her
mouth and shook her head, shock still rippling through her.

That got Brick's attention, and he pushed
himself to his feet, planting his hands on the table. “What do you
talk of, Warrior woman Henrietta?”

“I just got off the phone with my sister,
and she told me that this guy called Mark Hellier is organizing
this massive charity ball.”

“Because his last name is shared with that
of the Witch King of this town does not mean he is the same man,”
Brick pointed out calmly.

Henrietta shook her head so vigorously that
her fringe came free of her ponytail and fell across her eyes.
“That's not all she said. She told me that this Mark guy is always
surrounded by a litany of sallow-looking, terribly-thin
girlfriends.”

“Perhaps that is the style of woman he
prefers. It doesn't mean—”

“Marcia is terrible at remembering names. It
probably is Theodore Hellier. Plus, Brick, my skin is tingling, it
feels like something is crawling up my spine, and my stomach is
bottoming out. You keep on telling me to follow my instincts, and
right now they are screaming at me that the Witch King has just
organized a freaking masquerade. What do we do?”

Brick answered by bringing out his phone
again, and beginning to furiously text. “It appears it is time to
mobilize the warrior monks. Henrietta, get some rest.” He headed
towards the back door. “By morning I will have your answers for
you.”

Then he left. He didn't wait around to tell
her that everything would be okay. Neither did he assure her that
the Witch King couldn't possibly be putting on a charity ball. No,
he left her house, texting with one hand as he grabbed his hat and
crammed it on his head.

She had to force two hot chocolates down her
gullet before she could calm down enough to watch some TV and
finally go to bed.

She did not have a good sleep.

She thought about him, she even dreamed
about him, the Witch King, Theodore Hellier.

She woke up that morning to a fiendish
knocking on her door. As she went to open it, Brick appeared at her
side and rushed past her. He yanked the door open, and then ushered
the person on the doorstep in.

Henrietta still had sleep in her eyes, but
when she finished rubbing it out, she got the distinct feeling she
was still dreaming.

What she was looking at had to be something
out of a dream.

It was a man, of a short build and stature,
and he was wearing a ridiculously long leather jacket, almost
exactly the same as Brick's. What was more, he had a familiar array
of stubble over his chin, and he also had the kind of face that
suggested it could never age.

He gave Henrietta a reverent nod, then began
to talk with Brick in low, hushed tones.

She stood there, trying to force herself to
wake up faster. Then she grabbed her robe, shrugged into it, and
padded back out into the corridor to find the two of them still
furiously chatting. “What's going on?” she eventually
interrupted.