Enchantress Under Pressure Read online

  Copyright 2019 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 Katie,

  one of the bravest and

  most creative women I know.

  Enchantress Under Pressure

  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.

  Contents

  Enchantress Under Pressure

  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

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Epilogue

  Enchantress Underground

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  Other Books by A. C. Spahn

  Chapter 1

  THE DEAD WERE RISING, which was just what I’d expect from a Monday.

  I crouched behind an aged grave monument, a sculpture of an angel overgrown with weeds, shadowing myself from the newly risen full moon. Beyond my hiding place, a translucent figure wafted over the dying lawn. Her long dress and hair fluttered in an unseen wind, and her pale feet barely brushed the ground. She drifted aimlessly around a solitary headstone, a mound of fresh dirt at its base.

  Beside me, peering around the other side of the monument, Desmond Desoto shifted his weight. “I thought ghosts were supposed to be rare.”

  “They are,” I whispered, watching our target complete another circuit around her grave. “It takes a specific magical interaction to create one.”

  “Then why are we hunting down our third ghost of the week?”

  Static crackled in my pocket. “Maybe it’s the full moon,” said a low female voice.

  I realized I’d been sitting on the “talk” button and broadcasting the conversation. I pulled my walkie-talkie out and pressed the button, deliberately this time. “It’s not the full moon, Sam.”

  “I’m just saying. This all started just before the full moon.”

  “The moon has nothing to do with magical forces.”

  On the other end of the channel, my apprentice huffed. “If it’s not the full moon, what’s making all these shades pop up like it’s Halloween?”

  Across the lawn, the ghost turned and began circling the opposite direction. No wrinkles touched the youth of her face, though that didn’t necessarily mean she’d died young.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “We can solve that problem back at headquarters. Right now, we just need to put this one back in the ground. Soon as the signal comes, we go. And by we, I mean me and Desmond. You’re just observing, Sam.”

  “I know that was the plan, but ...”

  “Sam.”

  “Ugh. Fine, Mom.”

  The walkie-talkie line cut out. Desmond flashed me a wry grin. “Does that make me Dad?”

  “Remind me never to have kids. They’re cute until they start having opinions.”

  “What if I want kids?”

  “Is this the right time for this discussion?”

  Desmond shrugged, and his big ears took on a pink undertone beneath their usual light brown. “You’ve been avoiding talking about us.”

  I scanned the silhouetted trees looming over our heads, hoping the signal would come and I’d escape this conversation. Nothing stirred on the shadowy branches. I sighed. “We’ve been fine so far. Isn’t that enough?”

  “For now. But where are we going, Adrienne? What future are we shooting for?”

  “It’s only been a few months.”

  “And I think we should think beyond the next few months.”

  “Do you have to plan everything?”

  He shrugged. “I’m a planner.”

  “I’m not. Or at least, I haven’t been able to be.”

  He flashed me an adorable smile, the moon glinting off his tousled black hair. “I know this is all new to you. Just ... consider what you want. Long term.”

  Long term. That wasn’t a phrase I’d been able to use in years. A phrase I wasn’t sure I was ready to use again. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Good enough.” He gave me another smile before returning to watching the ghost.

  I stared at his back, tracing the outlines of his muscles beneath his tight-fitting black shirt. A few months since we’d admitted our feelings for one another. A few months since the Void Union discovered me. A few months since I made some sacrifices that ensured I wouldn’t have to flee my past anymore. I thought it was working out, but a little voice inside me insisted it couldn’t last. That my past would rise up and rip away everything I loved if I dared draw it too close.

  The walkie-talkie buzzed in my hand.

  I jumped and released the talk button. I’d been gripping it so hard I’d broadcast the last few seconds to Sam. At least this time I sent her nothing but silence. The instant I released the button, my apprentice’s voice came through. “Adrienne? You there? Hello?”

  “I’m fine, Sam,” I said. “Don’t ...”

  At that moment, branches rustled above us. A red-brown squirrel bounded between two trees, bushy tail streaming behind her.

  “There’s Kendall,” said Desmond. “No other ghosts nearby. Let’s go.” He sprang from behind the monument, drawing a silver-tipped dagger from his belt.

  “Adrienne?” asked Sam on the walkie-talkie. “Do you need help?”

  I pressed the button again as I rounded the grave monument. “Stay put, Sam!” Then I dropped the walkie-talkie, tugged up my sleeve to expose my bracelet, and ran toward the ghostly woman circling her headstone.

  The ghost saw us coming. Anger overtook h
er smooth face. Invisible gales whipped her dress tight around her legs. A moment later, a real wind rose, driving hard against my face. Tears sprang to my eyes. Strands of black hair escaped my braid. I leaned into the unnatural wind, struggling to move forward. At five feet with a skinny frame, I was easy prey for the hurricane-force winds. They blew me back a pace. Then two.

  Fine, I thought. Magic was a multiplayer game. I raised my wrist and called upon the enchantment I’d stored in my chunky purple bracelet. Instant strength flooded my body, infusing my muscles with steel. With the enchantment strengthening my body, I held my ground. I reclaimed the two steps the wind had blown me back, then took another.

  A dozen feet away, Desmond stalked toward the ghost, grim determination on his stark features. The tempest harassing me blew around him, too, but not a hair on his head stirred.

  The ghost spotted him and snarled. Maybe she recognized him as a Void, immune to magic, or maybe something else set her off, but either way she changed tactics. Blood-red light sparked within her chest, creating a hellish glow that blazed the ground in a circle beneath her. She surged across the air at Desmond, hands clawed to rake his throat.

  As she turned, the supernatural wind vanished. Caught off guard, I stumbled forward, but managed not to fall flat on my face. I sprinted for the ghost’s now undefended gravestone, keeping an eye on Desmond as I ran.

  Desmond ducked the ghost’s first assault, but she followed him, making a hard right turn that should have been impossible if she obeyed the laws of aerodynamics. Desmond went down, and the wispy woman’s form went with him, undead nails slashing. His silver-tipped knife flashed in his hand as he drove it into her side. An unearthly howl, like the cry of a wild animal ripped by a predator’s teeth, tore from the ghost’s throat. Smoke billowed from her wound like vaporous blood. Desmond stabbed her again, and a second cloud of smoke puffed out. The ghost didn’t let go. Her nails gouged for his lifeblood as she continued to shriek.

  I changed direction mid-step, sprinting for them instead of the grave. I tapped the magic in the blue-stone ring on my left hand, aiming my fist in Desmond’s direction. Sizzle, sizzle, I thought, and a blast of turquoise lightning shot out of my fist straight at the dueling pair.

  My magical electricity flicked out harmlessly on Desmond, but it chewed into the ghost like dry paper. With a scream of pain, she whisked into the air. Her translucent form cast a burning haze over the moon. Tree branches wreathed her form as she slapped at the sparks zapping her.

  I knelt by Desmond’s side, but he was already pushing himself to his feet. “I’m fine,” he said, wincing. “She’s stronger than our intel suggested, but I can handle it.”

  Red welts showed through the tatters of his shirt. He was lucky. Any non-Void, and most weaker Voids, would have been a mass of shredded flesh after that attack. Fortunately Desmond was one of the strongest Voids in San Francisco, and the ghost’s violence couldn’t destroy his body.

  Satisfied that he’d live, I returned to plan and darted for the grave. The ghost tracked my path, and with another shriek dove for me. I called up the agility enchantment on my second bracelet, this one a simple yellow chain, and rolled to the side just before the ghost crashed into the dirt where I’d stood. With unnatural spryness I regained my feet and went into a baseball slide at the grave, skidding to a stop just beside the mound of soft dirt.

  Desmond slashed the ghost again, driving her back. Her retreating motions grew frantic. Apparently realizing her typical arsenal wouldn’t hold up against a Void, she shot off toward the decorative trees marking the border of the cemetery property. A moment later, a branch as thick as my waist hurtled out of the darkness, aimed to knock Desmond over like a bowling pin.

  He leapt the branch with the agility of a trained swordsman, but an entire tree came flying seconds later. The ghost wasn’t holding back now. Desmond could shrug off the ghost’s mauling, but the tree was real, and no magic touched it once it was airborne. He’d die under its crushing weight as easily as anyone else.

  Desmond dove into a roll behind a huge gravestone. The tree clipped it, taking off a foot of the concrete and spraying gravel like shrapnel. Then the rolling trunk tumbled down a small hill, taking out another row of headstones in the process.

  Fear fluttered in my chest. I closed my eyes, willing myself to concentrate. The dirt felt warm beneath me, the air stiff with the dry heat of a California summer. Beyond my normal senses, another one lurked, tapping out a rhythm in my head: kadum ... kadum ... kadum. Magic’s pounding beat was a normal part of life for enchantresses like me, those of us able to sense the world’s magical field.

  From my pocket I drew a small vial of water with a leather cord tied around its stem. I shoved the other end of the leather into the freshly-turned earth covering the grave, then shook the water vial as I drew in magic.

  The tapping in my head grew to a pounding. Kadum! Kadum! Kadum! An ache started between my eyes, but I walled off the pain in a corner of my mind, concentrating on what I needed the magic to do. Form waves, I chanted, watching the water slosh in the vial as I shook it. Flow aside as water before a ship’s prow. Split in two, splash away, and clear a path. I repeated the enchantment as I sent the magic out of me, into the sloshing water vial. Once the magic absorbed the movement of the water, I channeled it through the leather cord, into the loose dirt covering the grave.

  Flecks of gold flashed amidst the brown dirt as the enchantment made its mark on the soil. The loose dirt began to flow, sloshing out both sides of the grave like waves crashing over a barricade. Two ridges rapidly formed flanking the headstone, and a six-foot hole dug itself out of the ground.

  At the bottom of the hole lay a coffin. A film of dust dulled its reddish sheen, but the varnish was fresh, the gilding on its corners unmarred by time’s decay. The gold mechanism that locked the casket gleamed in the moonlight.

  The enchantment on the dirt fully took hold, settling the piles in their frozen waves like they’d been sculpted there. I yanked the leather cord off the water vial and tossed it aside. I fished another, longer cord out of my pocket and hooked its pre-tied end around the vial. Then I dangled the cord so its loose end touched the coffin’s sealed lid. I unscrewed the vial’s cap and drew in more magic.

  Open, I chanted, focusing the magic on the uncapped vial. Open. Op–

  Cold fury slammed into me, knocking me back onto the hard-packed earth. The vial flew from my hand and shattered. Spilled water soaked into the thirsty ground. The ghost loomed over me, her flowing form blocking my sight like thick fog. She swung at me, and I instinctively raised an arm to block. Sharp nails ravaged my arm. I hissed as blood welled from the cut. Unlike Desmond, I faced the full power of the ghost’s touch.

  She slashed at me again, but this time I had warning. I activated the magic in my beaded ring, and a transparent shield of violet light burst open above me. The ghost’s arm collided with the shield. Purple lightning latticed between us.

  Panting, I scanned the graveyard for Desmond. Far across the moonlit grounds, he scrambled over a wall of thrown tree trunks that had trapped him between a pair of mausoleums.

  At least I’d prepared strong enough defensive enchantments to hold my own.

  Or so I thought.

  With a howl, the ghost bashed both fists against my shield. The light shuddered, then winked out, spewing lavender sparks into the air. I gaped at my ring. Surely one attack couldn’t diffuse my entire shield enchantment. No ghost was that strong. If it hadn’t just happened, I’d have sworn it was impossible.

  The ghost’s next assault came toward my face. I activated my agility enchantment and rolled aside, narrowly avoiding her clawed hands. I reached for the magic in my shield ring, but it wouldn’t reactivate.

  Something had gone terribly wrong, something I didn’t understand, and my heart beat in terror. Magic wasn’t supposed to behave this way.

  A flurry of blonde hair and lanky limbs charged out from another row of graves, screaming a wordless
challenge. “Sam, no!” I shouted. But my apprentice reached us in seconds, hurling all of her fifteen-year-old fury into a fire enchantment that shot from her hands and blasted the ghost in the chest.

  The ghost wailed, swooping higher in the sky. Even as I watched, the charred edges of her form began healing. Sam stared up in defiance, her own arsenal of rings and bracelets catching the bright moonlight. She raised her hand and shot another blast of fire at the ghost, and I spotted a dark, swirling line etched into the palm of her pale hand.

  With a groan I pushed myself to my feet and yanked Sam’s arm down. “Thanks. Now get out of here! We have to–”

  Again the ghost dove. I threw myself to the side. I expected the ghost to follow me, but instead it turned on Sam. In horror I watched the translucent hands claw for Sam’s throat.

  I scrambled to my feet, but in that moment Desmond passed me, silver-tipped dagger in hand. He stabbed deep into the ghost’s side, forcing it away from Sam and freeing me to finish this.

  I knelt beside the open grave and gathered the fallen leather cord. The water vial was smashed beyond repair. Cursing, I scrambled for something else to use. I’d left my bag of enchanting gear in the car, afraid it would slow me down. There were no bottles or vials around, nothing I could use to focus the enchantment. My eyes fell on a rosebud carefully laid on a nearby grave. With no better options, I snatched it and sprinted back for the ghost’s own grave. I looped the leather cord around the flower’s stem, just below the rosebud, then forced the petals open into a parody of real bloom. I leaned over the grave, dangling the leather cord so its end touched the casket lid. Open, I chanted, focusing the magic that had been stewing inside me. Open. Open. Open.

  The magic moved, flowing out of me into the rose. It absorbed the openness of the petals, the way they spread out from one another, then channeled through the fresh leather into the coffin. When the magic stopped flowing, I prayed that it had worked correctly, then slid down into the grave and lifted the varnished lid.