Chapter Twelve
Brick had been right. For the next few weeks after her run-in with Witch King Hellier, Henrietta's night-time fights with the witches were not interrupted by the man. However, the frequency with which the witches appeared seemed to increase, and nearly every single night Henrietta would find herself running off with Brick to protect the city.
She was getting better, but Brick had assured her many times that she was still not ready to fight the Witch King.
Which was a good thing, because she didn't want to. Every single time she closed her eyes and imagined that man's face, she always had to grab at her hairpin to calm herself down.
Just the thought of him frightened the life out of her.
He was imbued with magic; the way he had walked so casually over water, the way he had ignored her wall spell and had moved right through it with ease.
Henrietta shuddered again as she put chocolate sprinkles on the coffee she was preparing.
“Feeling cold?” Patrick asked as he reached out a hand to take the coffee.
She ran a hand up and down her arm. “I guess.”
“Then you must be coming down with a cold, because it is sweltering in here.” Patrick latched a hand onto the collar of his shirt and pulled at it. “So, Henrietta, how—” he began.
“Is my sister?” she got there first.
Patrick shook his head. He took a sip from his coffee. “Actually, I was going to ask how you are?”
He had been doing that a lot recently. In fact, ever since the party, Patrick had been a whole lot more engaging whenever he had spoken to her. So had Jimmy Field, come to mention it, so had every single man that had seen her there that night.
Though Henrietta hadn’t worn that fantastic dress again, and she hadn't let Brick do her hair in weeks, it seemed the effect lasted.
“I guess I'm okay.”
“That isn't something you should have to guess at, Henrietta,” Patrick pointed out as he shifted his head to the side and looked at her carefully.
“Ignore me, I am just distracted.” She brushed at her cold arms again. Then she walked off as another customer ordered a coffee. When she came back, it was to the sight of Jimmy and Patrick exchanging pats on the back. The two of them were still the firmest of friends, despite Jimmy’s on-and-off relationship with Marcia. Apparently these days it was a lot more off than it was on. Ever since Marcia had met Brick, she'd been going mad in her attempts to catch his affection.
It hadn't worked, and the few times Marcia had met up with Brick, Brick had remained aloof and lovingly bizarre.
That made Marcia want him even more. It seemed that every single day Henrietta would get a text from Marcia, begging her to bring Brick along on a double date.
That was never going to happen, of course.
Jimmy ordered a slice of cake and an espresso, and Henrietta brought them over, handing them to him as he turned and began to laugh at Patrick. “You can't be serious?”
Patrick nodded. “We have got photos.”
“Well, can I see them?” Jimmy put a hand on his chin, then let it slide down, his jaw locking into a grin. He had that familiar schoolboy look again.
“Technically, I should probably not be doing this, but because these aren’t linked to any case,” Patrick pulled his phone from his pocket, “and the kid who snapped them has already put them online, then I guess it doesn't matter.”
Jimmy grabbed Patrick's phone, before Patrick could hand it over.
Then he gave a wolf whistle. “Look at those boots,” Jimmy said as he stabbed a finger towards the phone, chuckling louder.
Patrick joined in.
Stiletto Girl.
It was their favorite topic these days. While Henrietta served a lot of people at the cafe, and though Stiletto Girl was a hot topic of conversation, nobody talked about it is much as Jimmy and Patrick.
Henrietta always found it hard to control herself whenever she overheard their conversations. She would blush, start playing with the sides of her apron, and usually find something else to talk about. But even the topic of Marcia couldn’t get the two off Stiletto Girl these days.
“She was spotted outside of the industrial district, helping an old lady out of her crashed car,” Patrick said, his voice far too high.
Henrietta remembered the incident well. Except the car had never crashed. An errant burst of wind from one of her own tornado spells had slammed into the old sedan, pushing it into a wall. Henrietta had cast a health spell, and the old dear had never noticed. Then, of course Henrietta had felt compelled to help the old lady out of her seat, and she'd even enquired as to whether the grandma had insurance.
Henrietta shook her head ever so slightly.
“You think that’s impressive? The other day we were attending a fire out west,” Jimmy leaned in conspiratorially, “and she got there first. Just as we were rolling up in the fire truck, one of the windows of the house was kicked out, and she appeared carrying a kid.” Jimmy pursed his lips, chin wobbling. “Then she just ran off into the night.”
She remembered that incident too. She'd been fighting a fire witch, when the hack had run up onto a roof, and cast a fireball right at a house. Henrietta had banished the witch, but she hadn’t managed to get to the house in time to dowse the fire. She had cast a scanning spell, and when she’d realized there was a child inside, she'd gone in to save him.
She was hardly a hero here. She was just running around mopping up after her own mistakes or her inability to stop the witches in time. Still, listening to Patrick and Jimmy drool over her antics pushed away the guilt, and she felt her cheeks blush.
“Who the hell do you think she is?” Jimmy always asked that question, and he always shook his head as he did, a fantastic look in his eyes.
“I have no idea. We do have orders to escort her to the police station to answer some questions, should we ever get our hands on her,” Patrick said as he waggled his eyebrows.
Jimmy let out a hoot of a laugh and slammed a hand onto Patrick’s shoulder. “Good luck.”
Henrietta went off to serve another customer, and when she came back to the two, they were no longer gawking over the pictures on Patrick's phone, and they had in fact changed topics.
“I thought I heard a rumor that someone disappeared down there, one of the construction workers,” Jimmy said, all levity gone from his expression, and his brow crumpled over his bright, inviting eyes.
Patrick nodded at him sternly. “It's just that, a rumor. We haven't had any reports of a missing person. But, that being said, some strange stuff is going on down there.”
“Like what?” Jimmy finished off his espresso and rested the cup down on his empty plate.
“Disappearances, stuff being stolen, nothing too serious... but we have no idea who is doing it or where they're taking it. They seem to be concentrating on the construction area at the moment.” Patrick shrugged his shoulders and finished up his own coffee too. Then he stood up. “I probably shouldn't say anything more.”
Jimmy nodded. “Yeah, sure.”
Henrietta took a step towards the bench and cleared her throat. “What are you talking about? Disappearances?”
She didn't like to interrupt Jimmy and Patrick's conversations, especially when it sounded as if Patrick was talking about his work. She was never sure how much he was meant to say, and whether she was meant to be overhearing what he was telling Jimmy. That didn't matter right now. She had to know what he was speaking about, because an uneasy feeling had settled in her stomach.
Patrick turned to her, offering her that same engaging warm smile he always did these days. Then he shook his head. “It's nothing, Henny,” he used her nickname, something else that had changed since the party. He hardly called her Henrietta any more, preferring the much more familiar Henny whenever he could.
“Where? Around here?”
Patrick shook his head, patting down his jacket and making it neat. “No. There's nothing to worry about. It's just out at
the new construction site in North Square. You know, the one where they’re building another tunnel for the subway?”
No, she didn't know that; Henrietta hardly paid attention to what happened in this town, not now that she spent every single day and night preparing to fight the witches.
“Oh.” She pulled Jimmy’s empty plate and glass towards her. “What kind of stuff has been disappearing then?”
Patrick shrugged. “It's probably just kids. No formal complaints have been made, this is just what I've heard from a couple of mates that work at the site.”
She nodded.
Though Patrick appeared to think whatever was going on at the construction site was nothing, a cascade of panic prickling down her spine told her otherwise.
She was starting to realize that even when she wasn't trotting around town as a witch hunter, she could still access her magic. It was slight, but it was there. If she paid attention to her feelings, sometimes she could trust in the same instinct that Brick referred to as her battle brain. The sense that told her what to do next when she was fighting a witch, what spells to cast, and how to win.
Her instincts told her the construction site was important.
She left work early that day, and it was only because she had been so diligent and on time in the past month and a half that Maria let her go. Ever since Brick had moved into her house, she no longer had trouble getting to work. She was no longer late, her clothes were no longer crumpled and stained, and her lunch was always prepared. Though Brick had a nasty habit of eating all her food and moaning when there was no chicken in the house, he was turning out to be a fabulous house-mate. Maybe it was because he’d grown up in a monastery, but not only did he always ensure her house was spotlessly clean, he ironed her clothes, got her up on time, and even prepared her lunch for her.
She was also getting used to his personality. He had his quirks, and he never took off that leather jacket, but apart from that, she was almost enjoying having him around.
Almost. He did ask for chicken too much and he cost her an enormous amount in food.
More than that, knowing he was around also let her relax. Since her run-in with the Witch King, she’d been forced to take this new life of hers seriously. Doom hung over her head, and the prospect of running into that awful man loomed around every corner.
Brick kept her sane, mostly because his insanity could distract her from her own.
She ran home early, and it was to the sight of Brick in an apron, scrubbing out the oven. The apron hardly stretched around the girth of his leather jacket, but it was still somehow tied, and it made him look ridiculous. His expression suggested he didn't care.
“You are home early. You have not worked your entire shift. You will earn approximately $20 less on your next pay check. This will cost us in chicken,” he pointed out gravely.
Henrietta ignored him, flopped a hand his way, and walked over to the kitchen chair and sat in it.
“Brick, how can you find out about the witches? I mean, how do you seem to know where they are and when they are going to attack?” she had asked him this question before, and he usually dodged right out of it.
Maybe today he was distracted by cleaning the oven, because he cleared his throat. “Secret warrior monk brethren communication lines. It's magic, you know.”
She nodded. Whereas several weeks ago she would have shouted at him for such a silly explanation, she could now appreciate that it held some truth.
“Well, have you heard anything about the new construction site in North Square?” She leaned forward with interest, her elbows resting on the table as she gazed at him.
He was on his hands and knees while he was scrubbing out the oven, and he turned to face her. “No.”
She sighed and tried to let go of the tension that was still locked in her shoulders. “That's a relief....” Except it wasn't a relief. She hadn't managed to let go of all the stress that had bottled up inside her ever since she had heard about the construction site. It felt like a needle in her, scratching at her skin. “Brick, I overheard a conversation today between two men,” she blushed at the word men. They weren’t just men; they were Carson City's finest, but Brick didn't need to know that detail. “Anyway, they were talking about this new construction site. One of them said there was a rumor about someone disappearing there. And the other one mentioned that things have gone missing from the construction site, but they haven't found out who is responsible.”
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.