Chapter Thirteen
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.
“Warrior Woman Henrietta Gosling,” the new man nodded low to her.
She couldn't help but offer the same nod in return.
“I usually just call her Warrior Woman Henrietta, actually,” Brick pointed out easily.
“Really? Do you find shortening it makes it easier to command her in battle?” The other man looked interested.
Henrietta cleared her throat. She knew what would happen if she let these two get deep into conversation: they would never answer her question, and they would start talking about the strangest of things. It would only take a minute or two until they started discussing heels or the length of skirts. “What's going on? Who are you?”
“Henrietta,” Brick turned to her and gestured towards the man, “this is Warrior Monk Spanner.”
She'd opened her mouth, ready to say hello, but she faulted on the word spanner.
“It is a pleasure to meet you.” Spanner nodded low again.
Really, Spanner? This man's name was Spanner? If Brick wasn't called, well, Brick, then Henrietta would probably chuckle. But considering what was going on, she didn't have the time. “Hello, Spanner, but seriously, guys, what is going on?”
Spanner gave a nervous glance her way. “I can see you are eager to acquire information so you can go into battle and save humanity from the witches.”
“Something like that,” Henrietta conceded. Now she was fully awake, and now the memory of last night was sharp in her mind. The Witch King. The masquerade. “Do you know what's happening yet?”
Spanner tugged down on his leather jacket, then pressed a hand into his pocket and pulled out a poster. It was rolled up, and it was large, easily a meter in length. Like everything that Brick pulled out of his pockets, it was in pristine condition and did not appear to be bent or scrunched in any way.
Spanner unrolled the poster.
Henrietta took one look at it, then she almost threw up.
Hellier. Witch King Hellier. It was the same intensely handsome face. The same look. And though it sounded impossible, Henrietta could swear that it felt like the picture of him was looking at her with exactly the same interest that the real man had bestowed upon her that one night she had met him.
“The information provided by the woman who often blows her gasket, Marcia Gosling, is correct. Witch King Hellier has organized a party. It is meant to be for charity,” he added, making charity sound as sarcastic as he could.
“But...” she was about to ask how. How could a Witch King organize a ball of all things? Then she remembered. Unlike the other witches, who stayed to the shadows and enjoyed their anonymity from the rest of humanity, the kings and queens of the witches were different.
She looked at Brick expectantly, wanting him to say that it was all a mistake, that Hellier couldn't possibly be organizing a freaking masquerade, but Brick just shook his head and grabbed the poster off Spanner.
“Though I have no evidence, I would wager that this so-called charity ball will not, in fact, raise funds for charity,” Brick said, his tone grave.
Of course it wouldn't raise money for charity; a bloody witch king was involved. But what was Hellier's plan? As a horrible shudder passed over her back, Henrietta forced her gaze off the poster. “What is he going to do? Why would he do something like this?”
“It depends.” Spanner shrugged. “He could be planning on trapping everybody in the room and burning the place down with a fire spell.”
“He could order up a tornado, and rip the building down,” Brick suggested as he scratched at his neck.
Spanner clicked his fingers. “He could cast an earthquake spell whilst the party was in full swing.”
Brick nodded. “He could cast a hole, and swallow the building up with everyone inside.”
She stared at them in horror. The both of them looked like two lads engaged in a thought experiment. “Are you serious? Is that what he is going to do? Oh my god, we have to put a stop to this! And how can the both of you be standing there and suggesting these things so easily? This is horrible.”
Brick now turned to her, and he got that expression on his face he always did when he felt like he had something to teach her. “These are possibilities, admittedly, but they are unlikely. It is my belief that either Witch King Hellier is attempting to solidify his social status in the town, or he is attempting to bring you out of the shadows.”
She turned her lips in and pressed her teeth against them hard. “Bring me out of the shadows?”
Brick kept his gaze on her as he nodded. “The Witch King is unlikely to go to all the effort of magically disappearing everyone at that ball; while he would likely consider it good fun, it would ultimately go against his ends. At this stage, he is attempting to gather power, he is sending his witches out at night to solidify his influence over the city. He would not go to the extreme of killing off all the city's politicians and elite; he would have uses for them yet. Until he is satisfied with his power, or somehow finds a way to increase his influence, Witch King Hellier will act, but he will do nothing so grandiose.”
She nodded, but it was an uneasy move. “So you think he is after me then?”
“It is a possibility. But I feel the more likely possibility is that he is simply trying to mingle.”
It was an odd choice of words, and if it had been any other circumstance, Henrietta would have laughed at it. The mental image of a witch king mingling with a bunch of politicians over nibbles and wine was a comical one.
“If Witch King Hellier maneuvers himself into power within the town, he will be able to use his position to further his influence. There is word on the street that he is attempting to run for mayor,” Spanner pointed out.
Brick swung to face him, his eyes blazing. “No!?”
Spanner nodded. “Several warrior monk brethren who work for the Council have confirmed this. It seems likely that this charity function has been organized to further that purpose.”
Though Spanner's admission calmed Henrietta down a bit, it also made her nervous, but in a different way. The prospect of Hellier organizing a party just to get to her sent the tightest of fidgeting, frigid nerves shooting through her back. And the prospect of him running for mayor and getting elected made her throat dry and her hands wet with sweat.
“Whatever his desire, I suggest we act in a way to upset his plans,” Spanner said with a nod.
Brick reached out a hand and patted Spanner on the shoulder. “I agree, warrior monk brother.”
Henrietta looked at both of them and reached a hand up to her hairpin. She wore it all the time now, and when she was in bed, she held it in her hand. There wasn't a moment it was off her person. Which not only meant it wasn't off burning down the house, but also meant that she had it by her side in case she needed to transform in a jiffy.
Now she clutched it closely to her chest.
She had to stop him, the Witch King. And yes, even thinking about him still made her nervous and sick, still made her remember that hor
ribly interested look he had given her when he had invited her to come back with him to where ever he came from.
“What do we do?” She pushed through her fear and pushed her words out at the same time.
“This is obvious.” Brick nodded his head low. “We go to the ball. We interrupt his plans. If he wishes to mingle and gain the respect of the other people of this town, we will cast aspersions against him and poison his punch.”
Henrietta screwed up her face at the suggestion to poison his punch, but she got the general gist. Brick was suggesting they head along to the party and do everything they could to upset Hellier's plans.
“And if he is after me?” she asked through a shaking voice.
“Ah, we run,” Brick noted with a shrug.
“Fast,” Spanner added.
“In the opposite direction,” Brick qualified.
Henrietta pressed her eyes closed and kept them shut for several seconds.
“Unfortunately there seems to be no other way,” Brick assured her. “We must go to that party, figure out what Hellier wants, and then we must react to it. Do not worry, Warrior Woman Henrietta, I will mobilize the warrior monk brethren in this town, and we will assist you.”
Henrietta opened one of her eyes to see Spanner snapping her a salute.
“But if I go as a witch hunter, he is going to know, he is going to come after me.” She swallowed.
“It is time to teach you a new spell,” Brick said, and his eyes sparkled.
Spanner began to chuckle, but he also nodded his head low, offering her another salute. “Warrior monk brother, Witch Hunter,” he nodded at them both in turn, “I must go back to my post. Text me if you need anything.”
Spanner backed off, offered another nod her way, and then disappeared, without ever using the door to leave the house.
Which just left her and Brick.
“Brick.... I don't know if I can go to that party. What if he recognizes me? I barely got away the last time I saw him.”
“He will not recognize you, Henrietta, and you will not go dressed as a witch hunter.” Brick’s eyes were sparkling again, and she had no idea what it meant.
“What do you mean I won't go as a witch hunter? Then I won't have access to my magic.”
“There is much you do not know, and many features of your magic you are yet to have learnt.” Brick started to walk away from her, and as he did, he grabbed hold of her couch and gave it a good shove into the corner.
“What are you doing with my furniture?”
“Pushing it out of the way so you don't destroy it when you transform.” He moved over to the curtains and tugged them shut, giving the street outside a wary look before he did.
“What are you about to teach me, Brick?” Henrietta's voice was uneasy.
“Style,” Brick answered, then he smiled, and quite unusually for the warrior monk, it was cheeky and fat.