The Enchanted Writes Book Five

By Odette C. Bell

Everything will end.
Henrietta Gosling’s destiny has pushed her this far; the rest will be up to her. Hellier now knows who she is. They have a treaty, for all it’s worth. He’s keeping up his end, but she can’t stop thinking about him.
From her dreams to the void, something is chasing her. Relentless, it will consume her magic and lay waste to the world.
There’s only one place to turn for help. In the end, there’s only one man she can rely on. And he will accept her with open arms. With a catch.
....
The Enchanted Writes follows a ditzy hero and her dangerous nemesis fighting to save their city. If you love your urban fantasies with action, heart, and a splash of romance, grab The Enchanted Writes Book Five today and soar free with an Odette C. Bell series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Odette C. Bell
• Release date: Dec 18, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310108860

Book preview

Chapter 1

Nothing was the same now. How could it be?

Hellier knew who she was.

The thought chilled her and thrilled her all at once. The idea there was now no mask between them felt like she was facing up to him. It also left her exposed, though. Oh so exposed.

Henrietta took a ragged breath as she stared at herself in her mirror. The mirror was gilded and enormous. It was probably held into the wall by a nine-inch rivet.

Pressing her lips together and giving her tortured appearance one last glance, she sighed and moved away.

Her foot brushed up against a broken pot and sent it banging noisily through the bathroom.

With another step back, her other foot brushed up against a fern. The thing was twisted, its stalk pushing up through a broken tile, the ceramic contorting the poor plant like a bonsai.

This place is insane, she muttered as she shook her head.

She walked out of the bathroom and into the massive entranceway.

This was her new house.

Well, house wasn’t the correct term – mansion was. Rundown mansion. No – falling-apart mansion.

Now Hellier knew who she was, the game had changed. It was no longer safe to stay in her house – not for Brick, anyway. Hellier had promised – through a blood pact – not to hurt Henrietta. Brick and his other leather-jacket wearing brethren were not part of the deal.

Hence the run-down mansion.

It was far on the outskirts of town, up one of the mountains that formed the city’s backbone. Due to its vantage, it had an unrivaled view of the sprawling metropolis below. Whenever Henrietta had a cup of tea on the prominent balcony leading off the ballroom, she felt exactly like a superhero watching over her flock.

While the view this place afforded was unquestionably cool, that was the only good thing about it.

It was a death trap.

As if to confirm that, a wad of plaster came loose from the ceiling above her and smashed perilously close to her feet.

Brick, how long until you fix this place? She huffed. At this rate, I won’t have to fight Hellier – I’ll be killed by moldy plaster instead.

Brick didn’t answer. She knew he was in earshot – considering his hearing was superhuman and always primed to pick up any conversation relating to boots or skirt length.

Brick?

Henrietta huffed.

A lot had changed in her life, granted, but some things always stayed the same. Brick was obtuse and infuriating. Yet, without him, she’d be alone.

… No, not entirely alone. There’d always be Hellier.

She shivered as she walked through the entranceway. It was the kind of shiver that moved through her whole body, starting off in her stomach and climbing her back in waves. It didn’t leave her cold. Quite the opposite – it came with the kind of pleasant heat one should definitely not associate with thoughts of their nemesis.

She was taking time to figure out where she stood around Hellier, emotionally, anyway. She knew where she stood physically – they were enemies. That fact couldn’t cut the energy between them, though. The connection.

Not for the first time, Henrietta found her fingers trailing delicately over her wrist. She could still feel the tingling – the magic of the pact. It was as if it had been written right into her blood. Every time her heart pounded with a beat, it recast the spell. Hundreds of thousands of times a day.

By the time she found Brick, she was blushing. Because, yeah, she was thinking of Hellier.

Warrior woman, have you come to lend a hand to my righteous cause? Brick looked up at her, positioning the tree loppers he’d been using over one shoulder.

He was at the back of the mansion in the pool. There wasn’t any water. There was only dirt. And plants. Lots of freaking plants.

Apparently this mansion had been built on some kind of spiritual spot. There was a lot of raw magic in the bedrock. According to Brick, that was why the plants were insane. They grew everywhere like an encroaching green army.

At first, she hadn’t believed him. She’d put the overabundance of shrubbery down to some extremely shoddy grounds keeping. Now, as she skirted past a clogged vine merrily growing between cracked flagstones, she knew she was wrong.

There was something different about this place. She wouldn’t go so far as to say magical, but it was close.

Don’t just stand there and look at me, warrior woman. Transform and write a spell to clear out this pool. The other brethren are coming over later, and I promised them fine drinks, light snacks, and a swim.

… A pool party? You’re throwing a monk pool party? Man, I wish my life wasn’t so secretive, because that is exactly the kind of thing the internet deserves to see.

Brick threw her a mildly confused look, shrugged, and went back to hacking at the vines by his feet.

She turned and left him to his task.

Even if Brick somehow managed to tame nature before his mates arrived, ten to one nature would be back by tomorrow. You could scrape the moss from the shower or pluck the weeds from the wall, but come sunrise, they were back.

Apart from the warrior monk brethren and the warrior nun sisterhood, no one knew Henrietta lived up here.

Seriously, if Marcia found out her sister had moved into a magical broken mansion on the hill, she’d lose it.

Things with Marcia were already strained enough as it was.

As soon as she thought about her, Henrietta sighed. Accidentally, she let a little magic seep out with the move, and the air rumbled with her frustration.

Is that thunder? Brick asked. There can’t be a storm! It will ruin my meeting.

Henrietta didn’t bother to set him straight. She picked her way through her mad mansion and up to her bedroom.

While the rest of the place was falling down the hill whilst being slowly eaten by plants, Henrietta’s room was lovely.

She’d fixed the holes in the walls, boarded up the gaps in the floor, and washed away the mold. It had taken her a week, but now it was a room fit for a queen.

There was an enormous four-poster bed along the far wall. It was resplendent with quilts and mohair throws. It also had delicately embroidered lace curtains that were tied to the posts with silk knots.

There was a lovely regal chair sitting next to it, and a dressing table on the other side.

On top of the dressing table was the book.

His book.

Every single time she looked at it, she thought of him. Heck, who was she kidding – most of her day was occupied with thoughts of Hellier. Yet whenever she cast her eyes over that simple leather-bound tome, the intensity of her connection doubled.

It was almost as if she could feel him here in the room with her, his hands reaching out for her own.

With a sigh, Henrietta tried but failed to banish her thoughts. She walked over to the bed and flopped onto it.

After a minute or two, without being conscious of it, she turned towards the book. Her eyes locked on it.

The book was important to him – she knew that. It held secrets. Secrets she was yet to reveal.

Incapable of resisting the urge, she reached up and pulled the book down towards her. It flopped onto the bed with a dull thud, rumpling her covers.

Driving her teeth into her lip as nerves pulsed through her stomach, she opened it.

It was still blank.

No matter what she tried, no writing would ever appear in the damn thing. She’d done spells and enchantments – she’d even tried transforming and writing the word reveal, but nothing had happened.

It was as blank and clear as the air itself.

She pressed her lips into her teeth and sighed. One day, I’ll find out all your secrets, she told it. One day….

With a sigh, she let the book fall back onto the bed. She rolled over, grabbed her pillow, and pulled it under her head.

She closed her eyes.

Several months ago, she wouldn’t have dreamed of sleeping next to Hellier’s book. Specifically because it always affected her dreams. Whenever that book was close, she had nightmares. Of the particularly ominous variety.

She would dream of the void enveloping the city, seeping up from the cracks in the ground like steam from a volcano.

Now she didn’t care. She kept the book close to her and endured the dreams. In a way, that empty tome comforted her. She would never admit this to Brick – or Hellier, heaven forbid – but it made her feel powerful. Magical.

So as Henrietta drifted off to sleep, it was no surprise that she turned and hugged one arm over it.

Chapter 2

Henrietta dreamed….

Snow glowed under the moon. It bled its silver light over the forest, giving it an ethereal glow.

Henrietta ran. With her long dark green woolen skirt bunched in her sweaty left hand, she held the book with the other. Her arm ached from holding it so long, but she couldn’t let it go.

Her breath came out in ragged, uneven pants. Pressure flared in her chest and back and legs – she’d been running so long it felt as if she was ready to collapse.

She couldn’t. She had to get it some place safe. She couldn’t let them get the book.

As she ran through the moon-kissed snow, it collected in her boots, drenching her thick tights. She was bitterly cold, her breath coming out in white puffs.

She could use magic to warm her bones, but it would only attract the creature.

Magic brought it closer. Even the smallest spark would alert it to her presence, and again it would chase her.

Relentlessly.

Come on, she begged as she stumbled over a root concealed by the heaped snow. She grabbed the side of a pine tree for balance, the rough cold bark cutting her fingers. With another tortured breath, she pushed off.

If she didn’t manage to get the book some place safe….

There was a boom behind her. Far off, a tree burst into flame, the sound of its crackling wood echoing through the valley.

She made a desperate noise but kept moving.

Another tree exploded, this one closer. She turned her head to see a wall of flame reach up into the night sky.

She started to shake.

It was coming for her again.

As another tree was engulfed in flame, she heard it. A low, constant, terrifying moan. It sounded like a whale’s call, a distorted one. One that filled her with unquenchable fear.

She tripped in the snow, her body slamming into a drift. As she pulled herself free, the tree above her exploded. She was thrown back, her body twisting in the air until she fell hard into another snowdrift.

She could barely move. Yet she still held the book. With her dying grip, she locked it to her chest.

As she mustered her remaining strength to pull herself free from the drift, she heard it behind her.

She also saw it block out the moonlight. Black wisps of chaotically dancing smoke spread around her.

She turned.

She faced the creature.

Its body was massive, yet it wasn’t made of flesh. From its gaping mouth to its soulless eyes, it was formed entirely by compacted swirling smoke.

It towered above her.

She stopped breathing. It wasn’t the fear. As the creature leaned towards her, it brought up a massive hand and clutched it into a fist.

Pressure exploded through her chest. The pain came with it. Pain so powerful it could shatter her mind.

The creature tugged its hand back as if it were trying to pull something out of her.

She collapsed around the book, crying desperately. She could feel her magic being pulled from her chest – and it was the most excruciating thing she’d ever felt. She couldn’t let go of the book – she couldn’t let go of the book.

She screamed and screamed until she went limp.

Henrietta awoke with a start. Sweat was dripping down her brow, and her heart beat so wildly it was a surprise the bed didn’t shake with it.

It took a long time to assure herself it had just been a dream. Well, maybe not a dream – all her nightmares these days had some meaning to them, some warning.

Taking a steadying breath, she pushed up from the bed. Before she could leave her room, she checked on the book one last time. She ran a hand, somewhat affectionately, down the cover.

Now more than ever, she was determined to find out its secrets.

Chapter 3

Brick was having a