Read Online The Enchanted Writes Book One by Odette C. Bell - Free Book Online
Authors: Odette C. Bell
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another second
she reminded herself she didn't have the time to be glum; she had
found out she was some kind of magical Witch Hunter.
Her lips crumpled together and she gave an
odd and loud swallow.
“You’ll be okay; Marcia will forget
eventually,” Patrick tried.
“Thank you.” With that, she went back to
attempting to clean the already pristine bench. This time neither
Patrick nor Jimmy looked on at her with great concern; they were
clearly satisfied by her excuse.
The day dragged on, and every single time
Henrietta looked at the clock, it seemed as if the minute hands had
frozen in place. A few times she brought her hand up to her
hairpin, with the sudden idea of writing “make time go faster,” but
of course she never did it. She desperately wanted to run home,
lock the doors, pull the curtains, and whip out her hairpin. She
wanted to write Witch Hunter in the air with it, to see what would
happen.
As the day drew on, and the normal drudgery
of her life continued, she began to realize how fantastic last
night had been. Could she be a magical Witch Hunter? Could such a
thing exist? What of the strangely-dressed Brick? Could a man so
unflappable, odd, and powerful be real?
Henrietta had to wait until the end of her
shift to get any answers.
It was when she was walking home, and she
flagged down a bus, that her normal and boring day took a turn.
She usually didn't take the bus; she didn't
live that far away from where she worked. Plus, she always liked
the light exercise. But with ominous-looking rain clouds building
on the horizon, she had decided the bus was her only option.
She was in a hurry to get home. She was in a
hurry to push all the furniture to the side in her bedroom and to
take up her magical hairpin.
When she sat on the bus, it took Henrietta a
long while to realize that it was empty save for her and the
driver. In fact, it wasn't until the bus took a turn in the wrong
direction that she looked up.
Had she gotten on the wrong bus? Wasn't it
meant to turn left at Hickory Street?
For a while she sat there, pressing herself
closer to the glass so she could get a better view of where it was
driving. Eventually she realized the bus was heading out of town.
That's when she got to her feet and cleared her throat.
Latching a hand onto a handrail so she
didn't fall over considering how damn uncoordinated she was,
Henrietta turned towards the driver. “Excuse me, but where are we
headed? I think I may have gotten on the wrong bus.”
The driver didn't reply.
She took several steps forward, always
ensuring to latch her hand over a rail so she didn't tumble over
her own feet. “Excuse me, but where are we going? I think you
better let me out; my stop is in the other direction.”
The driver still didn't answer.
It wasn't until she made her way up to the
front of the bus that she figured out why. The driver was not
wearing an ordinary cap. He wasn't even wearing an ordinary
uniform. He was in a full leather jacket with a black leather
Akubra.
He turned around and offered her a grin.
Brick.
Henrietta gripped harder onto the rail she
was leaning next to, and she spluttered. “What are you doing here?
Are you a bus driver?” It was a stupid question. From her brief
experience with this man, she could bet that he was not a sodding
bus driver. He was a warrior monk, with ninja-quick, lightning-like
skills, a magical crossbow, and a jacket that seemed capable of
swallowing anything.
Brick shook his head. “Don't worry, I used
to drive the bus at the Warrior Monk Monastery; I have my bus
license.”
It was such an incongruous thing to say, but
at least it made her snort. Then she realized she was on a bus with
Brick the warrior monk, headed out of town. “Where are you taking
me?” she hissed.
“I know, I know, it's not night yet, and I
did promise to come and get you at night. The only problem is, we
have to get to work now. I have heard news of a witch on the
outskirts of town, and she is
she reminded herself she didn't have the time to be glum; she had
found out she was some kind of magical Witch Hunter.
Her lips crumpled together and she gave an
odd and loud swallow.
“You’ll be okay; Marcia will forget
eventually,” Patrick tried.
“Thank you.” With that, she went back to
attempting to clean the already pristine bench. This time neither
Patrick nor Jimmy looked on at her with great concern; they were
clearly satisfied by her excuse.
The day dragged on, and every single time
Henrietta looked at the clock, it seemed as if the minute hands had
frozen in place. A few times she brought her hand up to her
hairpin, with the sudden idea of writing “make time go faster,” but
of course she never did it. She desperately wanted to run home,
lock the doors, pull the curtains, and whip out her hairpin. She
wanted to write Witch Hunter in the air with it, to see what would
happen.
As the day drew on, and the normal drudgery
of her life continued, she began to realize how fantastic last
night had been. Could she be a magical Witch Hunter? Could such a
thing exist? What of the strangely-dressed Brick? Could a man so
unflappable, odd, and powerful be real?
Henrietta had to wait until the end of her
shift to get any answers.
It was when she was walking home, and she
flagged down a bus, that her normal and boring day took a turn.
She usually didn't take the bus; she didn't
live that far away from where she worked. Plus, she always liked
the light exercise. But with ominous-looking rain clouds building
on the horizon, she had decided the bus was her only option.
She was in a hurry to get home. She was in a
hurry to push all the furniture to the side in her bedroom and to
take up her magical hairpin.
When she sat on the bus, it took Henrietta a
long while to realize that it was empty save for her and the
driver. In fact, it wasn't until the bus took a turn in the wrong
direction that she looked up.
Had she gotten on the wrong bus? Wasn't it
meant to turn left at Hickory Street?
For a while she sat there, pressing herself
closer to the glass so she could get a better view of where it was
driving. Eventually she realized the bus was heading out of town.
That's when she got to her feet and cleared her throat.
Latching a hand onto a handrail so she
didn't fall over considering how damn uncoordinated she was,
Henrietta turned towards the driver. “Excuse me, but where are we
headed? I think I may have gotten on the wrong bus.”
The driver didn't reply.
She took several steps forward, always
ensuring to latch her hand over a rail so she didn't tumble over
her own feet. “Excuse me, but where are we going? I think you
better let me out; my stop is in the other direction.”
The driver still didn't answer.
It wasn't until she made her way up to the
front of the bus that she figured out why. The driver was not
wearing an ordinary cap. He wasn't even wearing an ordinary
uniform. He was in a full leather jacket with a black leather
Akubra.
He turned around and offered her a grin.
Brick.
Henrietta gripped harder onto the rail she
was leaning next to, and she spluttered. “What are you doing here?
Are you a bus driver?” It was a stupid question. From her brief
experience with this man, she could bet that he was not a sodding
bus driver. He was a warrior monk, with ninja-quick, lightning-like
skills, a magical crossbow, and a jacket that seemed capable of
swallowing anything.
Brick shook his head. “Don't worry, I used
to drive the bus at the Warrior Monk Monastery; I have my bus
license.”
It was such an incongruous thing to say, but
at least it made her snort. Then she realized she was on a bus with
Brick the warrior monk, headed out of town. “Where are you taking
me?” she hissed.
“I know, I know, it's not night yet, and I
did promise to come and get you at night. The only problem is, we
have to get to work now. I have heard news of a witch on the
outskirts of town, and she is
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