Enchanted No More. Robin D. Owens

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      To the Word Warriors and Lisa (Crash)

      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

      CHAPTER 29

      CHAPTER 30

      CHAPTER 31

      CHAPTER 32

      Acknowledgments

      CHAPTER 1

      A late January night, Denver

      JENNI WEAVERS’S SKIN PRICKLED AS THE heaviness of ancient earth magic crossed her front boundary and marched up her sidewalk to her front porch.

      A dwarf was at the door. The magical kind of dwarf, from the Lightfolk. He waited for her to acknowledge him. He could wait forever. She wasn’t budging from her second-floor office.

      The doorbell rang, a fruity ripple of notes that she’d gotten used to since she’d bought the house, and had begun to actually like. She would not open the door. She’d been dodging phone calls from strange numbers for days. The doorbell sounded again. She stared out the window, nothing to see but dark, no moon tonight, and her neighbors’ windows weren’t lit. The doorbell rang a third time. And the clear phone on her desk lit up and trilled. And her cell in her bedroom warbled “The Ride of the Valkyries.” She was afraid if she answered the door the tune might become all too appropriate.

      She set her teeth, turned up her computer speakers and continued typing. The final tweaks to the new little story line for the mass multiplayer online game were due tonight.

      Her computer died an unnatural death.

      A supernatural death.

      A touch-of-fey death.

      She stared at it openmouthed.

      The ringing and ringing and ringing went on.

      Stomping downstairs in her fuzzy slippers, she peered out the peephole and saw no one, not on the drafty covered porch or the stoop beyond. Definitely a full-blooded dwarf if she couldn’t see him.

      Another bad sign.

      She shouldn’t open the door, but didn’t think the dwarf would go away or her computer would come back on until she responded to all the noise.

      Her cell tune changed to “Hall of the Mountain King.” She hadn’t programmed that in.

      Hard raps against the door—of course he wouldn’t use the silver Hand of Fatima knocker.

      Knowing she was making a mistake, she opened the door. Recognized and stared down at a dapperly dressed dwarf in a dark gray tux. Drifmar. “What part of ‘never darken my door again’ did you Lightfolk not understand?”

      He smiled ingratiatingly, addressed her by her birth name. “Mistress Jindesfarne Mistweaver, we’ve found a pair of brownies who’d indenture themselves to you, despite your many cats. A token of our esteem.” He swept a hand toward two small beings—shorter and thinner than the four-foot solidly built dwarf—shivering in the late-January cold. The long tips of their furry ears folded in for warmth. Both male and female were dressed only in white shorts and sleeveless tops.

      Jenni looked at the goodwill offering. They were scrawny and wrinkled. Their triangular faces and equally large and usually triangular ears and small vicious pointy teeth made them look as mean as wet cats. They wrapped their arms around themselves and leaned together.

      “I don’t need household help,” she said. “I am a productive member of human society, I have a cleaning team every month.”

      “You have a squirrel hole in your eaves above the door,” Drifmar, the dwarf, pointed out.

      “I like the squirrel hole,” Jenni insisted. “I like the squirrels.”

      The brownies perked up.

      The dwarf bowed. “Mistress Jindesfarne, we have great problems.”

      “Always СКАЧАТЬ