The Charm Runner (Broken Throne Book 1) Read online

  Cait showed up next. Cait’s commanding presence with her short cropped blonde hair, broad shoulders, and steady glare atop a tall, five foot eleven inch frame made her ideal to manage the crowd. She had just returned from a two-year tour in the military’s Chanter Unit, where she’d received the best combat training the government could provide while honing her offensive magic. Added attention from the temperance movement had caused the government to disband the long-standing unit and let the newly-trained chanter soldiers return to their enclaves with little more than a last-minute severance check for time served.

  Though she was two years older than Winnie, they had been close friends since childhood, probably because their mothers were practically sisters.

  Winnie reached the counter to find her half-sister, Morgan, helping Tris, bagging items for people as they checked out. She and Morgan didn’t always get along. Their father had had his affair with Winnie’s mother about the same time as Morgan’s mom had been pregnant with her.

  Her father had insisted that his daughters grow up knowing each other, despite the awkwardness. The relationship had a contentious history, but lately, Morgan and Winnie had grown closer. Still, Winnie was surprised when she showed up to help.

  “What’s up, Tris?” Winnie asked, stepping behind the counter.

  “I can’t read the charm on these salt and pepper shakers. It seems like a version of the never-ending stream charm but I couldn’t explain it to this woman.”

  “They go with a matching sugar bowl and bulk canister set that should have been boxed with them. I don’t know why they’re separated from the set,” Winnie replied. “They’ll refill themselves, as will the sugar bowl, as long as the matched canisters are filled in the pantry nearby.”

  “Ooh, that is handy,” cooed a woman at the counter. “Do you have the other items that go with it?”

  “I’ll grab them,” Morgan offered. “I know where she got them.”

  Winnie watched her sister head off into the bustling store, thankful again that she’d come to help. Morgan was a middling, like their father and her own mom, so she was helpless with most of the magical questions. Still, she seemed happy enough to assist with the busy work that came with any retail operation.

  While Morgan fetched the rest of the kitchen canister set, Winnie looked around the shop. Cait was standing by the door to the street with her arms crossed, wearing a black sleeveless tee, fingerless black gloves, and her new — and ever-present — wireless headphones. The former soldier was making sure no one decided to walk off with any merchandise without paying, and she looked like a sentinel on guard.

  Cait was bobbing her head in time to some song bleating through her headphones. She’d purchased the luxury with her severance, then had them magicked with access to every song ever recorded, so Cait could summon anything she wanted. Winnie wondered what she was listening to now.

  Morgan returned, worming her way through the crowd with a box containing the missing canister set and sugar bowl. “I found it, Winnie. It was the last one on the shelf.”

  “Thanks, sis.” Winnie took the box from her sister and handed it to Tris so she could read the price sticker and ring it up on the archaic register. “Morgan, can you go check in the back and see if there are any more sets like this? If there are, I’ll cast the charm on them, then you can put them out for someone else.”

  “Sure thing,” Morgan said. “I think you’re going to sell out of everything well before midnight. The shelves are all half-full at most, even with your weird cousin Joey trying to keep them stocked.”

  “Joey’s here, too?” Winnie looked around for her cousin. He was a bit of a screw up and she was a little nervous to have him here. He didn’t always show the best of judgment as a chanter. She didn’t want him casting an illegal charm to make a few dollars on the side.

  Tris tapped Winnie on the shoulder. “Maybe you should stop doing customized charms when customers can’t find exactly what they’re looking for. I can help some, but I’m not as talented with the detail work you learned from your mom.”

  “We’ll see,” Winnie said. “I hate to turn anyone away, or sell them something that doesn’t do what they want it to. I have some energy left. Do what you can and call me over if you can’t figure out what to do. I’ll try talking you through it. I’m just glad I was able to convince Mom to stay home. She would’ve tried to help and ended up hurting herself, or worse, miscasting a charm and injuring a customer in some way.”

  “She’s going to wonder why you’re not home soon. You didn’t tell her you were staying open until midnight.” Tris looked concerned. “Will she come looking for you?”

  “I hope not.”

  The Enclave, where all chanters were forced to live, was a rough sort of place. Most people could fend for themselves well enough, but Mom’s arthritis made her vulnerable to those who might want to take advantage. She could barely walk most days, and her hands were so terribly gnarled that she would’ve a hard time even opening a door to leave their apartment. Winnie hated to think of her mother getting mugged by some thug on the street while out looking for her daughter.

  “I’ll call and tell her I’m doing an inventory to comply with Resolution 84. Cait can ask her mom to pop over and check on her, too.” Winnie walked out from behind the counter and walked to her imposing friend by the door.

  Cait stopped her head bobbing and slipped an earphone off one ear when Winnie walked up.

  “How’s it going?” Winnie asked.

  Cait looked up. “Not too bad. I caught a few people trying to help themselves to some of your necessaries. But fortunately, middlings are idiots. I guess they don’t realize the spell you cast on the doorway won’t let them leave with something that isn’t paid for.”

  “Yeah, well, they’re the ones who voted in the Assembly that passed this stupid law,” Winnie replied. “Hey, can you send a message to your mom and ask her to check in on mine? I’m afraid she might try to come down here tonight on her own.”

  Cait pulled out her phone and tapped a message. Winnie thought it was strange how Cait had become attached to middling technology during her time in the service. She supposed it had something to do with being ordered to abstain from magic unless commanded to do so.

  Cait finished the message and dropped the phone back in her pocket. “Done.” She resumed her watch by the door, arms crossed and eyes scanning the room for trouble, eyeing the horde of frantic customers trying to buy the final magic items they would probably ever get to purchase. “So, what are you going to do after tonight?”

  Winnie sighed. She’d been trying not to think about that. The insane surge of customers had been enough to distract her until now. She looked around the shop — the business her mother had started, that Winnie had taken over at only fifteen, after Mom became too sick to manage on her own. She’d seen herself growing old here, running the business until she retired. But Resolution 84 changed her dream, and now she was going to lose it all. After tonight, if she tried to keep the shop open, Red Legs would come and lock her up. Then who would support her mother?

  “I don’t know.” Winnie shook her head, scanning the room.

  The shelves were nearly empty, with plenty of time before midnight to see them fully bare. Every tradesman in this part of Baltimore had cleaned out her tool section first thing in the morning. The nearby neighborhood housewives had done much the same with her kitchen supplies and appliances. There just wasn’t much left.

  “I figure with what I’ve sold so far tonight, I’ve made enough to buy us a couple of months, maybe a little more.” Winnie shrugged. “After that, I’ll have to figure something out.”

  The girls stopped talking as a tall, dark-haired boy came through the door. Winnie had never seen him before; she would have remembered the guy. He appeared around her age: eighteen or maybe slightly older. He nodded to them both before stepping fully inside the store. They tracked his smooth movements. He was dressed well, way better than most denizens of the n
eighborhood. He wore dark denim, a pressed white button-down shirt, and a black vest, fully buttoned. His shoes looked like they could’ve paid for a month of Mom’s medicine.

  “Excuse me, Cait,” Winnie said. “I have a customer.”

  “Not if I get to him first.”

  “Hey, I saw him first. Besides, this is my shop.”

  “Fair enough, but if you can’t close the deal, he’s all mine.”

  Winnie followed the boy down the nearest aisle. Maybe the night wouldn’t be a total bummer.

  CHAPTER 3

  Danny Barber had never been in this part of town, and he’d be willing to be none of his friends at the Parker School had either. He looked around, searching for the destination that he’d heard about plenty, but had never seen. The storefronts didn’t look shabby exactly, they just didn’t look new, or maybe as polished as he was used to seeing in his Assembly Hill neighborhood. Of course, most folks from the Assembly Hill community would not be caught dead slumming this close to the Enclave. Even if they wanted magic for themselves, they’d get it delivered.

  He knew his parents would crap themselves if they knew he was so close to the Enclave. Their stories of atrocities waged by chanters against those who ventured too near their ghetto were tired from use. He knew it was mostly made up. He checked his pocket again for the pistol he’d swiped from his father’s study. The old man never took it out anymore, just like he never told stories of the European war, when the expeditionary forces from the United Americas had tried to rescue the last of the middling holdouts from the coast of France. This pistol was his only legacy of that brief, failed war to prevent the old country’s collapse.

  Some people had wanted magic use ended in the Americas, too, following Europe’s fall. They’d blamed chanters for the barren wasteland that spread for miles around the continent’s greatest metropolises. Others thought it was the increased dependence on technology and byproducts of manufacturing that scarred the land. A few in the Green Party thought it was the combination of both, as insane as that sounded.

  Danny didn’t care. Like most twenty-year-olds, he was self-centered enough to think the world shaped itself to his view rather than the other way around. That was how he found himself alone, traipsing in the shadows on the nighttime streets edging the Chanter Enclave, searching for a certain shop that might supply him with a particular charmed item. He had to hurry. It was only a short time until midnight, when the Assembly’s Resolution 84 would pass.

  Danny was about to give up on his search and turn back when he saw one of the shops ahead pouring light onto the sidewalk. People were exiting the storefront and hurrying on their way. That had to be it: Charmed.

  Danny approached the door and stepped inside as another couple left with packages practically falling out of their arms. He glanced around, not failing to notice the scary Amazon standing just inside the entrance, or the pretty, brown-haired girl standing next to her.

  She wasn’t his usual type, but there was something about her. Maybe the way she smiled at him as he passed, or the cute way she tilted her head to one side when looking his way. Perhaps in another time and place, if she wasn’t a chanter, he’d offer his number. Not tonight, though. Tonight, Danny was on a mission.

  His friends all had a charmed toiletry set, including a razor, shaving mug and soap, along with a comb and hairbrush. The razor never needed sharpening or replacement, nor did it nick the skin, saving the blood of a conventional blade. When you brushed or combed your hair with the charmed set, your hair never got mussed, no matter how the wind blew.

  It was the simplest of magical items; most kids had some version before they had two digits to their birthday, even if they weren’t allowed to talk about it out loud. Danny had wanted one for himself, and had for years.

  His parents forbade it, of course, as they did any magic in the home. Danny’s father was the chairman of the magical temperance front in Baltimore and his mother led the ladies’ auxiliary. They would never buy him a set, and would burn his to ash if they found he had purchased one on his own.

  Danny didn’t care. He’d already purchased several magical items through the Parker School’s black-market trade in charmed items. He had the battery pack for his phone that recharged itself automatically every 24 hours, a pen set that never ran out of ink, and even a pair of track shoes that enabled him to run twice as fast as his middling legs should be able to go.

  Those last items were of the Sable trade, forbidden even before the passage of Resolution 84. Not that Danny cared much. He was only interested in what made his life easier and earned him respect among his peers. That was why he had to have that shaving kit.

  He walked down the first aisle, searching the nearly empty shelves. A pleasant voice piped behind him: “Hello, may I help you find something in particular?”

  Danny turned to see the pretty girl from the entrance walking up the aisle behind him. Her smile was infectious; he couldn’t help but smile back.

  “I’m not sure if you can or not. I’m looking for a razor and hair brush set?” He looked around, trying to gather his bearings. “Would you direct me to the correct aisle? I’m sure I can help myself after that. You must have more important things to do than helping me.”

  “What kind of shop owner would I be if I didn’t help you find what you want?” She held out her hand.” I’m Winnie.”

  He took it, nodding, still smiling. She was the shop owner? “I’m Danny, Danny Barber.”

  She dropped his hand after a moment of possible lingering. “Well, Danny Barber, let’s get you set up with a razor and shaving kit. I wouldn’t want you scraping your face with a mundane middling blade when we can get you a charmed one.”

  She turned and led him over two aisles to a set of shelves on the wall, mostly empty. A few isolated items remained like leaves on a winter tree.

  “I don’t see any shaving kits,” he said. “You sure you’re not just using this as an excuse to talk to me?”

  She laughed and he smiled. Her laughter was music. “I think I still have at least one more back in the stock room. I might need help reaching it, if you don’t mind.”

  Winnie led Danny toward the back of Charmed. He followed behind, eyeing the many barren shelves until she stopped and pointed to the top shelf along a rear wall.

  He looked up, following her finger to see a weathered leather shaving bag with bright brass trim resting on the top shelf.

  Winnie said, “If you can reach that, I can cast a charm on it. You’ll get the closest, safest shave of your life. You’ll be the envy of your friends, and your girlfriend will love it.”

  “Oh, I don’t have a girlfriend,” Danny blurted, not knowing if he should feel embarrassed. He reached up to retrieve the black leather bag then handed it down to Winnie.

  She set the shaving kit on the counter, unzipped the bag, and pulled out a gold trimmed safety razor with a top that unscrewed upward from the handle. A razor blade rested inside the head. She muttered something under her breath and Danny thought she was talking to him for a moment before he realized she was casting a charm.

  He’d never seen magic worked in person, and it wasn’t what he expected. There were no flashing lights or dinging bells. Winnie sort of sang to the razor while waving the fingers of her free hand across it in intricate motions. After about thirty seconds, she screwed the head closed over the blade and replaced it in the kit, then pulled out the brush and comb inside and repeated what she’d done with the razor, though the song sounded different the second time.

  Winnie replaced the brush and comb, then zipped the bag shut, handing it to him. “There you go. You’re all set.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I cast an ever-sharp charm and added a no-nicks component to the razor blade and handle. You still need to be careful. It will only work if you take your time. Try to rush it, and you’ll overpower the charm and cut yourself.” She smiled. “Trust me. I shaved my legs once when I was late for a date and regretted it all n
ight.”

  Turnabout was fair play. “So you have a boyfriend?”

  “No, it was a one-time thing. I’m not seeing anyone right now. Too busy running the shop.”

  “That’s a shame,” he said, taking the shaving kit. “I’d like a woman’s opinion after I try this out. I thought you might like to see how your merchandise works in the field.”

  “Nice try, but I’m not sure that would be a good idea. A chanter girl and a nice boy from … ?” She eyed him then guessed: “Mount Vernon? Canton?”

  “I’m from Assembly Hill, actually.”

  “Oh, you really are slumming, aren’t you? What would your neighbors think if they knew you were here?”

  “They’re hypocrites who decry the use of magic in public while secretly using it behind locked doors. Most of them are like that. There are a few who are true believers. My parents are in with that last group. Totally temperance-obsessed.”

  They fell into an uncertain silence, until they were interrupted by a commotion from the shop’s front room — shouts and a few yelps as if someone was being struck. A voice called back to them from the doorway.

  “Winnie, you’d better get out here! It looks like trouble!”

  Danny followed her into the store’s front and saw men in uniforms pushing and shoving their way through the crowded store, working their way to the counter.

  The Red Legs were here, red trousers like blood beneath their navy-blue tunics. He looked down at his watch: 11:30 p.m. — a half-hour early.

  One of the men pushed his way to the counter and shouted for silence. “Where’s the owner of this Godforsaken shop?”

  “Constable Holmes … ” Winnie stepped toward the counter and confronted the uniformed man. “What can I do for you? If you’re here to shut me down, I believe you’re early. I’m breaking no laws.”

  The Red Leg constable raised his hand to strike at Winnie, presumably for correcting him. A teen boy Danny didn’t know ran in shouting, grabbing at the constable’s hand to stop his swing.