by Aiden James
Maybe none of this is real. Maybe I’m still sleeping in my Bajenie bed inside the hut that had been my prison cell, and home, for what I’ve assumed was just two months.
“No, it’s quite real, dearie. No dreaming going on here today,” said the hippy-looking lady, chuckling sweetly. Her British accent surprised me. “I’m Matilda Albright, and this is my husband, Arthur.”
Her light gray eyes simmered ever so slightly, as did her husband’s dark brown eyes—the sure sign of a witch and warlock caught in a moment of amusement.
Are these my constables?
They both nodded.
Well, how about that? Two more mental voyeurs to join my uncle and the women in my family in sifting haphazardly through my thoughts!
“The Albrights are actually quite fun, Bas,” Alisia advised, whispering in my ear again. I caught her casting a wary glance toward the mortals coming up fast behind us, pushing everyone in the kitchen toward the cake, balloons, streamers, and the ostentatious ‘welcome home’ sign that promised worse embarrassment was yet to come.
“We’ve been looking forward to this day for quite some time, young Sebastian,” said Arthur, lightly stroking a braided beard long enough to graze his belly button. “Welcome home, dear boy!”
“Thanks,” I said, demurely. “I take it you moved here from England?”
“Indeed, we did—just to be closer to you and your family.”
“We reside in the lovely Victorian at the end of the block,” added Matilda. “We look forward to having you over for some shortbread cookies and tea—hopefully soon!”
She smiled lovingly, while Arthur studied me with an admiring look. It made me think of the long-lost great aunts and uncles I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting. My immediate family had left them all behind during their first move to America in 1802; and it happened again when my parents moved the three of us back to America from France almost eighty-eight years later, soon after I was born. It was their second trip from Europe to the United States, after fleeing America due to the Mateis’ deadly threats—something mentioned in my first chronicle.
A sudden peaceful sensation settled upon me, and I believed it came from this elderly couple—these newcomers to Denmark, sent as constables by the EEC.
To keep an eye on my rebellious ass... how sweet!
As if still reading my thoughts, they paused to regard each other. When they returned their attention to me, it appeared as if they wanted to tell me something important. However, Dad clinked a spoon against the punch bowl to get everyone’s attention.
“Thank you, our friends and family, for joining us in this joyous celebration for our son, Sebastian. We’re grateful he has returned safe and sound to us after more than a year’s absence from Denmark!”
My father’s proclamation drew immediate applause, as well as a number of beer and ale bottles raised in salute. A surge of warmth spread rapidly across both cheeks. The embarrassment I feared had arrived.
“Would you care to add anything, my love?” Dad asked Mom.
“Only that we’re glad and grateful you’re home, safe and sound, son!”
She appeared to be on the verge of tears, which gave me the feeling she had worried I could be locked up for far longer than I was... maybe even a decade or two.
To try and lessen the emotional furor that seemed poised to take over the kitchen, as well as appease those who couldn’t squeeze inside the normally spacious room, I decided to seize the moment before things became a bigger mess.
“Thank you, everyone!” I said, motioning around me as I raised my voice. “Let’s get this party started!”
I heard a ‘Whoop!’ from Alisia, still standing behind me, and I caught her loving smile as I glanced over my shoulder. Dad, Grandma, and Grandpa looked relieved—and even Mom offered me a grateful look.
Regardless if I felt happy or not, I decided to try the old adage of ‘fake it till you make it.’ And, at first, it worked. I even danced in the foyer with Twyla and a few older neighborhood girls. Feeling increasingly hopeful about things, the subtle euphoria lasted until the fading sunlight announced dusk’s arrival, and our guests began to pack up and leave.
It would’ve been the perfect moment to end the party and retreat to my bedroom upstairs. However, as I exited the kitchen with a pile of new shirts and a sharp-looking Tissot watch from the gift pile on the island, I overheard a comment by Adrian as I passed by him and my father in the foyer near Dad’s office. Had I not done so, I might’ve nursed the good feeling for hours more... maybe even for a day or two. But my positive outlook came to a crashing halt when their quiet conversation reached my ears.
“Yeah, I just confirmed it with our cousin, Silas, in Bucharest,” said Adrian, his voice hushed just above a whisper. “Daciana Matei has been betrothed to a grand nephew of Wizard Ninnius. The wedding is set for next Saturday. And, once the ceremony is completed, our freedom from the EEC’s oversight is all but assured.”
“Poor Bas... how do we break the news to him?” My father’s tone reflected genuine pain. “I fear it’s too soon to lay it on him. You know how he can be.... Oh, hey, son. I didn’t see you standing there.”
They both turned toward me, and it was Adrian’s ‘oh shit’ look that told my father the secret they would’ve loved to keep from my awareness had flown the coop.
“Son, I’m so sorry—”
“It’s okay, Dad.” I lied, while the foyer’s walls and thirty-foot ceiling felt as if they were swiftly closing in upon me. “It was bound to happen.” I forced a smile.
They nodded thoughtfully while studying me—especially my uncle, whose invisible psychic tendrils I pictured invading my head. I quickly thought about my raccoon and mole menagerie. A difficult challenge to pull off while also pushing aside a powerful tsunami of emotions that would surely bring me to tears very soon.
“I need to take this stuff upstairs, and I’ll be back down in a little while.” Without waiting for a response, I hurried to my bedroom.
It wasn’t necessarily a lie, but if I did emerge from my room anytime soon, it wouldn’t happen until after I had a chance to fully digest the news I’d just heard and refocus my mind and heart on a new future.... One that didn’t include Daciana by my side.
Chapter Five
I awoke to a rooster’s cries at dawn the next morning.
More like almost flew out of my bed, since I had forgotten about the ornery protector of the large henhouse in our least likeable neighbor’s backyard—located roughly three hundred feet from my bedroom. Granted, that’s a football field’s worth of distance, and those who don’t reside in a rural town probably can’t picture how a crowing rooster’s call can travel over that distance.
It sounded like “Mad Max”—Harry Turner’s name for his ill-tempered ‘Rhode Island Red’—sat perched upon my window’s ledge.
In the midst of a painful dream, somewhat ironically, Max had rescued me from a collage of heartrending memories of Daciana from our brief dalliance in the summer of 2019. The fact I had dreamt about her wasn’t a shock, given she had been my obsession for what turned out to be an additional year during my incarceration. But it also painted a bleak picture of how the healing process would progress.
Is this what I can look forward to during the coming days, weeks, months... or perhaps even longer?
Well, I decided right then that I would do whatever I could to move on. A night spent reflecting in private about everything involving Daciana not only left me with restless dreams and little sleep, it also made me determined to not be an object of pity. Besides, she had moved on, and soon would be a ‘Mrs. Ninnius’, or something similar.
“That’s right—enough of the bullshit, Bas. Get it together... today we start anew!” I whispered forcefully, before pulling out the fresh journal I had broken in the previous night, and which I am writing in now. I wrote the date “Thursday, September 17, 2020” at the top of a new page, and below that heading “Never again will I give my heart to a wom
an so easily!”
There, it’s done.
But a niggling thought swirled inside my head.
We’ll see about that big boy!
Yeah, we will. Now, beat it!
Ignoring the mental joust, I showered and dressed in my favored jeans and dark t-shirt ensemble. Ready to face the world, I exited my room for the first time since last evening and headed downstairs.
I was prepared for one or two members of my family to be up this early, but when I stepped inside the kitchen, every member whom I have shared living space with during the past century was seated around the island or at the kitchen table.
All of them eyed me expectantly.
“Good morning!” I flashed what I hoped was an optimistic smile.
“You look rested, son,” said Dad, sounding relieved. “Again, I’m sorry about last night.”
“No worries... I understand how things must be, and I am ready to move on.”
“Really, so soon?” Adrian sounded skeptical. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I am.” I got out a small skillet from a cabinet next to the stove, intending to fix a couple of fried eggs. “Anyone care to join me for some breakfast? Or, have you all eaten?”
“A few of us have eaten,” offered Grandpa, nodding to Grandma and Alisia.” The rest will have to wait.”
“Wait for what?”
I noticed now that everyone’s eyes were aglow... something important was afoot.
“Sweetheart, you might want to grab your usual Pop Tarts from the pantry and a glass of milk, or orange juice,” Mom advised. “The Albrights have requested your presence at their home at eight o’clock sharp this morning.”
She looked worried. Ditto for just about everyone else. My uncles were the only ones not brooding, as Adrian’s and Manuel’s expressions were blank.
“The older couple I met last night?”
“Yes, son, our constables have summoned you,” Dad confirmed. “It shouldn’t be a big deal. Nothing painful... as long as you are completely forthcoming.”
“About what?”
“About anything and everything they ask you, Bas,” said Grandma. “You have about thirteen minutes to grab a bite and make it to their front porch on time. Here, we’ll help speed things up for you, dear.”
She motioned for me to take an empty seat at the island between my grandparents. In the brief moment that I looked over at Alisia, who smiled knowingly while offering a subtle shrug, a packet of chocolate Pop Tarts and a frosted glass of milk appeared on the island at the seat reserved for me by Grandma.
I wanted to ask “since when did it become okay to behave like the spell casting witches and warlocks we are?” But then I assumed this must be one of the privileges extended to us by the EEC when operating inside the privacy of Twin Magnolias. It seemed especially plausible when considering what Julien had told me about the germ-killing mists hovering over the thresholds to our home yesterday afternoon.
“Be honest with Arthur and Matilda, Sebastian,” Adrian advised as I sat down. “If it’s true that you’re fully committed to moving on from Daciana, they will know. And if not? Don’t lie. Don’t try to hide your thoughts. The consequences from tripping over the truth will be far worse in their presence than it would be here amongst your family.”
“Your uncle’s right,” said Dad, eyeing me thoughtfully. “We can’t protect you any further, now that you’ve returned from Bajenie.”
Leery of the somber warnings, I wondered if it might be best to postpone the meeting. After all, I had only been back in Denmark for not even a full day yet. True, I had set my mind to do everything in my power to forget Daciana—which seemed to be the primary focus of my family’s concerns since yesterday. What else could possibly come up? Perhaps something else... something I hadn’t thought much about since that fateful July morning in the woods behind the art school?
At the moment, I had no clue, and focused on finishing my breakfast in the next few minutes.
What about the Vulpe Ring briefly discussed yesterday morning?
The question popped in my head as I finished draining the last of the milk in my glass.
“If they do ask about the ring, son, just tell them what you learned yesterday... that it still hasn’t turned up yet,” Mom advised. “Again, just be as honest as you can... about everything.”
“Time to go, Bas!” Manuel tapped the glass face on his Apple watch. “You’ve got about a minute to make it to the Albrights’ front porch.”
I glanced at my new wristwatch, and it showed less time... about twenty seconds, to be exact, until eight o’clock arrived.
It must’ve been the correct time. Before I hurriedly set my plate and glass in the sink, I heard a soft incantation from my grandmother’s lips and the items disappeared from my hands. Next thing I knew, I found myself standing in front of an ornate wrought iron gate marking the walkway to a grand Victorian home. I recognized the house as the Deans’ next-door neighbor and the last building on our block.
The Albrights’ place.
The front door creaked open and a large English sheepdog barreled out from the house, barking at my presence.
“Your right on time, Sebastian!” said Arthur Albright, his long gray hair obscuring much of his face as he called for the dog to get back inside. Amber-tinted brown eyes glowed softly in the covered front porch’s dimness. He brushed aside his hair, grinning at me before peering back inside the stately home. “Mattie, our guest of honor has arrived!”
*****
“Come inside Sebastian!” Matilda enthused, upon my reaching the front door and pushing my head in through the entrance. Arthur and the dog he lovingly addressed as Harrison had disappeared from view. Meanwhile, his wife stood in a doorway to what I assumed was the kitchen to this magical place. “Could I interest you in some fresh shortbread wafers and a cup of orange pekoe tea?”
My stomach growled, reminding me of my hurried and meager breakfast. Not to mention, the delectable smell of fresh shortbread was irresistible.
“Sure, that sounds great. They smell amazing!”
“Thank you, Bas... come into the kitchen and pull up a chair at the table.”
She disappeared from view, and I could hear Arthur’s voice along with the restrained noises from their beloved pooch protesting the quiet commands to ‘behave’.
I did say ‘magical’ for a reason. In addition to the classic Victorian woodwork artistry that rivaled the Mays home’s interior just up the block, the walls were covered with a variety of antique timepieces. The clocks were seemingly everywhere, lining the walls along the stairway heading up to the second level. Smiling in admiration, I stopped to listen to scores of tick-tocks resounding in unison.
“Come on in, dear boy!” Arthur urged, peering through the kitchen doorway. “The wafers taste best when fresh out of the oven!”
“Oh, sorry about that.” I followed the older gentleman to the table set with a large tea kettle and two trays of the mouthwatering wafers. Harrison was curled up beneath the table.
Unlike the day before, the pair were dressed in semi-formal attire—like a butler and hostess from an English castle of legendary lore.
“We usually dress a bit more casually, and relate best to the free-spirited 1960s,” offered Matilda, surely spying on my thoughts as my mother and grandmother had done earlier that morning.
“That’s the most appealing period from the past century,” added Arthur. “Not so gloomy as the decades before that one, and not so uptight as everything that has transpired since. So, we only dress up when handling the EEC’s directives.” He chuckled.
He motioned for me to take the chair across from him and his wife, while he pulled out a long-stem pipe from inside his jacket.
“Mind if I light up for a wee while?”
“Not at all,” I said. “You mentioned this concern is an EEC directive. What’s it all about?”
“You’ll learn the details soon enough... but first, let’s enjoy some shortbread and tea
. Shall we?”
“Sure, sounds good.”
Once seated, I enjoyed the tasty wafers and tea with my hosts. Thankfully, they kept the ‘pleasantry’ chit-chat to a minimum before moving on to why I had been summoned.
“By now, you’ve heard about Daciana Matei’s wedding to Magnus Ninnius nine days from now,” said Matilda. “Our hearts go out to you, Bas.... How are you feeling about it all?”
I admit, I didn’t expect this to be the first question lobbed at me. It took a moment to know what to say—and I intended to give an honest answer.
Trouble was, I really didn’t know how I felt. I could talk all day long about what I thought; including the new course of action I had decided upon. But to get to that resolution, it meant shutting down my heart. I wasn’t prepared to go down that unhappy road again.
“Sad,” I said, nodding grimly while determined to keep at bay the swirling emotions fighting to get out. “But, also hopeful. I have to move on, and I know this. So, I will make the best of things until someone else comes along.”
I pictured a woman like Alisia in my head, since she has almost always been able to make me smile. No, I don’t have a thing for my kid sister... but I’ve always hoped to find someone with our mother’s or her personality. Fun but fiery, and whose smile can light up a room.
Just like Daciana.
Stop it, dammit!
“Are you okay, Sebastian?”
Arthur posed the question after exchanging curious glances with Matilda.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I nodded while forcing what I hoped was a confident smile.
“It’ll just take time, dear,” Matilda said soothingly. “And, we know you’ll obey the edict and not try to interfere with next weekend’s nuptials. Correct?”
“I won’t interfere in any way,” I assured her, wondering why Matilda needed for me to confirm this fact. “Like I said, I’m ready to move on.”
“Good. It’s direly important that the two of you stay on separate paths from here on out.” She eyed me seriously.