Witch out of Water

by Aiden James

  “Uh, maybe it’s not such a good idea for me to embarrass myself,” said Harris, rising from his chair to greet us. Harrison followed behind him, stooping slightly as if his back had stiffened from sitting on an antique couch. “I’m great at fixing things—especially stuff outdoors. And, I can still do some magic with a football when my knee ain’t bothering me. But my ma will tell y’all that I was born tone deaf. In fact, you might not even need the organ tonight to get the dogs howling around here if I dare sing anything—much less attempt to play an instrument!”

  That was funny—especially when he added a comical facial expression to go with it. I noticed Harris was nursing what appeared to be a Jack n’ coke, and I decided that would be my ticket to the same inebriated joy in a short while.

  “What about the cats and raccoons, Harris?” Harrison—who is a natural showman from his many years entertaining folks on a Mississippi riverboat—struck a grandfatherly pose while speaking in a Mark Twain voice, and acting as if offended for these other critters’ omission. “You are remiss to ignore our other furry Denmark friends! Wouldn’t they be just as put off as the neighborhood canines?”

  He pushed his glasses back up from the tip of his nose while tapping one foot. I noticed our town’s famed banjo player, luthier, and artist was wearing 1920s styled wingtips. Truly, eccentricity runs freely in Denmark.

  In the meantime, Harris eyed Harrison solemnly, as if he had taken insult from Harrison’s playful upbraid. For a moment, I traded guarded looks with Dad while Grandpa grinned in amusement.

  Suddenly the two men burst out laughing, and it quickly spread to the rest of us.

  “Oh, Lord, yes they would, Mr. Crawford, sir!” said Harris, lightly imitating Harrison’s delivery from a moment ago. “As a matter of fact, the cats and the raccoons would be tearing at Julien’s window screens to get in here so they could eviscerate the source of their supreme annoyance!”

  “What... you?” Harrison grinned mischievously.

  “Hell, no! They’d be coming just for y’all, since I’d have the presence of mind to hightail it out of here, at the first sign of such trouble!”

  “Along with three warlocks!” I added.

  “Oh, great!” said Julien. “So, after many years of my serenades, the little bastards would finally have their revenge on me!” He paused to give an elfin grin. “Cheers!”

  Our host downed the rest of his cocktail and headed for the organ, flipping the main switch to turn it on. I could almost see the ozone rising from the ancient appliance as it steadily awakened.

  “Before we get started, there’s a large pot of Meredith’s wonderful chili simmering on the stove. It’s there for whenever anyone gets hungry. In the meantime, what can I get you to drink, my Radu threesome?”

  “I’ll have what you’re drinking,” said Dad.

  “Yeah, that sounds good—count me in on one of those cranberry vodka cocktails too!” Grandpa enthused.

  “How about you, Sebastian?” A fresh ornery twinkle flickered in Julien’s hazel eyes. “What does the guy who’s gone the longest without tasting distilled spirits desire?”

  “I want what he’s having,” I said, pointing to Harris, who was heading back to the wingback chair he had previously occupied.

  “Good choice, Bas!” He lifted his near-empty glass in salute.

  From there, things got rolling. I don’t think anyone in my family was ready for the throbbing power of Julien’s organ as it shook the entire house with each drawn out chord his fingers lingered upon—obviously ‘souped up’ from the new upgrades. And, as promised, between each tune’s commencement a chorus of howls could be heard from across the neighborhood. Doubtless, anyone who knew Julien Mays was behind the mischief cursed him and his blessed instrument!

  It was even worse when it came time for me to try my hand at this. I hadn’t played a pipe organ since before either Julien’s or even Harrison’s storied lifetimes began. It sounded like it, too, but at least it inspired even more hilarity—surely enhanced by the liquor.

  Near the end of our festive evening, I had a chance to ask Harris about his knee, and if he’d ever walk without a limp again. At the time, we were the only ones still sitting in the Mays’ main parlor—or living room, as Grandpa agreed to share panatelas with Julien on the front porch while Dad and Harrison kept them company.

  “Nah, I don’t think so,” he confided. “Not unless I allow Alisia to heal it, like she’s been begging me to do. Maybe someday, I guess... but my football days are over.”

  “That’s too bad, man,” I said. “Dad and I could fix it too, you know, as could Grandpa.”

  “I know.” He smiled, pausing to sip what he had announced was his last Jack n’ coke for the night. “But things are going well without balling. Who knows? Maybe it was meant to be.”

  “If you don’t mind telling me, since I wasn’t around at the time, how’d the injury happen?”

  Harris shook his head, with a faraway look in his soft brown eyes.

  “It was the strangest thing, Bas. I took a handoff on an ‘end-around’ play, and there was nobody ahead of me. It should’ve been clear sailing to the end zone that night. Then it happened. Just a freak accident, man. I heard a pop, and it felt like somebody shot me in the knee....”

  I waited for him to go on, and my patience was rewarded a moment later.

  “I remember laying there, man. I can still picture, and feel, the coolness of the grass on the back of my arms and legs,” he said. “Your sister and I had just started seeing each other back then, and she rushed onto the field, along with Coach Miles and our trainer.... From there it was a blur, as I tried not to think about anything much. Alisia’s encouragement, along with my ma’s words of hope helped me recover. But the scholarship offers quickly disappeared when it became obvious that my reconstructed knee wasn’t a complete success. Even today, there’s lingering pain, and maybe another surgery can make it better. Maybe not.... Oh, hey, Babe. I thought you’d be tied up until ten tonight?”

  We both looked up to find my sister standing before us. Likely, she had been there for nearly a minute, and I had been so engrossed by Harris’s story that I wasn’t aware Alisia had stepped inside the parlor.

  “It’s almost ten-fifteen.” She pointed to her watch. “You still up for a movie, or do you wanna go home and crash?”

  “I’m good,” he assured her, although a little wobbly when he stood. “Okay... maybe I should go home.” He laughed.

  “Here... let me help you.”

  Alisia eyed him lovingly, and he returned her gaze similarly. I confess to feeling a mixture of admiration and envy. I wanted what they had, although not if it ever cost them this special bond that I had no idea would happen a year ago.

  I watched them leave the Mays residence arm-in-arm, as they headed for Harris’s mom’s bungalow located across the street from our barn. Grandpa came up beside me to watch, while Julien continued to entertain Dad and Harrison with his patented talent for sending ultra-cool smoke rings skyward from the front porch.

  “It was a wand shot that took out his knee,” Grandpa said quietly. “Serghei Matei did it.”

  “What?”

  I whirled to face him, and my grandfather shushed me.

  “How? How is that even possible?” I asked, horrified at the revelation. “I thought that little puke was incarcerated like me and Manuel?”

  “He was sentenced to a very lenient ‘house arrest,” said Grandpa, motioning for me to let him finish as I fought to keep a mini-Vesuvius building within me from erupting. “The Mateis have long had stronger influence on the EEC than we Radus, I’m afraid. But once the Elders learned that Serghei had taken offense to a witch fraternizing romantically with a mortal—even though it didn’t involve his clan—and acted upon that prejudice, he was found guilty of using an unwarranted wand attack to cripple a mortal—namely Harris. The crime took place during last year’s homecoming game.

  “For that, he was finally sentenced to the same
type of purgatory as yourself,” he continued. “Unfortunately, his imprisonment lasted just six months. And, worse, instead of just having constables to guard our individual neighborhoods, or zones, we now have three additional constables operating from downtown, as you’ve recently learned. Life for all of us—Radus or Mateis—became much more restrictive.”

  I wanted to march over to the Mateis’ side of town and call out that worthless miscreant! To deliver the ass-whooping Serghei more than deserved.

  “I could so kill that bastard right about now!” I seethed, barely able to keep from shaking in my rage.

  “Son, as much as I understand—and agree—it would only make things worse,” said Grandpa. “As restrictive as things remain for you and us, Serghei Matei is still under indefinite house arrest inside the Mateis’ Denmark residence—the old Bresden place—with only preapproved chaperoned excursions with the older Matei males allowed.”

  “But it seems so unfair—”

  “Shhh! That could be you, too, Bas, if you let your anger get the best of you!” Grandpa warned, drawing looks from Dad, Harrison, and Julien. “Until further notice, it’s best to ignore, avoid, and disassociate yourself from all of the Mateis.”

  Chapter Eight

  Taking Grandpa’s advice seemed like the wisest choice.

  After returning home that night, I rode the buzz I had worked to attain at Julien’s place upstairs in my bedroom. And, as I hoped, the artificial bliss made for better dreams that night. Abstract journeys with no rhyme or reason to them—a welcome change to the seemingly endless parade of nocturnal visitations involving Daciana Matei.

  When I awoke Saturday morning, my initial thought was this day would be the official start of rebuilding my life without her. I would embrace the town I had steadily developed a fondness for after my family fled the Chicago area last year. Thankfully, that love hadn’t been dampened by my fourteen-month absence.

  I felt hopeful... although my usual skepticism began to creep back into my awareness as the fading vestiges from last night’s slight inebriation ended.

  My cell phone chirped next to my bed, and when I picked it up, I found Alisia had sent me a text.

  Ready for some fun today, Bas?

  I started to reply, but then realized she was likely downstairs enjoying breakfast, since it was just after 7:30 a.m. and Tuttle’s wouldn’t open for at least another hour or two, as part of their extended hours for Oktoberfest. Instead, I showered and dressed for the day... which for me is pretty much my standard attire of jeans and a t-shirt. And, since there seemed to be a slight chill in the air—despite late summer’s humid return yesterday—I donned a light windbreaker.

  Armed with my preferred Ray-Bans and my hair pulled back in a ponytail, I felt ready to greet the day... rock n’ roll style.

  “Well, aren’t you looking sharp in a casual way, Sebastian,” Grandpa commented, upon my arrival downstairs. He sat in the living room with Alisia and Lucian. The scent of cherry almond told of his cherished pipe before I saw it resting on its stand upon the end table closest to the foyer. A slight ember glowed in the pipe’s center.

  “Hey, Bas, I love your hair pulled back like that!” my sis enthused. She rose from the loveseat to greet me. “I’m thinking we should stick to a light breakfast. What do you think? We don’t want to spoil our mid-morning dessert.”

  “Thanks, and yeah that’s a good idea,” I said. “Where is everybody else?”

  I peered into the kitchen. No sign of Mom and Grandma.

  “They’re at Sadee’s, but will be back within the hour,” Alisia advised. “Hopefully, it doesn’t rain much today or the afternoon fun will be frigging ruined!”

  She pointed to the window above the main sink, where cloudy dreariness blanketed the neighborhood. I perched my sunglasses atop my head to get a better look... nothing but dark gray clouds above and even darker clouds in the distance.

  “I bet all of downtown’s indoor eateries like Tuttle’s will be packed, since that sure as hell looks like an approaching downpour on its way,” I said.

  “Yep, I noticed the storm approaching earlier this morning from the Beauregards’ roof,” commented Grandpa, joining Alisia and me in the kitchen. A soft jingle announced that Lucian had also joined us, and I nearly stepped on the little guy’s paws as he danced and twirled around our feet. “But, maybe it will clear up before the afternoon. Still, you two might want to get there a little early. Will you be traveling by foot with umbrellas, or by broomstick?” He shot us an impish smile while an emerald flame flickered in his eyes.

  “We can take broomsticks?” My sudden hopefulness inspired chuckles from both my sis and our grandfather.

  “Uh, no,” said Alisia. “That sort of thing has to be signed off on by the head constable.”

  “Since when?” Grandpa opened the refrigerator and removed some eggs and bacon. “Bas, how about I fix you that light breakfast Ali suggested. She’s already eaten.”

  “What do you mean ‘since when’?” I asked.

  “Bas, he’s just messing with you!”

  Alisia shook her head emphatically enough to loosen her own ponytail. Dressed in a fall blouse and full leg crops, I like her new style that’s surely been influenced by Harris’s presence in her life.

  “The hell you say!” Grandpa teased. “Do you think Wizard von Stroheim has given me a hall pass to float up to our neighbor’s rooftop each morning? Ha—like hell he has!”

  “Grandpa, you’re the exception—the only exception allowed!” rebuked Alisia, soft enough to be considered respectful. “You know this is true—and if you get Bas in trouble, Grandma will likely sentence you to the barn!”

  “So, you still go up on the roof every day?” I asked, drawing a raised eyebrow from Alisia, since I didn’t hide my impressed tone. “That’s really cool.”

  “Bas!”

  “Well, it is, Ali,” I said, unable to mask a smirk that could’ve been full laughter had I allowed it to mature. “But, don’t worry... I’m in no hurry to go back to jail.”

  They both eyed me warily, and in that instant, I realized my mental and emotional states were still being closely monitored by my loving family.

  “And, no, I’m not going to jump off a bridge any time soon,” I said, taking a seat at the kitchen table. “No razor blades to the wrists. No incantations to induce permanent sleep... and no alchemist potions, no fervent entreaties to God or the Devil to take me from this cruel world.... Have I covered everything?”

  “Like any of that would do anything but give you bruises for a moment and some serious heartburn!” My sister eyed me sternly, but her own smirk belied her glare. “Just eat your breakfast, Buster, and then we’ll get our Covid masks and umbrellas and be on our way.”

  She shot Grandpa an annoyed look as he brought a plate of eggs and bacon to me, and even a chilled glass of milk. Obviously, the fact that all of this was ready within a couple of minutes—the time it normally takes to heat a skillet—pointed to a bit of magic. I almost posed a question about whether this is also exclusively ‘allowed’ for our aging patriarch. But then I remembered Grandma, Adrian, and even my dear sis had employed moments of supernatural ‘aid’ since my return home three days ago.

  So, stretching the boundaries of magical limitation became an immediate pet project that very moment. My heart felt lifted, inspiring a slight smile.

  “Don’t count on it, big brother,” Alisia chided, chuckling.

  “You mind staying out of my head?” I shot back. “Or, if you can’t help yourself, would you mind keeping it a secret and let me enjoy my fantasies?”

  “What fantasies?” asked Grandpa.

  “Nothing! Bas is just wondering how far we can go with magic,” she replied. “See what making fun of the rules has done? Now, I’ll have to keep a closer eye on him and I’d really rather not!”

  “Hey, it’s okay, Ali,” I said, reaching across the table to place my hand over hers. “I won’t do anything to put any of us in harm’s wa
y. I promise.” I added a sincere smile.

  She eyed me thoughtfully, and Grandpa added an approving nod.

  “We’ll see... it won’t be as easy to stay in line as you think,” she said. “Do you have your mask?”

  “Yes.”

  I produced it from my jeans pocket. She pulled her mask from a small purse she had on the table. Hers was red with tiny pink hearts along the edges. I put mine on.

  “Hey, you don’t need to wear it yet, silly.” She stood and I joined her.

  “Why not? We could be sort of like Batman and Robin, don’t you think? But with covered mouths and noses instead of sheltered eyes.”

  “You’ve certainly got jokes today, eh? Maybe I should bop you on the head with your umbrella!”

  “What umbrella?”

  “That one!”

  She pointed above my head, where a small black Davek that matched my mask hovered. On cue, the umbrella hit me on the head before I snatched it out of the air, nearly knocking my prized Ray-Bans to the floor in the process.

  Of course, Alisia found this hilarious, as did Grandpa. I reached for my dishes while scheming playful revenge, but Grandpa beat me to them.

  “I’ll clean this up,” he said, taking the plates and my empty glass to the sink. “You two should get going so you can be first in line.”

  “Like when we were kids?” I asked, jokingly.

  “We still are... in witch and warlock terms,” said Alisia. “We’re just babies compared to all the other witches and warlocks in our family.”

  “Speak for yourself,” I countered, wishing I hadn’t shaved after all, since without any facial hair, I could still pass for a senior in high school. “Unlike you, nobody has to sneak me a beer or chaperone me in a liquor store.”

  “Oh, that’s low.” She frowned. “Even for you, Bas. For that, I do foresee another head-bopping—this time from my umbrella!”

  “Wha—oww!”

  Sure enough, a small red umbrella that matched my black one launched an attack seemingly out of nowhere.

  “Maybe I should report you to Wizard Stroheim, eh? It’s pretty obvious, Ali, that you didn’t just have these Daveks stashed in your dresser upstairs.”