by Aiden James
Everyone seemed at peace, and the interrogation I expected to take place once Sadee left at dinner time never happened.
Strange, although not quite weird enough to rank as high as a ‘Horseshit Harry’ kind of event. Speaking of him, I had yet to see our friendly neighborhood jackass or his family out and about since my return from Purgatory. I wondered if they were sick from the pandemic or on vacation somewhere, although I couldn’t picture the Turner family taking Covid-19 seriously.
But back to the present.
Admittedly, I purposely avoided thinking about the note’s contents that I had already committed to memory. Maybe it was a key thing? And, since Grandpa is a master of coming across as nonchalant as anyone I’ve ever known, his reply to Grandma about ‘nothing fruitful as we had hoped’ to her question about our ‘ring hunt’ seemed to suffice... for now.
Things remained that way throughout Sunday night and Monday, as well. In fact, the only suspicious look I received either day was for Alisia’s announcement that the walnut piles next to the barn looked great. Thankfully, Grandpa cheerfully volunteered that he helped me get it all done Sunday morning, after our empty-handed ring pursuit had ended.
Mom and Grandma still seemed none the wiser about the latest note event, and even Adrian appeared to be just as unaware when he stopped by to visit with Dad shortly after dinner Monday evening. And, most impressively, none of our constable warlocks, witch, or wizard had paid us a visit.
Since we planned to take a ‘pre-approved’ drive to the Shiloh National Military Park in the morning, I curbed my video game urges just after eleven that night. My goal was to be sound asleep by midnight, knowing that despite Dad’s plans to leave at eight o’clock sharp in the morning, Mad Max would surely rouse me at the crack of dawn.
*****
Not sure what woke me.
Likely, it was the small mockingbird perched on my bedroom window ledge—a very odd sight, I might add. Especially given the fact the digital readout on my alarm clock gave the time as just after 3:00 a.m.—at least two hours before the early autumn sky would begin to lighten. Not to mention, my limited understanding of this particular bird species’ behavior was that mockingbirds sang for a mate—and wouldn’t be seeking to entertain a zoned-out human lying in his bed.
I sat up, noticing a slight chill in the room, and soon realized the window where my Aves little friend called to me had been pulled up a tad.
I got up to investigate, and the little guy—or gal—remained on the windowsill, eyeing me curiously until I touched the window’s frame to close the window. My visitor darted off toward the streetlight at the corner of Old Dominion and Chaffin’s Bend.
This is really strange... I know the window was shut when I turned the lights off. But, maybe it wasn’t?
That was my first thought... my second was about the vivid dream the bird’s song had pulled me from.
Daciana visited me!
She was present—in this very room—in my dream. Of course, that wasn’t possible; and the dream’s setting was daytime—not the middle of the night. But still... the bird, the window pulled up, and how Daciana’s presence felt so real were factors difficult to pass off as coincidental.
A feeling of incredible sadness washed over me—totally the opposite of the intense joy I had felt just moments ago when I embraced her ‘dream presence’.
A cruel trick of the mind... or some other cruelty, perhaps? That is, if it wasn’t the hash and baked beans at dinner that had inspired this event.
Daciana appeared a bit different from when I had last seen her, attired in a conservative blue dress and her long dark hair pulled up in a matronly bun. She even seemed self-conscious about it... as if this was an accurate picture of her life under the thumb of her European guardians. This especially affected me, and I realized perhaps it hasn’t been the resort vacation I had pictured in my mind for a Ninnius ‘royal heir’ bride-to-be.
She looked around my bedroom, as if unfamiliar with it, and then sat down on the edge of my bed. At the moment, I stood near the very same window where my mockingbird visitor had serenaded me. Sunlight streamed through the window that was shut tight, as it normally is.
“Don’t give up on me, Sebastian!” she said, her lips trembling. A single tear streamed down the left side of her face. “Hold on, please! I’m trying to find my way back to Denmark… back to you!”
“But, you’re getting married this weekend,” I replied. “How can something ordained by one of the most powerful wizards in the entire world be stopped?”
Not sure why I put the blame for this at the feet of Wizard Ninnius, but it made sense as the words left my mouth. I guess my subconscious knew the truth—as is often the case for human beings as we sleep.
“I know... and my parents—my entire family throughout the world—wants this marriage to go through.” Her gaze fell to her feet as she shook her head despondently. But then she looked up at me, with her emerald eyes ablaze. “But I could never learn to love Magnus. He’s a kind and decent man, Sebastian. But... he isn’t you. My heart belongs to you, Bas—just you!”
What was left of the flimsy shield I had placed around my own heart—along with all of the futile mental exercises I had employed to help me move on from her—fell away. Fell away much like the disintegrating ashes from the two mysterious notes I had received since the past Thursday night.
“Well... what can we do?” I replied, moving toward her. “As of Saturday afternoon, Bucharest time, it will be too late.”
She stood and moved toward me, and as she did, the powerful attraction between us seemed to ignite. Even the air around us crackled softly with energy, and a slight purple glow from our auras meshing together surrounded us.
“I won’t let it happen!” she said, defiantly. “I won’t—”
She began to weep, and I took her in my arms.
Overwhelmed by the love burgeoning forth from my fragile heart, and the physical arousal that brought me back to the last time we embraced—right before my ass was thrown into the EEC’s slammer—I thought I might die, or at least faint from the exhilaration.... Only this time, when our lips met, the kiss was far more powerful. Weird to say this, but it felt like our souls merged, if ever so briefly. My entire being was seized by a sense of ecstasy I had only been given a slight taste of in the woods behind the art school that borders our property, in July 2019.
Yeah, I really liked this 2020 version so much better... until the steady chirp-tweet from my mockingbird visitor suddenly pulled me out of this heavenly moment.
Pulled out painfully, I might add.
After locking the window, I returned to bed, sliding under the covers and pulling them up to my neck to combat the chill that had taken over my bedroom—no thanks to my little buddy who had flown off to merrily continue his, or her, concert from the nearby powerlines. Meanwhile, I stared at the ceiling, giving in to the urge to hang onto the freaky-cool feeling I had experienced in my dream. An event that surely was no more real than any other nighttime fantasy I’d experienced in my century-plus lifetime.
Despite the re-emergence of the pain I had successfully buried since last week, I couldn’t help replaying what happened during the dream in my head. All the while, I prayed to fall asleep and resume the experience—and hopefully end it on a less-maddening note.
But just as I finally began to nod off again, that damned rooster wasn’t having it.
After Mad Max finished his daily chest-thumping screech, I laid in bed while trying to clear my mind of the images that would certainly handicap my mood for the next day at minimum. Finally, as the early vestiges of sunlight seeped into my bedroom, I got up. Resolved to behave like a normal human being, I avoided the temptation to use any spells in getting ready for the day—despite my lingering tiredness.
Before I stepped onto the upstairs landing, I heard my sister’s laughter echoing from downstairs, along with Harris’s hearty chuckles. Must’ve been a funny quip from Grandpa or the dry humor Dad is
known for. Sometimes Mom and Grandma are pretty hilarious, too, so maybe it was something they said.... Then I heard Adrian’s boisterous voice erupt from the kitchen, along with the babbling of a pair of toddlers.
Great... everyone’s here already. Time to put on a happy face!
I strode downstairs with the collar of my biker jacket turned up and with my shades on, hoping to distract prying psychic fingers from detecting my unsettled spirit, as well as my slight exhaustion from missing out on my usual six hours of sleep. I confess to adding a subtle spell to erase my eyes’ slight redness, in the event my ‘cool rocker’ ensemble didn’t get past my father’s usual request for me to not wear sunglasses inside the house. Something about respect he had picked up during the zoot-suit era, which became a perpetual tug-of-war that gained steam during the 1950s on through the present.
“Good morning, Bas.” Alisia greeted me first, followed by quieter salutations and nods from everyone else. Catriona smiled warmly while Adrian’s and her adorable twins, Tamaron and Keileen, eyed me shyly. Even the Mays were here, which inspired a glance at the kitchen wall clock. 6:55 a.m.... they’re here earlier than expected. Must be wanting to get this show on the road, pronto. “Rough night?” She grinned knowingly.
I could tell from her look that it was too late to hide the contents of my dream from her. Likely ditto for everything else that followed Daciana’s diaphanous visit.
“Pretty much... I don’t suppose y’all would overlook my convertin’ the Turner’s prized rooster into a bullfrog?” I added a playful grin to go with my exaggerated southern accent. “That sucker’s ruinin’ my beauty sleep!”
“And destroy the peaceful coexistence our neighborhood presently enjoys with Horseshit Harry?” Adrian laughed, echoed by chuckles from Dad, Grandpa, and Julien. “He’d probably accuse us of ‘retributive jealousy’ due to the Mateis buying him the nice new Dodge truck parked in the driveway.”
“The Mateis bought that red truck for him?” I was genuinely dumbstruck. “Isn’t something like that seen as inappropriate?”
“What, like a bribe?” asked Grandpa.
“Well, yeah,” I said.
“Depends on the type of bribe, as it’s rumored that Serghei Matei bought the Dodge for him against his family’s wishes,” Julien advised. “Meredith saw a kid hanging around the Turner house just the other day, who looked an awful lot like the guy I heard you bested this past Saturday, Sebastian.”
He sounded impressed, adding a proud wink.
“Really? Are you sure it was Serghei?” Dad directed his question to Meredith, who nodded.
“It was the same blonde kid pointed out to me this past summer by Sil,” she replied. “Definitely him. Maybe Serghei feels he can break the neighborhood rules since he bought Harry the truck. Sort of like a warped ‘quid pro quo.’”
“Could be.” Adrian frowned.
“I’m confused,” I interjected, while feeling hopeful I might not have to discuss my dream of Daciana after all. “I thought the Mateis had to stay on their side of town, and we have our own space. That’s not true?”
“Being separated is how it’s supposed to work,” said Mom. “But the Mateis have always gotten away with things we Radus get punished for.... Do you want me to fix you a light breakfast, son? The rest of us enjoyed a delicious coffee cake Meredith prepared. There might still be a piece left, if you’d like to have it. But be careful to not ruin your appetite, since we plan to stop at one of the restaurants near Shiloh for brunch a few hours from now.”
“Nah, I’ll just do my usual thing.”
“What, Pop Tarts and a glass of milk?” Grandma shook her head. “It’s why you can’t gain any weight to speak of, Bas.”
“They’re fortified with vitamins, Grandma, and healthier than Alisia’s ‘Lucky Charms,’” I replied, before moving to the pantry and fridge to collect my breakfast. “So, when are we leaving for Shiloh?”
“As soon as you finish eating, sport,” said Julien. “You’re riding with us, along with your folks. Everyone else will be in the Escalade.”
“And, while you eat, you can tell us about your dream.” Alisia shot a wicked glance to Adrian.
“What dream?”
I hoped my perplexed expression and nonchalant tone were a perfect match. Unfortunately, I could tell immediately it wasn’t going over like one of Grandpa’s smooth brush-offs.
“Don’t be shy, nephew,” Adrian chided. “Everyone here—except for my babies—are well aware of what’s at stake this week. And while a dream about Daciana could be seen as part of the natural healing process in store for you, an astral visitation initiated from Europe is not. You think you’re tired, Sebastian? Try having a very worried Arthur and Matilda Albright banging on your door at three-thirty in the morning!”
Ah, holy hell!
“Okay, so I had a dream about Daciana... a nightmare, really.” In some ways, describing it that way was kind of true, since I am now destined to be haunted by thoughts of her all over again. “Thankfully, it didn’t last long.... So what makes you think it was an astral visitation? Are you saying Daciana initiated it?”
If my uncle, sis, and the rest of the psychics in my clan were on top of this, as they’ve indicated previously, then Adrian’s answer could become a bomb that blew up on all of them. Say she didn’t initiate it, and it was some prankster akin to the computer hackers throughout the world? Then the resolution would likely be for me to stay wary of another attack. Nothing all that radical, and merely me dealing with renewed pain in having to relive my loss of Daciana in my world.
However, if the visitation was actually something she initiated on her own? Well, obviously, it would portend something entirely different, and we’d have a brand-new ballgame.
It would mean she misses me just as much as I miss her, with her desperately trying to reconnect!
“In all likelihood, the contact was initiated by Daciana,” Mom advised, obviously in tune with the questions bursting in my head like heated popcorn. “That’s the EEC’s belief, too, according to what Adrian shared with us at daybreak and confirmed by Matilda Albright twenty minutes ago.”
“She came here? With Arthur, I assume?”
“Yes, son, you just missed them when you came downstairs,” said Dad.
“But you said ‘in all likelihood’, Mom. Does that mean it could’ve come from someone else?”
An honest question, really—although at the moment, I was simply trying to draw parameters of possibility.
“Such as Sorin Gabon?”
Everyone turned their attention to Grandpa.
“Hey, his name has come up a lot recently, and Wizard von Stroheim advised for Sebastian to be on the lookout for contact from this wizard when Bas and Ali met with Attila on Saturday,” he said, offering a shrug when Grandma shook her head disdainfully. “You and Silvia said so yourselves, after discussing it with Alisia Saturday afternoon.”
“It’s still ‘Warlock Gabon’, Georghe!”
“Whatever you say, dear.” He laughed softly for a moment.
Meanwhile, I filled my head with my menagerie buddies to keep from worrying he might inadvertently get us into trouble for what actually happened in the downtown square Sunday morning.
“It doesn’t matter, you two,” said Mom. “The key thing is for Bas to not respond to Daciana if this happens again. And, son, you must immediately tell us if she does visit you anytime this week. This wedding absolutely must go off without a hitch—sorry son.”
“Your mother is correct,” added Adrian. “The instructions sent by the EEC carried an urgent warning for you, Bas. It is imperative that you reject any entreaties from Daciana—and as Sil just emphasized, you must also immediately tell us about it. We already know she was here, and made contact. You can confirm this... yes?”
Odd that he would put it this way, and while I was tempted to share the less personal details, a thought suddenly interrupted the newly created ‘menagerie merry-go-round’ twirling in my head: What
if Adrian is being blocked from replaying my dream?
Hell, what if they all were? What if they merely knew I had a dream and not much else beyond Daciana’s initiating the experience?
“It was a nightmare,” I offered again. “All I readily recall is she seemed unhappy... and then I was awakened to find a mockingbird serenading me from my bedroom window’s ledge. The window was slightly open, too.”
There. A bit of honesty delivered with a disproportional amount of omission. Kind of fitting, given the current election nonsense going on this fall.
Normally, this is where Alisia, Mom, or Grandma—and especially Adrian—would call me on my bullshit. And, we had a fifth psychic present in Meredith Mays, who was just as formidable in this department as any of the others.
But no one said anything—other than Grandma grumbling that a mockingbird serenading through an open window sounded like something along the lines of a ‘spirit familiar’ delivering a message. Everyone nodded thoughtfully, but said nothing. Instead, they studied me intently.
I could tell from most facial expressions that my family and friends sensed I was hiding something. But for the moment, all of them were prevented from detecting what it was. Could this be tied somehow to my family’s inability to detect what took place with Wizard von Stroheim this past Saturday? As well as Grandpa’s and my note experience on Sunday?
More importantly, was it all due to a certain ancient wizard’s sudden interest in me?
Thankfully, Julien pointed to the clock, where somehow a half hour had disappeared. Everyone grabbed their coats, umbrellas, and facial masks since Meredith advised the National Military Park required both ‘masks and social distancing.’ Surely, the restaurant Mom had mentioned would appreciate the same precautionary courtesies as well.
Before my folks and I boarded Julien and Meredith’s Land Rover, Alisia accosted me.
“Don’t think you’re getting away with this, buster!” she whispered pointedly. “Yeah, you’ve managed to put a fog in your head that we’re having trouble seeing beyond, but it won’t last. I will figure out what you’re hiding in there, Bas. Count on it!”