by Aiden James
“True,” said Adrian, while Alisia frowned, shaking her head. “But, from what I pick up about Rhianna, she’d be a pleasant surprise for you, Bas. What have you got to lose by meeting her?”
Nothing, really. Or, nothing I could honestly put forth in protest. Obviously, a concerted effort had been employed to bring my fantasy of somehow being reunited with Daciana to a screeching halt. How could anyone fight that kind of unified resistance? Especially, when considering how widespread the aversion to a relationship between Daciana and me had become?
“So, you’ll meet her?” Alisia eyed me with an imploring gaze that had worked ever since she was old enough to walk.
I drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. “Yeah... I’ll do it.”
“Excellent!” Adrian enthused. “You won’t regret it, Sebastian. Ali says Rhiana is coming to the Oktoberfest celebration this weekend. Correct?”
“She wanted to come to the dance, and now she’ll come for certain!” Alisia confirmed, as they both rose from the table. She handed Lucian to me, and the dog turned his attention to my breakfast. “Ah, no, no, Lucian... chocolate very, very bad for doggies!”
Glad she said something, since I was about to offer him a bite. Then again, I have my suspicions that my Pop Tarts are chocolate in name only.
“I’ll give you the details about Saturday tomorrow, Bas—gotta go!”
And, just like that, she and my uncle were out the door, leaving me to listen to Julien’s latest wand ‘miss’ upstairs, while Grandpa and Dad playfully chided him to carefully take aim again.
If only it would be that easy for me to recalibrate my heart and soul. Left with no other choice, I had to try... even if it felt like something deep inside me was dying.
Chapter Fourteen
After such a heavy dose of cold reality had been served up with my breakfast, I felt the urge to escape from Twin Magnolias.
For that matter, why stop there? How about fleeing Denmark, the entire state of Tennessee—hell, the entire USA? Maybe I could find a deserted island somewhere—even if that meant it wouldn’t be a whole lot different than my austere accommodations in Bajenie had been.
But, since every excursion beyond the neighborhood required a constable’s prior approval, I settled for barricading myself inside my bedroom for the morning. Only Lucian was allowed to join me, and I could tell that Grandpa was a little disappointed I declined to accompany him in helping Harrison Crawford set up the last alley we visited on Sunday for his latest artistic creations. Dad and Julien also unsuccessfully tried to get me to join the effort as well.
“We could use a fourth set of hands, Bas,” entreated Dad, as a final push.
“Maybe if you guys are still at it this afternoon, I can help you then,” I said. “But, after talking to Uncle Adrian and Ali, I need a little time alone to process a few things.”
“I understand, son... it’s going to be all right.” He offered a reassuring smile and a pat on the shoulder. “I’ll call your cell phone this afternoon and check on you then. Okay?”
“Sure. Thanks Dad.”
I forced a smile and he nodded before joining Grandpa and Julien in the foyer. I waited for our security system’s ‘exit’ response before returning to my bedroom.
Our rambunctious puppy made it hard for me to chill on my bed, and I let him attack me for a while—laughing at his attempts to sound angry when we played tug-of-war with the edge of one of my blankets. Admittedly, it was an enjoyable distraction, since depending on his mood, Lucian is either a little Ewok or Gremlin when he gets riled up.
We played like this for nearly an hour, until the little guy was finally exhausted. I thought about taking a nap, but remembering I had already overslept told me to fight it, since I could otherwise be facing deeper depression on the horizon if I wasn’t careful.
While considering this thought, and doing my damnedest to not think about Daciana, I was startled by something rustling from within my closet. My first thought was a rodent of some kind had made it into this grand old house.... But then the disturbance became a steady tap of wood upon wood, like a broom handle knocking against the closest door from inside.
Oh, shit—it’s my broomstick!
Before I made it off the bed to investigate, the closet door swung open and the other Lucian—namely my cherished broomstick—flew toward me. I snatched ‘him’ out of the air, and it might sound utterly corny—and definitely surreal—but the “Lucian” I’ve known for nearly my entire lifetime pressed himself against my chest.
Not sure if I mentioned before that broomsticks and wands are in truth sentient creatures, but they are. They might not bark like a dog or purr like a kitten, but they can communicate. Subtly, I might add. ‘Lucian the Broomstick’ trembled with energy, and as I sought to comfort him with loving strokes, the trembling eased up.
“It’s good to see you, old friend!” I enthused, while continuing to coddle my broomstick. “I’m so sorry I didn’t acknowledge your presence before now.”
I meant it, and yeah, if anyone reading this journal is tempted to exit at this point, I wouldn’t blame them. Hopefully, they’ll remember my near-death experience in my previous journal, when it took a few tries to summon my wand to defend myself against Serghei Matei in the downtown square. At the time, I had carelessly left the wand on the ice cream counter inside Tuttle’s. Did anyone pick up that I worried I had offended the little sucker? Yeah, very weird... but all of us warlocks and witches take it all for granted, since the symbiotic relationship we have with wands, and especially broomsticks, has been documented for at least the past five thousand years. Likely longer....
Lucian the Broomstick suddenly stopped moving altogether, and the top, or head, of my ancient buddy leaned toward the other Lucian gazing up from my side. “Lucian the Dog” tentatively wagged his tail and offered a friendly bark. That is, until my broomstick suddenly vibrated violently. Not sure if there’s any jealousy going on here, or not, but Alisia’s pup lowered his ears and cowered away from the broomstick.
I couldn’t help chuckling, and picked up the dog who clambered up my arm and partially wrapped himself around my neck, eyeing the broomstick suspiciously. In response, I could almost feel my broomstick plotting to deliver an even bigger ‘scare.’
It suddenly flew out of my arms, hovering just below the small chandelier above my bed. The broomstick began to vibrate again, and this time a purplish halo emanated from it. The air began to crackle, and an instant later, a glowing wormhole opened up behind it.
“What? You’re ready to take a trip somewhere?”
The shimmering halo around my broomstick grew brighter.
“Umm, apparently you missed the memo that my ass is still pretty much restricted to the house and neighborhood,” I continued. “Unless you’re interested in ‘worm-holing’ to the barn, Lucian.”
The halo grew dark, and perhaps anyone could tell this was a rebuke.
“Sorry, but that’s life.”
I doubt it came from my broomstick, the dog, or anyone else in my close circle of family and friends, but I suddenly pictured my favorite hillside behind the Denmark Winery. The place where I drew the most solace from the time my family moved to Denmark up to my incarceration. Sadly, I hadn’t really considered visiting this personal ‘sacred place’ again due to the location being one I’d need permission to visit, since the site marked the southern border of Denmark’s city limits. Not to mention, it was sure to inspire some pain from my previous encounters with Daciana, when she boldly sought me out in my private oasis.
“We can’t visit the winery, Lucian—it’s off limits.”
Suddenly, my broomstick began to spin like a horizontal weather vane out of control, and the wormhole behind it glowed like a brilliant sunrise.
Despite what logic was telling my head, I felt a powerful urge to go to the winery hillside. Go there immediately!
Still, I resisted... until to my amazement, a message appeared within the wormhole’s opening. A
summons glowed brightly in fiery letters.
Come, Sebastian.... Come now!
I might’ve continued to resist, until I realized the ‘script’ used to create the ethereal message matched the penmanship employed in the two disintegrating letters sent to me the past week.
Was Wizard Gabon reaching out to me? And, would I find another note stashed somewhere inside the wormhole—or perhaps among the trees covering the hillside I mentioned?
Maddening questions, amid a trove of others that began to flood my mind... along with images of severe punishment to come my way for violating the local rules for traveling anywhere without prior approval. Worse, my using a broomstick and navigating a wormhole could be viewed much the same way a shoplifter is treated in mortal society, when the perp also carjacks a vehicle to make a getaway. A misdemeanor elevated to a felony by virtue of one terrible choice compounded by far more flagrant sins.
Maybe I would return to Bajenie—only this time, my sentence would be much longer. Instead of a year’s imprisonment, perhaps the next sentence wouldn’t end until long after all of the mortals I know now—including a cute young Rhiana Johnson on the horizon—had long left this world.
The ethereal message began to shake, as if ready to explode. Perhaps it would detonate and then disintegrate in the next minute, followed by the wormhole disappearing and my broomstick returning to a docile state in its wake. That’s what I pictured in my head... along with the loss of ever knowing what this was all about.
“I can ill afford to lose my freedom,” I whispered to no one in particular. “But, more so, I can’t afford to go through a pained existence not knowing if there was something I could do to change my fate. Especially, if the answer lies at the end of this wormhole.”
The only choice that made sense to my heart and soul loomed before me. Without waiting to see if the volatile letters shattered and then crumbled into ashes inside my bedroom, I leapt into the wormhole, grabbing my broomstick just as the ethereal opening began to close behind me.
The journey to wherever the wormhole would lead can best be described as a ride with steeper dives and climbs than any rollercoaster on Earth—even when a journey is short. Normally, by holding a broomstick in a horizontal position against one’s chest, with the bristles facing out from the right, it tends to make the experience thrilling but easily controllable for any experienced warlock or witch.
Not so for me this time.
By already falling down the first chasm with my broomstick gripped behind my head, I ended up somersaulting most of the way. I nearly lost my tenuous grip on Lucian several times, praying I wouldn’t crash through the wispy sides of the wormhole—a fate long believed to cast a traveler into some other dimension, likely forever.
When all I had to grip the broomstick with was the edge of my fingertips, I prayed frantically for protection from any deity or angel close enough to respond. Admittedly, I also screamed. Not proud of that fact, but I bet most anyone would’ve responded similarly. Granted, it probably wouldn’t include Adrian or any other wizard... but I pictured Serghei Matei shrieking even more shrilly than I did.
That mental image brought a smidgen of solace... and then I fell out of the wormhole, crash landing upon the hillside I had hoped to reach. It looked different than I recalled previously... until I realized the deep green foliage was now largely a rich array of orange, yellow, and purple leaves.
When I stopped rolling, I dusted myself off and reclaimed my broomstick from nearby. I found myself just a mere foot or two from my favorite spot on the hill. I sat down with my broomstick cradled in my lap. Lucian was still shuddering from our traumatic five-mile trek from Twin Magnolias, which took all of fifteen to twenty seconds tops.
“There, there, boy... we made it!” I whispered lovingly while allowing my gaze to scan my surroundings.
Immersed in such a gorgeous autumn experience that was here a few weeks earlier than I would’ve expected—and further along than the rest of Denmark, with leaves fluttering softly to a multicolored carpet around me—I faced the rear of the winery’s sprawling splendor.
Beautiful any time of year!
Honestly, observing the Mediterranean-styled buildings, the acres of a wide variety of grape species (dormant now), and an adjacent orchard containing several kinds of fruit trees—also with leaves responding to fall’s arrival—lifted my spirit. All of it, situated amongst a cluster of brilliantly colored hillsides similar to the one I occupied, was truly breathtaking.
Taking it all in reminded me in an instant of just how much I loved this place... even more so in my favorite time of year. I chuckled at the thought that my ‘post-summer’ preference is kind of what most mortals would picture for a warlock, or witch.
I had missed being here more than I realized, and I whispered a ‘thank you’ to both Lucian and whomever was also involved in bringing me to my forgotten refuge. My broomstick responded with a gentle vibration, and I was glad it had already recovered from our rough journey to reach this place. Still, I was a bit disappointed that no one else responded. No floating glowing note or other sign to tell me what was coming next. Just the quiet and peaceful ambience of my sanctuary... which I soon accepted as good enough.
But the question as to why I was summoned here dug at my psyche—especially if harsh punishment awaited me upon my return home. The questions fed a burgeoning sense of foreboding that began to needle my mind.
A cool breeze rustled the trees behind me, and I craned my head to briefly check it out. Dressed in a t-shirt and jeans—and shoeless—I wished I had been dressed more appropriately for the brisk chill in the air. Suddenly, the wind’s cool tendrils that reached me changed to tropical warmth.
The effect raised the gooseflesh on my arms and neck.
“Sebastian... can you hear me?”
The voice was subtle, pulled to and fro by the breeze that seemed to circle where I sat.
Daciana!
“Is it... you?” I asked tentatively. “Daciana?”
“Yes... yes, it is me. Daciana.... The spell binding me is strong, but not strong enough. And, no, it is not a cruel trick.”
The voice sounded like her... definitely similar to what I experienced in my dream the other night. Also, the voice’s comment about a ‘cruel trick’ was verbatim what I had just wondered in my head. Hell, who wouldn’t worry that this was all some mean-spirited hoax? Especially, when considering that Sorin Gabon had fooled my family and the Mateis into thinking he had been a wretched warlock murdered by my grandmother. It was either the mother of all ruses, or a prominent member of that same family.
“I can understand why you’d think so,” she said, again commenting on my thoughts. For some reason, it didn’t irritate me the way it does when the psychics in my family pillage my thoughts. “Just remember he is on our side.”
Huh?
“Sorin Gabon?” I asked.
“Yes, him,” she replied, and her tone took on the brightness of hope. “Wizard Gabon more than approves. He is behind everything that has happened to bring us together, Bas.”
Okay, that revelation took me aback.
“Are you saying he was behind your family following mine to Denmark?” I hated the disbelief in my voice, but I was having a hard time picturing a wizardry hand in bringing us together. Then again, our relationship thus far had been sort of like other famed star-crossed lovers destined to piss off their families. Romeo and Juliet came foremost to mind.
She chuckled, and the warmth around me intensified. I picked up the scent of lavender, recalling this was a fragrance Daciana favored during our short-lived romance before we were forced apart.
“Yes, my love. And, Sorin has been working to remedy the feud he exacerbated before our births—which was also done on purpose with our future union in mind.”
“But none of this makes any sense,” I whispered in further disbelief. “I mean, I love you, Daciana—hopelessly so, and with every fiber of my being. But I am having trouble picturing why Sorin
Gabon would be a willing and knowing participant in an event that’s caused lasting sorrow and torment, splitting our families apart.... And, now he’s eager to bring us together while hoping to heal the massive rift between our families? It seems absurd. Unless....”
Like with most perplexing situations, talking through them often brings an answer. All at once, I could picture the elusive reason that had haunted my parents, grandparents, and uncles for the better part of a century before they simply accepted it as no longer important to fret over.
“Yes, Bas, you are beginning to see the truth of it all.... Wizard Gabon told me that for lasting peace to come to all of the Radus and Mateis scattered throughout the world, the last remaining clans that got along had to be ‘torn asunder’ first. Like re-breaking an arm or leg that didn’t heal right on its own, in order to reset it to properly heal. That’s the way he put it.”
“You’ve spoken to him?”
This conversation was getting stranger by the minute, and I suddenly worried I hadn’t protected myself from anyone who might care to listen in, be it the psychic members in my family or our constable brigade.
“Yes, he and I have spoken several times during the past few years, and twice this past week. You shouldn’t worry, Bas. You are protected from anyone being aware of our conversation, as I am at this moment. But I won’t be able to speak for much longer.” Her voice took on an air of sorrow, and I felt the urge to take her in my arms and comfort her—had she been physically present on the hillside. “For now, just know that you and I are supposed to be together. Always! Our souls know it, and we have a powerful ally working tirelessly to make it happen.... I love you, Sebastian, with all of my heart and soul! Please, don’t give up on me. I will find a way to break this spell! I will....”
Suddenly, the warmth receded and the breeze died away. I could almost feel it retreating into the deeper woods behind me—the unspoiled forest that stretched for miles to Herschel County’s western border. I stood and turned toward the colorful sea before me... hoping for some last vestige I could cling to.