Witch out of Water

by Aiden James

  But there was nothing.

  Alone again, naturally. Yet another painful pun on a dated pop song.

  I again worried about what fate had in store for me in my immediate future. To be quite candid, I feared a visit to Twin Magnolias by our constables upon my return. Maybe a brutal tag team between Wizard von Stroheim and the Albrights—spurred on by a disappointed audience consisting of every member of my immediate family.

  Just before they cart your dumb ass back to jail, Bas my boy!

  Preparing to open another wormhole with Lucian’s assistance, I paused to take in the gorgeous view one last time.

  “What in the hell?” I muttered, upon catching a glimpse of something glistening at the base of a large hackberry tree less than a dozen feet away.

  I cautiously approached and was only slightly surprised that it was yet another note. Upon bending down to pick it up, the sealed note began to glow within my grasp. As was the case this past Sunday, this one came in another envelope. However, unlike the previous note, this one’s envelope carried a crimson waxed seal.

  A seal with an unusual symbol....

  Damn, is that a wolf’s head? A fox, maybe?

  Perhaps the instrument used to create it was none other than one side of the mysterious ring that Grandpa had searched tirelessly for, and an object I had become just as desperate to find.

  I broke the seal which seemed to enhance the glow, turning it from soft gold to bright orange. I hurriedly removed the letter....

  Greetings once again, young Sebastian!

  You are again one step closer to obtaining your soul’s desire, and also on the verge of understanding the truth about you, your family, and your enemies.

  Your independence is nigh... along with lasting happiness!

  A little different from the prior messages, this one felt a bit like a riddle of sorts. But rather than try to decipher any hidden meanings, I raced to commit the words to memory, knowing it would soon dissolve before my eyes.

  The very moment I successfully verified the message in full inside my head, the letter and envelope—including the wax seal—burned away. All evidence of it quickly disappeared, carried by a fresh breeze into the woods and along the very same path that had absorbed Daciana’s voice and lavender scented presence.

  All that remained was a slight chill in the air. Whether a subtle admonition to leave, or not, I lifted Lucian to my chest and we returned home via a fresh wormhole... one that I navigated easily.

  If only it could be that simple to figure out the rest.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Twin Magnolias remained deserted upon my return.

  I say that, admittedly, from the perspective of dropping softly into my bedroom. I landed just a foot away from our startled pooch, who scooted away with his back hunched like a baby raccoon, so adorable in his distress.

  Mindful to not rekindle any animosity with my broomstick, I gently returned that ‘Lucian’ to the closet before returning to the bed, where I just as gently retrieved Lucian the dog from where he cowered by my pillow.

  “There, there, little buddy... it’s okay. Everything is gonna be all right,” I said, smiling at the irony that I had coddled my broomstick similarly on the hillside. Meanwhile, holding the dog against my shoulder, I defied that spoken confidence by putting my ear to my door to listen for any unannounced visitors that could be lurking outside my bedroom.

  So far so good... or so I hoped.

  In case I wasn’t alone in the house, I decided to shower and dress in fresh clothes. I would’ve preferred to let the faint scent of lavender that had clung to my t-shirt and jeans linger for a while longer. But the superstitious side of me believed I could be pushing my luck in being able to keep what just happened a secret by not removing any and all possible physical traces of my visit to the winery hillside.

  Better safe than sorry, even if it proved to be a fool’s errand in the long run.

  “Ready to go downstairs? Do you need to go outside?” I asked Lucian, upon returning to my bedroom. He sat with his front legs fully extended on the bed, with his ears perked up. Upon the mention of ‘outside’, he jumped to the floor, twirling excitedly. “Okay, let’s do this, little buddy.”

  Relieved that the house was in fact deserted, I took the dog out front to take care of his personal business. While pretending to watch Lucian do his thing, I carefully scanned the Mays’ and Crawford’s homes across the street and anything else I could see by slightly craning my neck to my left along Old Dominion, toward the Deans’ place and the Albrights’ stately Victorian sitting next to it.

  No sign of any activity there... ditto for Horseshit Harry’s bungalow and our other neighbors residing along Chaffin’s Bend to my right.

  So far, an EEC Swat team has yet to descend upon Twin Magnolias. That’s good.

  Still, upon reentering the house with Lucian dancing around my feet, I kept a watchful eye out for any sign, anything really, to indicate trouble was on the way.

  It wasn’t until early afternoon when I gave up the vigil, resigned to wait and see what happens. Of course, replaying what had happened in my head was damned near unavoidable. But the thing that stuck with me most—other than Daciana’s stated undying love for me, and our star-crossed destiny—was the pronouncement that Wizard Gabon could protect what we discussed, as well as my thoughts regarding her words, from being pilfered.

  You shouldn’t worry, Bas. You are protected from anyone being aware of our conversation....

  For that matter, to date, no one seemed the wiser about Sunday’s note from Wizard Gabon, and maybe that would hold true for today’s messages as well.

  But would that reality hold ‘one-hundred-percent’ true for long?

  No doubt, part of that question would soon be answered.

  As promised, Dad called to check on me, stating Harrison had another painting to hang in the new alley, and that he set it aside for me to help him with it sometime tomorrow afternoon.

  “I look forward to doing that—tell him thanks for me, Dad, if you don’t mind,” I said.

  “Sure, son... your grandfather and I will be back home in the next hour or so,” he advised. “You sound more like yourself. Can we pick up a burger or something for you?”

  “No thanks, I’m good.”

  “Okay, see you soon.”

  So, the easy part was taken care of... and I still worried things could deteriorate in a hurry if my hope of Daciana’s advisement about Sorin Gabon’s abilities proved incorrect. Mercifully, it didn’t take much longer to find out.

  Alisia was the first formidable opponent to arrive, as she and Harris beat Dad and Grandpa’s arrival by twenty minutes.

  “Hey, Bas—good to see you, bro!” Harris greeted me, and we both chuckled while doing the ‘chicken wing’ greeting that was becoming a popular replacement for the ‘fist bump’ and traditional handshake in Covid-19 America. “Ali tells me you’ll be joining us and Rhiana this Saturday. That’s cool news, man!”

  “Yeah, she sounds nice.” I smiled, adding a shrug. “Saturday night, right?”

  “Actually, she’s going to join us when things get going around noon,” said Alisia, smiling lovingly... not sure if it was for me, her beau, or us both. “She’s super excited, Bas! You won’t regret this—I promise!”

  She giggled, and I responded with what I hoped was a warm chuckle. Of course, depending upon how early we got started Saturday morning, it would coincide with the truth about what took place across the Atlantic in southeastern Europe. Likely, by the time I was formally introduced to Rhiana, Daciana could be the new Mrs. Magnus Ninnius.

  Unless all hell breaks out in Bucharest, Romania!

  All bets would be off, if instead Daciana found a way by then to become a successful runaway bride....

  “What?” I asked when Alisia eyed me curiously for a moment.

  “It’s nothing,” she said, shaking her head. “Nothing important.... Hey, I bought you something today, Bas!”

  And
, just like that, a gorgeous smile obliterated the clouds gathering in her countenance. At the same time, the sandpaper-dryness behind my own smile began to ease.

  Ali seems a little confused. Could it be true that my mind is a blank slate to my kid sister’s psychic prowess? Holy shit!

  “Really?” I enthused, fed in part by my newfound hope of mental privacy. “What’s the occasion? I thought the Bears’ mug and sweatshirt you gave me last week counted as my ‘welcome home/birthday’ gift?”

  “It did,” Harris piped in, when Alisia didn’t immediately respond. “We just thought you might, um... you might dig some new threads, man. Right, Babe?”

  “Huh?” she looked at him as if not hearing what he just said... very strange, really. I couldn’t recall the last time I had seen her nonplussed about anything, which gave further hope that my head was no longer part of her psychic playground. “Oh, yeah. Now we didn’t wrap anything, since I know how you hate that sort of thing.”

  She produced a large black bag which bore the cursive neon green name of the only men’s boutique in the square, Oliver’s. Inside were a pair of dark slacks, and a dress shirt/light sweater combo. In the bottom of the bag were a pair of argyle socks, black loafers, and a matching belt.

  “I take it my preferred Megadeth sweatshirt, favorite frayed jeans, and cherished ‘shit-kickers’ won’t work for Saturday night’s dance?”

  I laughed, both at the formality and the irony that I kind of pictured Magnus Ninnius dressing like this, when not donning a wizard’s robe. That thought inspired an extra chuckle.

  “No offense, Bas—seriously, bro. Just thought you’d like to show off your GQ good looks in a new way,” said Harris, flashing his own brilliant ‘GQ’ smile.

  Meanwhile, Alisia wore a pained look.

  “Hey, Ali... I’m actually touched by this.” I stepped up and gave her a hug that caught her off guard. Careful, Bas... she might think you’re high on something if you keep it up! “Tell you what... if it’s cool with you two, I’ll wear this all day, Saturday. It’s kind of what you’ll be wearing, right?”

  “You will?” Alisia sounded hopeful as she stepped back, gazing into my face with an unfamiliar mixture of shyness and perplexity. Despite her deep blue eyes boring into mine, this was unlike the sister I’ve known for nearly a century now. No smug smirk that has often followed her successful thefts of secrets from my head.

  “Yes, I’ll gladly do it.” The smile I offered was genuine, since beyond my own unsettled circumstances, the last thing I would ever want is to disappoint my sister and the rest of my family. Although, the possibility of supreme disappointment for them all loomed on the horizon, depending on what happened elsewhere in less than forty-eight hours from now. “You said we’re going to get things started noonish?”

  “Yeah... maybe even as early as ten or eleven that morning,” she advised. “Provided you don’t get into trouble before then!” She grinned... almost like normal. But my gut told me she was hedging a silent bet that she’d eventually find a key to unlock my new mental fortress.

  “How so?”

  The question was largely innocent, as my mind remained a comfortable blank at the moment. Not having to play the menagerie game or other mental diversions, I honestly wasn’t thinking about anything beyond what we were discussing.

  “Not sure... but we’ll talk about it later.” She added a mischievous wink before reaching for her beau’s hand. “In the meantime, we’re off to the bowling alley. Maybe we’ll see you later tonight, or more likely, sometime tomorrow.”

  “Bowling? In a pandemic?” I chuckled.

  “This is still rural America, man!” Harris laughed. “Masks and social distancing make it doable... sort of, anyway.”

  “You should come with us sometime,” Alisia suggested. “Might be a fun double date with you and Rhiana. Think about it, Bas—see you soon!”

  And with that, they were out the door.

  Dad and Grandpa arrived just as they left, and I heard them chat for a moment before Harris and Alisia burst out laughing at something our grandfather said.

  “Hello, Sebastian!” Grandpa greeted me, echoed by Dad. “Harrison will meet with us tomorrow afternoon, around two o’clock, and he has saved his most prized new painting for you to help him hang it.”

  “We’ll be there, too,” added my father. “For moral support and to see your reaction to this latest work of Harrison’s.... I think you’ll be impressed.”

  “If you ask me, dude needs to be celebrated nationally, or even internationally, for that matter,” I said, thinking about the paintings I had seen this past weekend. “Now you’ve got my interest seriously piqued.”

  “Good, that’s the spirit, Bas!” Grandpa enthused. “Onward and upward—always.” He paused to look around, casting a wry glance to my father. “It appears we’ve got the place to ourselves. How about we break out some liquor and share a drink?”

  “Sounds good.” I said.

  “It does, indeed,” Dad agreed, chuckling. “Mom and Sil won’t be back for at least the next two hours... and we haven’t had a chance to ‘shoot the shit,’ as they like to say here in the South. In fact, I can’t recall the three of us sharing a few beers together while talking casually about anything since moving to Denmark.”

  “You mean I don’t have to pretend I’m just a nineteen-year-old kid?” My turn to smile wryly.

  Dad laughed. “Touché, son.”

  Not sure what to expect—other than the fact neither my father nor grandfather would be able to discern my thoughts, even without Wizard Gabon’s assistance. All in all, it was a good time—mostly an airing out of their grievances of the EEC’s stern restrictions that Adrian had apparently told them could worsen even without my help. Interestingly, that revelation didn’t get fully defined until both were approaching the “three sheets to the wind” status they both seemed to be striving for.

  I wondered what other interesting or helpful morsels could spill forth on accident. Especially, when Grandpa broke out a fresh bottle of Jack Daniels “Blue Label” whiskey. For the next half hour, he and Dad took turns pouring shots. As for me, I had opted for the milder “Jack n’ Coke” cocktail I had recently enjoyed from Julien’s bar, and continued to nurse my second glass while watching Dad and Grandpa’s inhibitions steadily melt away. Better them than me, since I tend to be quite the talker when fully inebriated.

  Keeping as tight a zipper as possible upon my lips and sipping a watered-down version of whiskey turned out to be the wiser choice. I expected Mom and Grandma to show up sooner than either Dad or Grandpa did. And, as if my hunch carried prescience, our two ladies strolled in nearly a full hour earlier than Dad’s prediction.

  “Georghe and Gabriel!” Grandma scolded, when she and Mom strolled into the office, where the three of us were gathered around the stately Louis the Fourteenth desk that Grandpa and Dad share. “What kind of example are you two setting for young Sebastian!”

  “Ah, I dunno, Florina,” Grandpa slurred, wearing a drunken grin. “I guess it’s the example of ‘why does a one-hundred-and–thirty-year-old warlock need to be coddled as if he were still a child?’”

  “Oh fiddle-sticks!” she fumed, moving to the kitchen where her purse landed loudly on the kitchen table. I prepared for stronger fireworks from my grandmother, but Mom accosted her before she made it back to the foyer, saying something about not allowing the focus to slip away from ‘what’s going on with Sebastian?’ which had something to do with a task Wizard von Stroheim asked them to look into.

  Well, damn... maybe I’m not ’in the clear’ as much as I’ve assumed!

  “Bas, would you mind stepping into the kitchen for a moment?” Mom called sweetly from just inside the kitchen’s foyer doorway.

  “Sure, I’ll be right there,” I replied, feeling the acute dryness return to my mouth. I stood up, smiling amusedly at Grandpa and Dad as they tried to muster a response when I asked them to wish me luck.

  I casually made my way
to where Mom and Grandma waited—both with folded arms across their chests. A sure sign they had a serious bone to pick with me.

  “Okay.” I expected an immediate pouncing to commence. “What’s up?”

  But instead of a stern lecture, or even a mild upbraiding to match the worry in their expressions, they eyed me much the same way that Alisia had earlier. Without saying a word, they looked at each other... and I can totally assume—empirically, I might add—they were conversing mentally at that very moment.

  “What?” I persisted, while doing my best to look unaware of what this might be pertaining to.

  “So, what Alisia told us on the phone is true,” said Mom, with an affirming nod from Grandma. “Your mind is like your father’s now, but I foresee this isn’t a permanent condition like his.”

  I doubt I’ve mentioned this before, but Dad has the longstanding reputation of having an unreadable mind—something I’m quite envious of, if it’s true. Of course, I have no way to personally verify that fact since I can’t read anyone’s mind. Hell, even my gut instincts are just as liable to get me in trouble as to save my ass.

  Like at that very moment.

  Instead of commenting, I shrugged as if clueless to the point my mother was trying to make.

  “We spoke with Wizard von Stroheim less than an hour ago, Sebastian,” she continued. “He advised us that he and his cousins have been monitoring your actions, whereabouts—and even your thoughts—quite closely since your meeting last Saturday. But, late this morning, things suddenly changed. There was a period of nearly an hour where they couldn’t find you, and, once they did reconnect with your location upstairs, they could no longer read your thoughts.”

  “Care to indulge us with what you’ve been up to, son?” added Grandma.

  Usually, this ‘tag-teaming’ thing that my family enjoys employing has worked like a charm on me—as surely everyone reading this journal, or my previous tome, can attest.

  Not this time.