Witch out of Water

by Aiden James

Perhaps most of you can envision how difficult it was for me to keep a straight face, while behind my confused façade I was clicking my heels, so to speak.

  Even a wizard such as von Stroheim can’t read my thoughts? Seriously? Woo-hoo!

  “I can’t imagine why Wizard von Stroheim lost track of me... and I am honestly shocked that my mind is closed off to any of you,” I said. “After Dad, Grandpa, and Julien left to assist Harrison in hanging his latest paintings, I spent the rest of the morning with Lucian. We had a ball up in my bedroom... didn’t we, little buddy!”

  The dog had been twirling around our legs for the past few minutes, and I bent down to scoop him up. I propped him against my left shoulder, where he turned his head to gaze at my increasingly frustrated mother and grandmother.

  “You spent the entire time upstairs playing with the dog?” Mom eyed me suspiciously.

  “Yes—the entire time it was just me and Lucian,” I said, eyeing them both earnestly. And, in a very real sense this was true, since nearly every moment upstairs—including the wormhole excursion to my cherished winery hillside—was spent with Lucian. Be it the dog or broomstick. “He helped lift my spirits, and then I took a shower and came downstairs. Ali and Harris arrived soon after that.”

  They nodded thoughtfully, with matching furrowed brows that told me they weren’t buying it. At least not completely. But they couldn’t dispute it either.... It made me wonder if Wizard Gabon had also somehow blocked them and Wizard von Stroheim from witnessing anything at all during my absence in the wormhole.

  Like a big blank void smack dab in the middle of a clairvoyant vision... such awesomeness!

  Admittedly, I felt inspired by this new privacy. Revitalized, really, and I now realized just how exhausting it had often been to try and think of something else when my thoughts were in danger of being pilfered. Keep in mind this has been a constant thing for me to deal with since I was a young tike in the 1890s.

  Mom and Grandma excused themselves from my presence after both offered warnings to not align myself with ‘the Devil.’ Odd they would say that, although I fully understood what they meant: Don’t get tangled up with a Wizard whom they still believed was merely an ornery warlock in disguise.

  The fact they were loath to say ‘Sorin Gabon’ spoke to a greater fear they harbored. Likely, this was true with most of my family, and even more so with relatives I had yet to meet from around the globe. As if acknowledging Sorin’s name—and especially his wizard status—might give him more power. A short leap from that conclusion was Sorin’s possible intentions to interfere with Daciana’s marriage—which Daciana had all but proclaimed during our hillside visit. I pictured Mom and Grandma fully believing such a danger loomed on the horizon as they began preparing a meatloaf for dinner.

  My lifted mood carried me all the way to bedtime. Even an impromptu late-night meeting with Adrian, who wanted to verify my unfortunate ‘malady’ for himself instead of taking everyone else’s word for it, couldn’t dampen my quiet elation.

  “Okay, Sebastian... we’ll humor you for now,” he advised, just before leaving. We stood in the foyer with the rest of my family, where everyone eyed me curiously. Everyone, but Dad and Grandpa, who seemed to find it all as amusing as I felt. Of course, that could’ve been influenced by their afternoon liquor binge. “Just as long as things go without a hitch—both here and in Europe—all will be well. Goodnight.”

  After my uncle’s departure, I headed upstairs.

  No one tried to detain me further.... But I knew it was only a matter of time before familial psychics and constables alike would try to assail my newfound mental fortress. And with roughly thirty hours before a certain wedding celebration was set to begin inside an ancient church half the world away, no doubt Friday would be filled with adventure. Adventure, along with plenty of intrigue, tension, and all of us silently wondering what ‘fun’ surprise could be in store for us next.

  I could hardly wait to find out.

  Chapter Sixteen

  What a difference one day’s passing can make.

  Yesterday, I awoke with a ‘gloom and doom’ perspective—the very opposite of the impish glee I felt upon hearing Mad Max’s advisement that Friday morning had arrived.

  “Good morning to you, too, you frigging fartnickle!” I whispered into the dimness. Smiling while whispering, I should say.

  I could’ve lingered for a while, half-tempted to watch the dawn’s early rays slowly creep into my bedroom. Sort of like a mythical phoenix celebrating my soul’s resurrection from the ashes of my previous forlorn state.

  Yeah, I suppose that’s a bit dramatic. But the combination of nervousness and elation flowing through me hadn’t been this intense for quite a while.

  Not since Daciana and I first embraced... and that amazing kiss!

  If I could’ve lingered only on that moment from fourteen months ago, perhaps my euphoria would’ve continued. But it’s nearly impossible not to think about everything that has followed our shared blissful moment. The positive vibe began to wane, fed by my incessant worry’s return. Despite the fact something truly magical happened yesterday in regard to my mind’s sudden privacy, there was still plenty of doubt to throw around.

  What if this is the only benefit I’ll be given? Sort of like a consolation prize while, in the meantime, Daciana goes through with the nuptials planned twenty-four hours from now.

  “Stop it, man—you don’t know what’s gonna happen between now and then!” I scolded myself.

  “And neither do you!” answered the nagging doubt inside my head.

  “That’s it—I’m up!”

  I bounded out of bed, and before I could dwell on anything else unpleasant, I was showered and dressed for the day. Not sure how the day would play out, as the only thing on my agenda was helping Harrison attach the cool painting Dad and Grandpa told me about to an alley wall.

  I thought about hanging out with Grandpa again atop the Beauregards’ roof, since he would likely still be enjoying his morning view of Denmark. And, if he were otherwise occupied, perhaps someone else in the family would welcome my company.

  That’s highly doubtful, Mr. Unreadable Mind!

  Okay... maybe Dad would be up for a chat. If not, surely Lucian would be game for some fun.

  With that perspective, I headed downstairs. I pictured fixing myself a real breakfast that morning. Maybe some eggs, hash-browns, and either sausage or bacon.

  As I neared the kitchen, I heard whispering.

  Sounds like a small crowd gathered around the island....

  “He’s here, everyone!” Alisia advised.

  Immediately, the voices hushed.

  I peered in through the kitchen doorway, confirming my latest hunch. All the females in my immediate family were joined by Adrian and the Albrights. Everyone turned their attention to me... all wore the same serious expression.

  “Good morning,” I said guardedly. “Mind if I fix myself something to eat?”

  Without waiting for a response, I lifted a large skillet from the hanging rack and moved to the fridge where I grabbed a carton of eggs, along with a few sausage links and the bacon pack. Feeling an air of unpleasantness in the offing, I decided to forego the hash-browns. Better to keep things simple!

  “What... skipping the Pop Tart routine today?” Alisia teased. “You’re just full of all kinds of surprises lately, Bas!”

  “Yes, I confess,” I replied dryly, while stepping past her to the stove. “Despite allowing Mom, Grandma, and Grandpa to fix me this very same breakfast from time to time—while all these years pretending to be a Kellogg’s connoisseur—I’m really just a carnivore with a herbivore sweet-tooth.”

  “So it would seem,” deadpanned Adrian, who appeared to be the most annoyed person in the room. “Are there any other sweet addictions you’d like to discuss?”

  “I’m not following... what do you mean?”

  “Have you met up again with Daciana—be it in a dream or any other discourse?” Grandma as
ked.

  I shook my head. “Is something going on in Romania?” I asked, absolutely enjoying the fact that my verbal answers meant something for the first time in years... maybe ever.

  Until now, my responses were merely honest confirmations for the information gleaned from my noggin—unless it was a conversation with Dad or Grandpa. Of course, conversations with mortals—or the non-psychic Mateis like Serghei and his brooding uncles—provided moments of privacy. Oh, and as far as mortals go, I can’t forget that Meredith Mays can read minds, too. But at least she keeps that fact largely to herself.

  “Not yet,” Arthur Albright replied. “But, there are concerns throughout the world that something could be afoot.”

  “We’re trying to stay ahead of whatever might happen tomorrow, dear,” added Matilda, trading subtle glances with her husband before sharing similar non-verbal gestures with Mom and Grandma.

  I cracked open two eggs while nodding as well, doing my best to look concerned and baffled.

  “You make it sound like the wedding might not happen,” I said, careful to come across as my usual ornery self. “Trouble in Paradise, I take it?”

  “No, the wedding will happen!” Adrian replied forcefully. “It must go on without a hitch, Sebastian!”

  “You make it sound like I have some magical pull to affect the outcome,” I said, frowning. “I’m just trying to move on with my life.”

  I shook my head in irritation that matched Adrian’s look—an honest reaction, since other than my devotion to Daciana, there wasn’t anything I had done or could do to screw things up. I mean, maybe I could tell her to go through with the marriage to Magnus Ninnius, that it would be best for our families, maintain peace and harmony throughout the Earth, yada, yada, yada.

  But, in the end, it would only deepen my own pain—and likely Daciana’s misery as well. If it truly was our destiny to remain apart, then it made sense for me to not try to make that happen. Instead, let it occur naturally—which included my natural aversion to tomorrow’s planned nuptials and to do whatever I could to stop it. That said, at the moment, other than being receptive to Daciana’s visitations and Wizard Sorin Gabon’s overtures to aid her rescue and our possible reunion, what else could I be responsible for?

  Nothing. Nothing at all.

  “We know this is hard for you, son,” said Mom. “But you need to be honest with us. Completely honest.”

  “I am being honest, Mom,” I said, venturing into my first lie that morning. Perhaps I could silently twist it along the lines of being forthright about how much I detested being interrogated. But, dancing around the facts is almost always deceitful. I grimaced at the thought that maybe my nose would start growing, since I’ve rarely had the opportunity to be dishonest about anything around those who could readily discern my private musings. “If anyone’s untruthful, it’s y’all. So far, I’m getting grilled about Daciana, while I’ve yet to hear anyone explain what this is all about.”

  Hard not to feel a bit smug with that response, especially with the ‘southern edge’ in the delivery.

  I expected an immediate verbal backhand for my smartness, but Mom merely looked surprised. Better than the acutely shocked look on Alisia’s face, or the stern disapproval that defined Grandma’s countenance.

  Of course, Adrian looked seriously pissed. I avoided his glowering gaze by shifting mine to the Albrights, who nodded thoughtfully. Arthur shot Matilda a questioning look with one eyebrow raised, and she responded to him with a slight nod.

  “Young Sebastian, you might recall the other day that Mattie and I were suddenly called home to England to deal with an emergency,” he said.

  “I remember... I was pulled into babysitting duty as a result.” I added a wry grin that I hoped would help lighten the dreary mood in the room. It didn’t.

  “Well... unknown to mortals and a host of witches and warlocks is the existence of a cave not far from the more prominent ‘Henges’ in Wiltshire,” he continued. “This particular cave has long housed relics that once belonged to the great Wizard Myrddin—or Merlin, as he is more commonly known. Myrddin’s true lifetime preceded Wizard Ninnius’ birth by several hundred years. Much of that history is unimportant at the moment, but what is of grave concern is the sudden disappearance of one of the ancient wizard’s most prized possessions: the most unique broomstick on Earth.”

  He paused to study my reaction, which remained neutral, along with my family’s collective response. We all nodded for him to continue.

  “The broomstick is actually two ancient broomsticks twisted together like a pair of serpents tightly wound around a branch, and with the brooms’ bristled ends pointed out in opposite directions,” he explained. “Long believed to be useful in navigating wormholes beyond the normal pathways utilized throughout the Earth, the EEC has long stationed guardians to keep a close eye on the broomstick and Myrddin’s other prized relics.”

  “The Elders’ Council can scarcely believe that anyone would attempt such a heist,” added Matilda. “Especially, since all of these relics remain under a ‘possession spell’ from Myrddin, before he passed on from this world. All of the items in the cave have earned a reputation for violent responses when even the most seasoned wizards merely touch them. And, Viviane—the name for this particular broomstick—is said to be the most volatile item of all.”

  “It’s why Viviane and the other items have never been removed from the cave to be stored in one of the EEC’s castles throughout England and the rest of Europe,” said Arthur, taking a seamless handoff from his beloved wife, who nodded approvingly as he took over. “The gist of it all is this: Since Gregorius Ninnius has assured the council he has had nothing to do with the broomstick’s disappearance, it can only be a handful of other candidates involved. The most likely is the wizard we believe has been trying to reach you, Bas.”

  “Who... Sorin Gabon?” I asked, doing my damnedest to appear deeply perplexed. “But Mom and Grandma say he’s just a charlatan, and not a real wizard.”

  I turned my attention to my mother and grandmother, who looked away uncomfortably.

  “Dearest, Sebastian... we have confirmed for Florina and Silvia that Sorin is indeed a true wizard—a status supported by Adrian as well,” Matilda advised. “We won’t belabor what this means for your family’s personal history, but for our immediate concern, it is critical that you tell us if Wizard Gabon has tried to contact you yet. And, if not, to alert us when he does.”

  “You believe he will contact me?” I asked, hoping I sounded dumbfounded and skeptical. “You do know about the note I got last week, right?”

  I silently prayed that my facial expression reflected genuine astonishment that one of the world’s most powerful wizards had a personal interest in reaching out to ‘little ole me.’

  “Arthur and Matilda know all about the note,” Adrian advised, “as well as Daciana’s efforts to astral-project herself into your dream the other night.”

  “But, there’s more... everyone here can sense that you’re hiding something from us, Bas,” said Alisia, shaking her head. “One way or another, we will find out. It’s best to come clean right now, while there’s time.”

  Time for what? I silently wondered.

  “Honestly, I’m just as baffled as all of you about why my thoughts are now private,” I said. “And, I’m not trying or even hoping to stir up needless trouble—definitely not. I want peace... and to somehow find happiness.”

  I paused to attend to my eggs and the bacon and sausage I had added to the skillet, in fear they might burn.

  “And, as for Sorin Gabon? The belief that the note I received a week ago came from him is largely based on what Alisia and Adrian have confirmed—along with Attila von Stroheim,” I resumed, once I was confident I wouldn’t be tasting ashes in my breakfast. “Otherwise, I would have no idea what that’s about.”

  Mostly the truth, and did I blatantly lie about anything right then? Not to my knowledge... although, omitting facts that can alter the p
erspective of a discussion is akin to lying, right? Hell, our world’s best-loved politicians are masters at disguising half-truths.

  But, would I come completely clean and reveal the treasure trove of fun facts and events that had taken place the past few days? Hell no.

  Everyone in the room nodded thoughtfully, and I prepared for another round in this early morning interrogation. But it didn’t happen. I suppose my family and our friendly neighborhood constables figured it was pointless at the moment to press me further. Especially, since they couldn’t present any solid evidence to say “Ah-ha—Gotcha!”

  As they prepared to get on with their day, Alisia asked me about my plans.

  “I’ve got a clear slate so far, other than helping Harrison Crawford hang a painting this afternoon. It sounds like a badass painting, too—maybe you and Harris can stop by to check it out?”

  “It sounds like fun,” she agreed. “But, are you forgetting about the birthday party at Sadee Dean’s house later this morning?”

  “What birthday party?” I asked.

  “Twyla Tidwell will turn seven years old tomorrow, but her party has been moved up to today as her father is coming by to pick her up this afternoon,” Mom advised, handing me a plate and utensils for my breakfast. “She asked specifically for you to come.... I guess we forgot to mention it with all the excitement going on around here lately.” She eyed me as if she had a list of unspoken questions swirling inside her head.

  “Thanks, Mom.” I took the plate and offered her a loving smile, hoping she wouldn’t spring an unwelcome mini-interrogation ‘follow-up’ on me. “What time is the party?”

  “Ten o’clock in the Deans’ backyard,” Grandma advised, preparing a frosted glass of milk for me.

  Good to know I hadn’t been ostracized by my family just yet.

  “Jeff Tidwell is moving to Florida, and since Twyla’s schooling has been largely put on hold this fall due to the pandemic, he’s taking Twyla with him for the next few months,” Grandma continued. “It’s just too bad Marsha Tidwell has been such a selfish, shitty mom... she might’ve been granted full custody. I fear for Twyla’s wellbeing away from Denmark. Everyone here loves that child as if she were our own!”