Gula: The Oswald Witches

by Mathew Ortiz

  “How close are you to being done?”

  Karina set down her polish. “Last five rungs. Whew!! I’m glad this only comes around once a month.”

  “I’m looking forward to spring!” She saw Karina’s quizzical gaze. “The Oswalds hire a cleaning crew of one hundred and have them do a deep cleaning. It is also the only week we have off!” Ming grinned as she gathered up her supplies.

  “What do we do that week?” Karina was on the last two rungs.

  “I take the week off and visit my family and relax.” Ming dropped her supplies into her carrier and waited for Karina to finish. Lately, Karina grew nervous Ming was out of her sight. Ming had a good idea why she was nervous: Oswald House’s head chef, Bennett Mimieux. That rat had been sniffing about Karina for months. Ming suspected that he had been pushing himself at her. He had done the same thing to her when they first met.

  A swift knee to the groin and a punch to his jaw let Mimieux know that Ming was not interested. He gave her a wide berth after that, which suited her fine. Karina, however, was much younger than Ming. She was also very…how could Ming put it nicely? Karina was a pussy. She let the man get the better of her and to make her afraid. Ming railed at Karina and insisted that they tell their employers. Karina steadfastly refused, telling Ming she had it under control. Ming seriously doubted that.

  Karina refused to go to the main kitchen unless with Ming or Mrs. Carmichael. It bothered Ming to no end that that man was affecting her friend so. She promised she wouldn’t interfere, and she wouldn’t unless the sleaze ball gave her a reason to take him out. It might cost her her job, but if Mimieux hurt Karina, Ming would never forgive herself.

  “All done!” Karina’s singsonged, and Ming trooped over to meet up with her. They walked down the Grand Staircase and headed to the servants’ quarters, stopping at the supply closet, a ten by ten room full of cleaning supplies and equipment. Depositing their oily rags into the drum sink, Ming ran water over them, soaking them well. It was too easy for an oily rag to self-combust and burn down the house if left dry. Karina puttered around in the room, putting away the polishing oils and buckets.

  Satisfied, the two left the supply room and made their way to the common room. There they found Mr. Singh, Mrs. Carmichael and Sal Munoz, the sous chef, having a late lunch. Ming waved to Mrs. Carmichael.

  “Elizabeth, any food left?” Ming saw Karina color slightly. While Ming was confident in her relationship with Mohamed Singh and Elizabeth Carmichael to call them by their first name, she knew Karina was not.

  “Of course, dear. Have a seat.” Elizabeth indicated the two seats by Sal. Karina sat down by Sal, and Ming was to her right. Ming noted the small smile Karina gave Sal and the shy grin he gave her. So Karina liked Sal. Bennett liked Karina. Karina hated Bennett. Sal and Bennett are not only friends, but Bennett was Sal’s superior. What a mess!

  “All done?” The knowing smirk on Elizabeth’s face irked her.

  “Yes, all of it. One day, I’ll be sending the junior staff to polish that monster!’ Ming declared, and Elizabeth and Mohamed both chuckled. The running joke was that staff strived to be senior staff so they could foist off the miserable job of polishing the Grand Staircase onto the new junior staff.

  Elizabeth tittered and wagged her finger at the two women. “One day you might, but right now it’s still on your job. I saw it. It gleams like a new penny. Well done.”

  Karina moaned, “My thighs and arms hurt so much.”

  “I think I can speak for Mr. Singh in saying that you two can finish up the afternoon work and take off the rest of the day.” Elizabeth dipped her cookie into her coffee, munching happily.

  “We only have to prep the beds in the two guest suites, right?” Bits of cookie flew from Karina’s mouth as she spoke. Ducking her head, she took a quick drink of coffee and swallowed. “Sorry.”

  “You’re right. Dathan and Donovan Temple from Cold Creek Pack arrive tomorrow. All must be in readiness. This is the first visit of the Alpha, Dathan Temple, to Oswald House. There hasn’t been a shifter on the property since Mia Blackthorne was alive and in power.” Like he was reciting an epic poem, Mohamed gravely spun the tale.

  “Why so long?” Sal asked.

  Mohamed twisted his lips. “It would seem that Dathan’s father, the previous alpha, and Mia did not get along. I was junior then, but I can remember Daniel Temple flying through the windows of the library, nearly falling off the cliff and into the sea!”

  “Ohh, he did make her mad.” Elizabeth added, her eyes aglow with excitement.

  Ming was curious. “What did he say to make her do that?”

  “Never did find out. Temple and his pack left that day, and from then on, Alpha Daniel and Ms. Mia barely spoke,” Mohamed said as he got up and cleared away his dishes.

  “Gossip amongst the houses is that the new Alpha Temple hopes to mend fences. There have been some deaths within the Shifter Clans. His pack and another joined to create a larger one, called Cold Creek Pack. I gather he is hoping for strength in numbers. The whole debacle last month with the Fire Clans and the withdrawal of the Air Clans are making the Shifters nervous. The Water and Earth Clans have been strong allies for centuries. The Water Clans are tied to the Moon and the Earth Clans to Mother Earth, in that they are bound in the eternal dance. I think Dathan is swallowing his pride and asking for help, lest his Clan and his sub clans are wiped out.” Animated, Elizabeth had all of them enthralled. Ming found herself on the edge of her chair.

  “What do we know about the Temples?” Karina piped up.

  “What we know is that they are our guests.” As senior head of staff, Mohamed was the butler to the family and was reminding them of their job. “And we shall treat them with the utmost respect. Really Mrs. Carmichael, such gossipy stuff is unprofessional.”

  “That’s why you leave it to me to find out the juicy tidbits.” Unfazed, Elizabeth met Singh’s gaze unflinchingly. His only response was a quick twitch of his lips, almost smiling.

  “Duh! Like we’d do anything less than perfect.” Ming rolled her eyes and shoved away from the table. “Come on, Karina, let’s get the rooms done and knock off for the rest of the day.”

  Karina downed her coffee and grabbed an apple as an afterthought as she hurried after Ming. The promise of a half-day off was more than enough to make the two women go into overdrive.

  ***

  Oliver opened the door to his bedroom, flicked on the lights, and smiled. Ming, God bless her, had blown through his room like a cyclone and tidied it all up. It’s not like he meant to be so messy. It came naturally. Flinging off his clothes, they landed everywhere. Naked and free, he flopped onto his bed and twisted to a sitting position at the head of the bed. Nabbing two pillows, he jammed them behind his back, took his laptop from the nightstand, and placed it on his lap. It was after twelve at night before he had come home. He had gone out drinking with Gregory again. He and his prissy cousin were becoming friends, despite Gregory’s best efforts to be a total twatwaffle.

  Flipping open the computer, he pulled up his email. Scanning them, one stuck out. It was from a dead end mailing address, and he spotted Rory’s handiwork. A lump formed in his throat as he opened it. All the email said was: I’m fine. That was it. Oliver scratched his head and sucked his emotions back. It shouldn’t hurt anymore. It shouldn’t. Then why did his chest ache?

  Rory had left to free Oliver to find his bondmate. Noble and loving, Rory had been the world for Oliver. First friends, then fuck buddies, and then lovers, the two men had run the gamut. Rory didn’t even blink when Oliver told him he was a witch. What bothered Oliver was that Rory was perfect for him. His witch’s sense had disagreed. There was no tingle. No shiver. Nothing. Rory Sheffield was not his bondmate. When Rory had found out he wasn’t, he decided to leave, which devastated Oliver.

  Tears threatened, and Oliver shoved his computer off his lap and tumbled out of bed. He tapped his iPod on the nightstand, and music from his favorite band, the Weepi
es, filled the room. The song ‘Nobody Knows Me’ came on, and he sang along. He padded over to his dresser and picked up a small wooden box, turning it over in his hands. He pushed on three points and the lid slid open. Snagging out a fatty, he made his way to the window and opened it. The cold air slapped his face, making his nipples pebble painfully, and he retreated.

  Flicking his hand at the fireplace, a fire roared to life, eating away at the fat logs nestled within. As warmth spread through the room, he went back to the window and touched the tip of the joint to light the end. Taking a long drag, the distinctive smell filled his nostrils and burned into his lungs.

  Holding in the lungful of smoke, he let it go at last, blowing it out the window. He hauled his butt up onto the dresser and folded his legs under him Indian style. His simple world was getting way too complicated. He fell in love, then lost Rory. He was now on the runaway train to the Ascension Trials, competing with four other people. It terrified the shit out of him.

  What have I got myself into?

  The youngest boy of the Blackthornes, Oliver had never had much expected of him. He enjoyed that. He was able to do what he wanted, and he left the leadership of the family to his oldest brother William. Duncan, the middle brother, was back up. Oliver attended school and graduated without any particular honors. He spent his time working out, playing rugby, and eating. Oliver reached down and patted his belly. Ironic that William used to have more of a gut than he did. Are those love handles?

  Then William met Rush. Mr. Run-five-miles-a-day-and-work-out-five-days-a-week-and-eat-healthier Harrington! William’s gut was diminishing. Meanwhile, Oliver’s was getting bigger. He wasn’t fat, only thick. And with the weight lifting, his bulk had grown. His shoulders were wider than William’s, and his arms were much bigger.

  Oliver flexed his bicep and smiled. Maybe I should do more cardio. Meh… He tossed out the notion and took another hit of his fatty. A pleasant buzz was muzzing his brain nicely. God bless Aunt Reeka. She grows some good shit.

  Horny and high, Oliver reached down and tugged at his flaccid dick. Running a finger over the ridge of his head, the tingles from his touch resonated into his balls. Unlike his hairy brother, Oliver was smooth as glass. No hair anywhere. The only hair he had was on his head. He loved how his bare skin felt in clothes.

  Unlike Duncan, who had nipple rings, a PA, and foot-to-chest tattoos, Oliver’s skin was unmarked and lightly tanned. When he was done working out at the gym, he did some time in the tanning bed, sans suit. Overall the golden tan and his golden hair drew both male and female attention.

  Smirking, he pulled on the joint that was damp between his lips, sucking hard and filling his lungs again with the fragrant smoke. He leaned forward and tapped some ash off. His hair fell into his face and he huffed, annoyed. Grabbing a rubber band from around his wrist, he twisted his long hair up into a “mun,” a man bun. Oliver had stopped cutting his hair two years ago, and now it touched his shoulders. The mun or a pullback was how he wore his hair lately. Aunt Mags ragged on him constantly. Gregory picked on him about his hair until a particularly attractive witch had hit on Oliver. Outraged at being ignored, his brash cousin demanded to know why the man had chosen Oliver over him. The man shrugged and simply said, “Oliver’s got great hair!” After that Gregory had stopped cutting his hair. While not as long as Oliver’s, it did hang longer than average, much to his mother’s annoyance.

  Walking naked to his bathroom, he looked over his shoulder and squinted. The wave of telekinesis flowed from him and the window closed, the lock clicking loudly. The bathroom off his bedroom was gorgeous. The best feature was the claw foot tub. Another squint and the tap for hot water turned, and the tub began to fill. Oliver took a large glass jar from a nearby shelf and dumped a healthy handful of the Bergamot Salts into the water, the steam carrying the delectable scent throughout the room.

  Oliver put the jar down on the small side table by the tub. Climbing into the tub, his toe touched the hot water, and he flinched. He reached over and turned on some cold water. He also puffed out a breath, and his Aerokinetic power called up a breeze that blew over the hot water, cooling it slightly. Shielding his joint, Oliver eased himself into the hot scented water. When the edge of his balls touched the water he jumped.

  “Hot, hot, hot!” With exaggerated ease, he lowered his ass and balls into the water, then the rest of him. Sinking up to his neck, Oliver relaxed totally. At the flick of his gaze, the ashtray from the bedroom floated over and landed on the table by the tub. Tapping off some more ash, he took one last drag before putting out the nub. Closing his eyes, he let his mind unwind while the powers of Divination and Clairvoyance tickled his brain at the edges. He let the Divination come forward, allowing it to ease into his thoughts. Some scoffed at Divination, but Oliver knew better. In fact, Divination was more complicated than most thought. Thanks to his Aunt Bea, he finally understood all the aspects of this much-maligned power.

  Divination could be broken down into four categories. First was Omens. Ancient Chinese history scrupulously documented such occurrences. It carefully detailed strange births, the tracking of natural phenomena, and other unusual events. Seeing omens appeared in nearly all cultures, with interpretation of them varying by culture and practitioner.

  The second type of Divination was basically rolling the dice. Sortilege or Cleromancy was the casting of lots, or sortes. The object could be sticks, stones, bones, beans, coins, or some other item. The focus of this form of Divination was the practitioner’s perceptions of the patterns created when the objects were rolled. This was useful in finding the location of an object, whereas Omens tended to lean more to people.

  Augury was a type of set-given possibilities. This was a third variation and the one Oliver had the most trouble with. It could be qualitative. Augury was normally considered to specifically be referring to divination by studying the flight patterns of birds. It could also be the examining of the entrails of a sacrificed animal. An animal lover, Oliver knew he would never practice this side of Divination.

  The last one was the most nebulous and, in his opinion, leant more toward the Precognitive power. Spontaneous Divination was an unconstrained form of Divination. It was free from any particular medium and was actually a generalization of all types of Divination. The answer came from whatever object the diviner happened to see or hear. Some religions of the new age after BC used a form of bibliomancy. The person asked a question then riffled the pages of their holy book. They then took as their answer the first passage their eyes lit upon. Oliver tended to use the first two variations of Divination, especially Sortilege. He had a bag of glass beads, polished stone, and chunks of wood. He could also use regular playing dice. Here in the heat of the tub, the Spontaneous Divination sang forth. Staring into the ripples of the water, images formed in his head.

  Hmmm….Rush left his wallet in the family room. I have to remember to tell him about that. More ripples. Jaime’s got a secret. That startled him. Jaime said nothing of leaving to any of them. Sure she was going to attend Harvard, but that was in the fall. I wonder what the Divination means? The ripples expanded outward and hit the side of the tub. A man is coming. A dark man, moonlight in his eyes. Agony in his soul. What the fuck? The ripples came back upon themselves. Fang and claw, the flesh deeply craving. His Divinations were confusing. Blinking, he shook his head, and the Divinations dissipated.

  Oliver pinched his nose closed and slipped under the water. It swirled over his closed eyes, and the rush of water in his ears dulled his hearing. Opening his eyes, a single bubble floated into his field of vision. Lifting up, he came out of the water, and his Clairvoyance made itself known. Relaxed as he was, the barriers he placed in his mind from his training with his aunts evaporated, and the thoughts of the house whispered into his mind.

  Suck harder, yeah right there…lick it. God he’s so fucking hot with his mouth stuffed full of my cock. Oliver blushed. Rush’s thoughts were sensual and dirty and oh, so….nope this is too we
ird. He cut off the connection.

  Up and down. Hmmm should I taste his ass? Nah, I want to get fucked tonight. I lick his hole and he’ll want my dick in him. Not tonight, baby. Tonight...

  Ew! Hearing William getting his freak on with Rush was too much for him. He shifted his mind away from his horn dog brother and sexy brother-in-law. Yeah, Oliver admitted to himself, he had the hots for Rush. Who wouldn’t? Rush was alpha maleness wrapped up in a darkly sexy, muscled body. Even Duncan had said he’d do Rush if William hadn’t snatched him up first. William only glowered at his brothers when they laughed and teased him about his hottie McSandwhich of a bondmate! More thoughts drifted into his mind.

  I won’t be afraid, I won’t be…

  I love her so much. But I’m not good enough for her…

  Fucking bitch…

  Pancakes, muffins, bacon, maybe some fruit…

  The nightshade needs pruning. Better use my thick gloves…

  I miss you so much, my love…

  I wonder if she likes me…

  One mind was placid…unnaturally so. Oliver’s face heated with shame. It was Duncan. His power of Clairvoyance was getting stronger. Each day he had to focus more on holding the thoughts of others at bay. It was at night when he tried to sleep that his walls fell and the voices whispered in his head. Tonight the depths of his brother’s pain became horrifyingly real to him. Focusing, he turned his mind toward his brother and concentrated. Duncan’s mind was so empty. No emotions, few dreams, and void, save for a weary inner voice…

  …Please…please let me die, I want to be with him so bad… Hecate… God… Manu… Other…please release me from my pain.

  Clutching his chest Oliver gasped like a fish out of water as Duncan’s grief washed over him like a cold tsunami. The agony of having his soul’s other half ripped away was destroying his brother. Gingerly, so as not to be sensed, Oliver probed and found blackness. An unending blackness in Duncan’s soul. Oh my God, that was where Ezekiel’s presence was supposed to be! He flinched and swallowed hard, but all that was there was a gnawing emptiness that was growing in his brother’s mind and soul.