by Aiden James
“Meaning we need something stronger than what our enemies expect in our back pocket, so to speak. Just in case the Mateis have brought more firepower than they had the last time we faced them. Showing that we have the upper hand might buy us years of freedom. Now, we just need to find a way to hold them off until August.”
That’s what I was afraid of. It’s also the only thing I could think about while gathering several new azaleas for the gardens to replace the ones the deer had eaten, and a second purchase of Roundup for the pesky weeds coming up through cracks in the brick walkways around the house. Oh, and birdseed for the songbirds that Mom and Grandma had grown fond of during the past few weeks.
Every bit of it easily taken care of by magic… but not for this wand ‘teetotaling’ family.
It was nearing six o’clock when we finished loading everything in the trunk and backseat, and by the time we arrived at the Southern Comfort Inn restaurant, my parents, sister, and Grandma were waiting for us in the parking lot. I parked next to the Escalade and was about to get out, when I noticed a foursome from the Matei clan approaching us on foot. Serghi and Simion led the way, along with two other Mateis I had not seen in nearly eighty years: Simion’s younger brothers, Serafim and Cristian, better known as the ‘blue-eyed demon brothers’ from Prohibition lore in Chicago.
Last I heard, they had been banished to Europe for mischief and violence that was even too much for Valerian Matei’s stomach.
The warlocks were dressed in full Gothic wardrobes—summer style—like a quartet of bikers. Vests, chaps, and heavy black boots… along with chains jingling from their belts and footwear. I smiled at the thought that Serafim and Cristian could pass for twin blonde rockers, though instead of switchblades and guns, they carried gold handled wands with intricate artwork engraved along the shafts—similar to what Grandpa had commissioned for his wand just two hours earlier. The wands were at the ready, and no doubt, they intended to use them on us… or maybe kill a few innocent bystanders. After all, the Mateis had grown increasingly malevolent the past few years, and certainly could give a rat’s ass about riling up the locals with a few casualties. Arresting these guys would be futile, since they’re not easily subdued, and nearly impossible to kill by normal means before their lifetime naturally expires. Ambushed with the right spells to disarm would be the only way to defeat this brand of witch or warlock; and as far as I knew, Grandma had left all of our other cherished wands locked up at the house in what used to be a gun safe we bought from the Clarkes. For the moment, none of us were armed.
The final revenge for the death of Toma Matei could happen in the next few minutes, and I could sense the growing tension inside the Escalade.
Grandpa urged me to stay inside the Mustang, but I got out anyway.
“So, only the youngest rodent from the Chicago line of Radus is brave enough to meet his fate?” taunted Simion, as the quartet separated to form an arc around us while they stealthily closed in.
Simion and Serghei pulled out their wands as well. Though standard mahogany versions that lacked the ornamentation of Simion’s siblings’ wands, they were deadly enough. Meanwhile, curious patrons in the parking lot paused to watch the confrontation unfold. Surely they felt the dangerous presence of the warlocks, but lacked the sense to flee…. Like deer aware of a hunter’s pointed rifle from a hidden perch in the woods, but then remain frozen where they stand until bullets have found their mark.
“Sebastian is braver than any of you!” replied my father, who had slipped out of the SUV with my mother and grandmother behind him. Grandpa had also managed to exit the car with only a pair of light clicks to announce the passenger door had opened and closed. “There is no need for violence… and the Elders assured us this morning that they would bring severe justice to you all if bloodshed came to the streets of Denmark.”
“Ha! Like that means anything!” chided Serafim. His voice had taken on a noticeable eastern European accent since the last time I had been in his presence, just before Elvis Presley became king of America’s pop culture. “Bloodshed is owed to us, and being that it has been unpaid for one hundred and thirty-seven years, we believe the debt now requires two Radu lives, instead of the one for Toma.”
“Then take mine,” said Grandpa, deftly sliding over the hood of the Mustang to join me. I glanced around to see if the small crowd of onlookers gathered a hundred feet away had witnessed his graceful, but unnatural, movements. “As patriarch, my life is worth two lives.”
He stepped in front of me and then approached them. He would be face to face with Simion within a minute.
“If only an old man dying would be worth half as much as a young life snuffed out unjustly,” said Cristian, picking up from where his brother left off. “Toma’s soul clamors revenge, and it needs to be someone younger…. How about the young chick in the Caddy? She might provide a little fun for us all first, and then we can watch her age and die as a withering old hag!”
“How about you go screw one another instead!” I shouted in anger, incensed by the insult to my sister and disrespect shown to my grandfather. Meanwhile, Grandpa stepped in front of me and silently invoked a shield that prevented me from slipping around him to go after these assholes.
“Don’t, Sebastian!” Mom cried, when I figured out a way to elude the shield, while my grandfather sought to tackle me in panic. I could hear Dad and Grandma join her in running toward us, and the sound of the Escalade’s passenger door opening and slamming announced the fact Alisia would soon be on her way, too.
You damned fool! Did you intend to get everyone killed?!
Spurred on by raging anger, I wasn’t thinking clearly… and hadn’t considered the consequences of a rash move against a heavily armed and aggressive foursome.
Simion nodded pompously while Serghei laughed meanly. Both raised their wands in preparation to cut me down as I stormed toward them. I don’t think I fully understood the unstable thoughts and emotions that propelled me. However, in this ill-conceived moment of bravado I did realize the likely result of such foolhardiness, and took a deep breath as I prepared myself to become the sacrificial lamb the Mateis sought. No, I’ve never had a death wish… but something inside clicked on. Maybe it was the fact I could never live with myself if anyone in my immediate family perished that afternoon, and I had done nothing to try and prevent it.
In the few seconds that separated me from the afterlife, a sudden shimmer throttled the air. While it certainly had to be detectable by warlocks, witches, and mortals alike, only those unnaturally alive were thrown to the ground. The local bystanders remained standing, gazing at us with their mouths hanging open, and perhaps more perplexed by the fact we were all prostrate while the air around them crackled with energy. Correction, they stood, along with a pair of familiar newcomers who seemed to materialize out of nothing. The two men strode toward us with drawn wands gleaming as brightly as Serafim’s and Cristian’s gilded weaponry.
“Why are you in a hurry to be banned to Sheol?” shouted the taller of the pair, a bearded man with hair as thick as Dad’s and as long as Grandpa’s. His dark brown eyes flashed with anger, and a coolness bearing a similar menacing power to the Mateis emanated from him. I say similar, but this one’s air of danger was much more pronounced. “It seems I should not have spared your lives in Istanbul three summers ago, Serafim and Cristian!”
“We haven’t harmed anyone yet, Adrian, so your references to mercy are meaningless!” Cristian shot back. “Your Code does not apply here.”
“Say again, Cristian? I pray that you reconsider, since vile, murderous thoughts are indeed treated the same as deeds by the Elders’ Council!” this man named Adrian replied, whom I now recognized as Dad’s older brother. “Prepare to receive your justice!”
In an instant, he disappeared from view and then reappeared inside the arc. With speed that my eyes struggled to follow, he disarmed all four Matei warlocks. Uncle Adrian brandished his wand perilously close to Serghei’s neck as he held the young
est Matei against his chest. I’ve always considered Simion to be as selfish a man as has ever lived, and I expected him to care only for his own survival. He fell to his knees, quivering in fear and surely destined to be a source of embarrassment for his two younger brothers looking on painfully. But instead of pleading for mercy on himself, he entreated Adrian to only spare Serghei’s life.
My uncle’s expression softened. Likely he was just as surprised, and a murmur swept through my family, still gathered near our automobiles. All of them repeatedly called to me in hushed voices to scurry back to them. But I felt compelled to watch the drama play out between the Mateis and this warlock they all seemed to fear.
“All right… I will spare your son this time, Simion. But only if you leave now, and you give me your word to avoid my family at all costs,” said Adrian, his tone frigid, and his eyes aglow with supreme anger. “The three of you leave first through the wormhole your brothers have been using since they arrived in the United States last night. I will send Serghei afterward, safe and sound…. But any trickery, or if I hear so much as another whim for revenge from any of you, then prepare to bury his headless body that will follow you out of the wormhole. Am I clear?”
Simion glanced nervously at his son before eyeing my family and me with restrained wrath. He nodded his consent to Adrian’s demand. If he had entertained thoughts of trying anything cute against my uncle, it ended once the other man—who I now recognized as my other uncle, Manuel—suddenly appeared at Adrian’s side, with his wand drawn.
“Then, be gone!” Adrian commanded.
Simion and his brothers raised their unarmed hands above their heads and a moment later their broomsticks appeared, passing over our heads so quickly that they weren’t visible until they arrived in each warlock’s palms. The trio boarded their rides and rose into the air above the parking lot. Then they rocked toward what at first appeared to be a small, rain laden, storm cloud nestled in a low-lying cloudbank in the early summer sky at sunset.
Adrian released his grip on Serghei, and said something inaudible to me. Whatever Adrian told him was strong enough to obliterate a nervous smile tugging at the corners of Serghei’s mouth. The youngest male in the American Matei clan nodded solemnly to whatever my uncle told him, and then reached an open hand into the air until his broomstick arrived. He jumped on the broomstick and flew toward the same destination in the sky as his kindred warlocks moments earlier.
Hard to tell if the small crowd of restaurant patrons noticed anything more than the four warlocks disappearing into the purplish, glowing wormhole that suddenly opened up as a fissure among the clouds to accept each one. I’d say it’s safe to assume their minds quit comprehending a sight that all of them last deemed possible as young children at Halloween. I incorrectly assumed this was Adrian’s and Manuel’s perspective as well, even though they made light of the event while motioning for us to join them inside the restaurant.
“Well? You were planning to meet us here for dinner, Gabriel… or did you forget?” Manuel chided playfully.
The embarrassed look on Dad’s face said he had indeed forgotten. However, my family had been expecting my uncles, aunts, and cousins to arrive at any time. Maybe the details were never finalized completely as my uncle assumed.
“It is but a small matter,” said Adrian, stepping over to my father and wrapping his arm around Dad’s shoulder, and leading him toward the entrance and the two- dozen wide-eyed witnesses to what just happened. “Let’s go inside and get a table… shall we?”
“Sounds good to me!” Alisia enthused.
My sister led the way, almost skipping, and obviously enjoying the wary expressions on the faces of Denmark’s mortal citizenry. Dad and Grandpa were chumming up with Adrian and Manuel—family we had not seen in person in nearly two decades since they moved back to Romania, and then traveled throughout Europe—while Mom and Grandma pulled up the rear with me.
“Don’t believe everything you see!” Adrian advised the crowd, soon after they had parted for us like the Red Sea had once done for Moses. He motioned with his wand to both sides, whispering a barely audible incantation. Meanwhile, his persona of power and anger had melted into something much more docile, like a lion transformed into a domestic kitten. “Much of what you see every day is an illusion…. Learn to see between the lines, to define what is really happening, and what is not. And, remember this: what you thought you saw today wasn’t real. It has no importance.”
He offered a generous smile to all and slipped his wand inside a holster attached to his belt, as Manuel had done similarly with his wand moments earlier. Then he held the door open for us all to enter the restaurant. The faces I saw at that point looked distrusting, which made me worry that his spell hadn’t worked on everyone. But the fact that each person returned his infectious smile with their own smiles told me the few fully cognizant witnesses would likely soon forget what had happened that evening. Or, at least they wouldn’t talk about it much in public.
Unless it happened again… or something worse came about.
Chapter Twelve
My uncles staying with us proved to be a double-edged sword.
Knowing we were safe for the time being from any surprise attacks from the Matei clan brought an incredible sense of relief… true peace. We slept soundly for the first night since learning our archenemies had not only located us, but intended to reside in the same town. In Chicago, they preferred the stately neighborhoods, and had never visited Wheaton… at least not to my knowledge. Although, I suppose a random fly-by, or even a drive-through of our neighborhood without our awareness was possible. Not likely, but hell, Valerian and Irina briefly accomplished that feat at the local Kroger in Denmark. Anything was possible.
So, what do I have to bitch about, one might ask?
Well, for starters, despite having forty-five hundred square feet inside the house, the previous owners rehabilitated the house from the brink of a wrecking ball to accommodate them comfortably… as in ‘perfect for two’ people. Not so much for more than that. As a result, maybe two or three guests could stay in the house with us, but any more than that would mean air mattresses or sleeping bags for anyone else. The four functional bedrooms housed my parents and grandparents on one side of the house, and my sister and me in the remaining bedrooms on the other side. Eventually, we planned to finish the servants’ quarters across the courtyard in the back. We could even add a bedroom or two to the barn whenever Dad and Grandpa got around to securing and restoring the damned thing before it crumbled to the ground. I might add here that it was the only part of the property still in serious disrepair when we moved in.
But, the point of all this is that having Adrian and Manuel share our home made things a bit crowded. Even when Grandpa and Grandma relented to their request to move up into the unfinished attic—which from what Dad said, also allowed them to use their ‘higher magic’ to create a miniature palace of sorts—I still felt cramped. Maybe it was envy on my part, since these two warlocks had mastered the use of dimensional reality, time, and space to such a degree that they could create a Bali-like resort inside the scaled down confines of a shoebox if they so desired, and live quite comfortably in such a modified world. Hard to picture, I know. It brings back memories of the I Dream of Jeannie TV show from the sixties for me.
Perhaps I would’ve been fine with such an arrangement, if it had consistency. However, having the two suddenly show up in the upstairs spa bathroom while I showered seemed like something I’d never get used to. It was the same deal for Alisia, as I heard her scream when Manuel popped in while she was using the bathroom. Apparently, such moments are viewed quite differently in Eastern Europe. Not to mention, both of my uncles were born when modern privacy standards were a whimsical wish. It definitely made for a difficult adjustment—particularly for Alisia and me.
“How long do you expect them to be here?” she asked me worriedly, at breakfast on Thursday, two days after Adrian’s and Manuel’s arrival to our side of the g
lobe. Our latest rescue from the Mateis seemed much older than the thirty-eight hours that had passed since the confrontation in the Southern Comfort Inn’s parking lot. Adapting to our uncles’ presence and being held inside the house as a precaution caused day thirty-six to become an incredibly boring drudge. If things didn’t improve for my sister and me quickly, then day thirty-seven was destined for a similar fate. “Longer than a week?”
“Could be,” I said. “I heard Dad and Uncle Adrian talk about turning the house into a virtual fortress, to last until the Mateis grew weary and returned to Chicago.”
“Shit, Bas, that could take frigging years!”
“I know,” I agreed. “It sucks royally, and don’t forget we’ve still got two aunts and three cousins who might join us if this extends into August.”
“Which it will,” she said, resignedly. “Why can’t they stay in a hotel or the bed and breakfast up the road?”
“Do you mean the little Twin Oaks place up near the top of Chaffin’s Bend?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe… but it only has three sleeping rooms. I bet at least one of our cousins will end up staying here—regardless of how this all works out.”
She groaned and laid her head down on the kitchen table, effectively hiding her tortured expression from me behind a Wheaties cereal box.
“Try to look at the bright side, Ali,” I said. “At least we now have the firepower to kick the Mateis’ asses, since Manuel and Adrian aren’t chicken shit to face those assholes.”
I peered over the cereal box, and she raised her head, a slight hopeful smile tugging on the edges of her lips… with a touch of impishness. Sort of inappropriate, given her previous reaction.
“Gotcha!”
I jumped and nearly broke part of the chandelier hanging above the breakfast table. Uncle Manuel had sneaked up from behind, and scared the holy bejesus out of me!
“Looks like you need to learn how to close your aura, Sebastian!” he playfully rebuked me. “You would’ve sensed me creeping up on you.”