“They’re still in Germany,” she said offhandedly. “Let’s go to the deck.”
Indicating the mouse, he asked, “What about Lili?”
“She’ll be fine. She likes to run about. I’ll find her later.”
Andrea led him through the family room to a glass door that opened onto a deck that spanned across the back of the house from the family room to her parents’ bedroom at the far end. In the cold moonlight, they sat down at some wrought-iron furniture and gazed off at the mountains in the distance.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” she said.
“Yeah, but freezing.” He pulled his jacket tightly together.
“Darren, we never talk about what our plans are after high-school. What do you think you’re going to do?”
“Well...” He was taken aback by the question and hated to admit he wasn’t too certain. “I’ve always thought I’d see if I could get an athletic scholarship to Utah State and play for the Aggies just like Ethan did. Then, if things go well, hopefully get on an NBA team. I know that’s probably a big pipe dream, but that’s what I’d like to have happen. And this State Tournament won’t hurt any.”
She smiled and squeezed his hand across the table.
“But,” he went on, “if that doesn’t turn out like I’m hoping, I guess I’ll go to USU, pursue a Communications degree, and go into Marketing or Public Relations.”
“And work for an NBA team in their P.R. department?”
He shrugged. “Well, you know I’d be good at it, and it would make a good living. And it’s something I know all about.”
“And, what about us?” she asked demurely. “After high school, do I fit in there at all?”
“Ah,” he stammered. These were awfully big questions for her to be asking. And in light of the things he’d been going through lately, they seemed absurdly out of place, like asking a man whose house is on fire if he’d seen the big game last night.
In truth, life beyond high school was sort of an ethereal nondescript that held only basketball and probably college. Marriage and family were there too, but not clearly defined. He’d just assumed, in a rather vague way, if he and Andrea continued to date, they’d probably get married, sure. But as for planning it or working out the details, he simply hadn’t given it that much thought.
And then there was Samantha. She’d come along and messed with his head even further. What was he thinking about Samantha for? He barely knew her. But of course that was nothing compared to the fact that SHE WAS A WITCH! A witch that conjured up evil demons and half burnt sorcerers. She was probably working some strange spell on him right now by screwing with his thoughts. But it didn’t seem like magic. It felt genuine as if something real was going on between them, something that wasn’t just coming from his imagination but had substance in his real life. She’d shown some sort of interest in him, and she wasn’t hiding the fact that she was a witch very well. And was she Samantha or Sahwin?
What the heck had Andrea asked him? When he looked up, she was leaning against the railing, gazing at the moon. What had happened? He must have been staring off into space. What an idiot.
He got up and walked over to her. She could have been a small nighttime fairy in the moonlight, her loose gown wafting in the cold breeze. He wanted to hold her and protect her and tell her everything would be fine, but his blunder a couple of seconds ago had ruined any hope of that.
“Andrea, I’m sorry. Don’t read too much into that. I wasn’t ready for the question.”
“That’s okay,” she said. “I was stupid to ask.” There was the threat of tears in her voice.
“No, no you weren’t. Really, it was more the timing of the question than it was the question itself. Sometimes I feel too young to think about things like marriage and being an adult and all that. It doesn’t mean I don’t see you in my life beyond high school.”
She turned to face him, and he put his arms around her waist. “It’s kind of like what we’re doing now. I thought we’d continue to go out and let the future take care of itself. It’s not like I was thinking as soon as high school was over I’d stop seeing you. In all honesty, I simply haven’t thought that far in advance. But, I think in the back of my mind, I assumed it would be you and me... until we either got married or whatever.”
She beamed up at him, her tears shimmering in the chilly lunar light. “It was stupid to ask,” she insisted, “but your answer was better than I should have expected.” She hugged him tight, and it felt good. He found it wonderfully normal to be dealing with a problem in a relationship. He could work it out in his mind and heart and be honest and say something that made a difference. There was a sort of awkward control to it all. This was real life; this was what people should grapple with on a regular basis, not the forces of good and evil that could rock the planet. Give him this anytime, and leave the magic and demons for someone else.
***
By the time Darren arrived home, it was a little after eleven. He was certain he’d be in trouble, but dutifully opened his parent’s bedroom door and reported in. His mother mumbled something to him about the time but rolled over and went back to sleep. That should be sufficient; if she asked the next day, he’d be able to truthfully tell her he’d come in and told her he was home. If she asked the time, he’d vaguely hedge the issue.
As he approached his bedroom, he was startled by a small, ghostly image guarding the way. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be his sister, Crissy in her nightgown. But it was a measure of how stressful the day had been that her small sleepy form had frightened him.
“Crissy, what are you doing out of bed?”
“I’m supposed to tell you to talk to Grandpa,” she said. Having delivered her message, she padded off down the hall to her room. He couldn’t help smiling as he watched her small white form as it retreated from him.
Tired as he was, he headed back downstairs to his grandfather’s room. He couldn’t believe his little sister had stayed up so late to pass that message on to him. Atavus should have written a note and had her leave it on his door or pillow. Once he’d arrived at his grandfather’s bedroom, he knocked softly and slipped inside.
The gleam of his grandfather’s medical equipment was all that lit the room and caused the objects it glinted off to glow with a ghostly green hue. Darren’s first response was to shuffle back out the way he’d come, but he heard his grandfather stir and realized he’d woken him up.
“Darren,” Atavus’s wispy voice asked in the darkness. “Is that you?”
“Yeah, sorry to disturb you. You feel okay?”
“I haven’t felt okay for months.” He followed this with a wheezy little laugh. “Don’t worry yourself.”
They both listened for the other to say something. At last, Darren asked, “Did you want to talk to me?”
“There’s so much I need to explain to you still, but I’m quite tired right now.”
“Oh, sorry. Crissy told me to come talk to you; I thought there was something you needed to tell me.”
“Really? Your sister told you I needed to talk to you?”
“Yeah. She was outside my bedroom door waiting for me and told me to come talk to you.”
“Hmm,” Atavus considered. “That’s interesting.”
“You don’t have anything to say?”
After a moment Atavus said, “There is something that’s been concerning me since you saw that witch at school. You said she was young, correct?”
“Yes,” Darren replied.
“And has she appeared to you anymore?”
“Well, not like she did in the gym. She’s now going to my school.”
Atavus fumbled about and sat up in bed. “She’s now posing as a student at your school?” He moved something around, and Darren could hear him breathing hard through his oxygen mask. “Turn on the light, boy.”
Darren groped for the switch, and the room filled with light so bright they both squinted.
“Have you had any interactions with her? Is she in one of you
r classes?”
“Yeah,” Darren replied. “She sits in front of me during English and joins me and my friends for lunch.”
“Oh, dear! How could you associate with it?” Atavus began coughing again. He brought the mask to his face and inhaled deeply.
“She’s just a girl. She seems nice.”
“She seems nice. She seems nice,” Atavus mocked. “They are dangerous! You have to destroy her!”
“Are you kidding me? You expect me to just go up to her at school and kill her?”
“If that’s what it takes, yes!”
“Atavus, did you ever destroy a witch who hadn’t first come after you? Have you actually come up behind a witch, who’s done nothing to you, and just killed her?”
Atavus was quiet for a moment. “No, but I wouldn’t hesitate to. Darren, witches do the bidding of Satan. They are devils! If you can kill a witch before it works its spells on you, so much the better!” Atavus broke into some strenuous coughing. When it subsided, he went on. “Have you drunk anything she has given you?”
“What?”
“Has she offered you anything that you’ve eaten or drunk?”
Darren thought it over. “No, nothing.”
“How about smells, odors of any kind, do you remember anything strange?”
“No, Atavus, nothing at all.”
“Could have caused you to forget it,” the old man mumbled. “Physical contact, has she touched you or have you touched her?”
“No,” Darren said. “I haven’t...” He trailed off. He’d touched her hair in class. Mike had made fun of him for it. “Wait, I did touch her. Her hair was on my desk and I... touched it.”
“Touched it,” Atavus considered. “Did you smell it?”
“I don’t, wait, I can’t remember. I don’t think so, but I’m not sure.”
“Uh-huh, uh-huh.” The old man grunted. “We’d better check.”
“Check what?” Darren asked.
“Get that bag out of the closet again. I need something.”
Remembering its location this time, Darren quickly retrieved it and put it on his grandfather’s bed.
“Search through it again. There is another box, below the one you got me the other day, that is much like the first one. Give it to me.”
Darren did as his grandfather had instructed him and placed the box on the bed. It was like the last one, very old with rusty hinges and a small padlock keeping it from being opened. Atavus worked the dials until the lock opened with a click.
There was not a book inside this box. It was lined with ivory-colored linen, yellowed with age, and in the box were three containers. The first was a pretty white porcelain bottle, trimmed with blue lines and small images of animals. It was topped with a porcelain stopper ringed in cork. The second container was of cleverly cut crystal and contained a dark liquid that seemed to be moving behind the glass with periodic sparkles that flickered as it sloshed about. The last container was in a leather pouch knotted at the end. Underneath the three containers were two stones and a silver amulet with a rose-colored diamond in the center, and next to it was something wrapped in an oilcloth.
As Darren examined these oddities, Atavus inhaled deeply on his oxygen. “To begin with, we need to discover if you have been bewitched.”
“If I’ve been bewitched?” This startled Darren. He hadn’t expected anything like this. Nothing had happened to him...yet. How could he be bewitched?
“A smell, a touch, there are ways for them to do it. But, if you have been bewitched, you wouldn’t know it, and you probably wouldn’t remember when it happened. Being bewitched is a little like being a puppet; the witch controls you as long as you are under its influence.”
“You think Samantha has bewitched me?”
“Her name is Samantha?” His grandfather stopped what he was doing and gaped at him.
“Yeah, why?”
“There’s something about the name. Perhaps I’m wrong. It sounds like it should mean something, but I don’t recall.” He turned his attention back to the vials on his lap. He pulled out the long narrow object that was wrapped in the oilcloth. Its handle was ivory with inlaid gold and silver trim. He pulled away the cloth and revealed a long thick blade made of blacken iron.
“What’s that?” Darren asked anxiously.
“It’s called a Secespita. It’s an ancient Roman sacrificial knife. Roman priests would eviscerate their victims with this.” He waved it around, admiring its workmanship. “This is different from any other in that it has been enchanted by a warlock named Stybyx. Over the years, I’ve collected things, as you can tell. In Italy, most Roman artifacts are gone; they’ve been looted and destroyed. In North Africa, Libya, Cyrene to be exact, they have unearthed numerous Greek and Roman ruins which are wonderfully preserved. The Temple of Zeus, built by the Greeks around 600 BC, was unearthed there. It is the largest Greek pantheon outside of Athens. Among the ruins at this site were unearthed six of these Secespitas. Stybyx, I guess you would call him a Roman Warlock, enchanted six of these knives so they not only killed his victims, but would reveal things about them. This knife was enchanted with the spell of Ostendo Sum. It’s a spell that revealed any enchantment another was under. It was important because, to the warlock, if he were to kill one enchanted by another witch or warlock, it broke their law of ownership. A bewitched person is the property of the witch or warlock who put them under the spell.”
Darren stood transfixed as Atavus continued. “Davis and I uncovered this during our travels in Europe. An old witch, by the name of Cholomeah, had left her coven hundreds of years before and had been living as a wise woman in her town. She had come into possession of Stybyx’s knives and other enchanted objects—some others that are in this box, but that is for another time. Now, we’re going to use the Ostendo Sum to see if you are under any enchantment, love addiction, slavery charm, or whatever else they might use against a mortal.”
“I hate to say this, Atavus, but that’s a knife.” Darren swallowed hard. “And knives are used to kill people.”
“Don’t worry boy, and give me your palm.”
Darren was suddenly seized by the powerful conviction that Atavus wasn’t going to check him for some spell, but rather that he had in mind to plunge the dagger into his heart. He backed away, suddenly filled with dread. Atavus no longer looked like a sick old man, bedridden and helpless. His skin had changed to a saggy green and gray hide. He transformed into something appalling. The dark circles under his eyes were no longer the effects of age and fatigue, but the malevolent features of a demon. It was no longer Atavus Darren saw, but the demon which had appeared to the evil warlock over Samantha’s kitchen island.
“What’s the matter boy?” Atavus asked.
“I’ve got to go.” Darren turned toward the door, only, once again, the sight of his little sister in her nightgown stopped him. She gazed up at him and shook her head in a knowing manner.
He now faced two of them, two demons. Both their eyes glowed with a dark light that sent a chill of fear through him so strong he could barely move. He stumbled back into the bedroom because the little girl demon prevented him from escaping by way of the door. The creature in the bed wasn’t going anywhere, but the small one pursued him toward the far wall. He thrashed in fear before falling to the ground. Quickly he scuttled across the ground to the far corner of the room and, panic stricken, found there was nowhere else to go. The little demon walked toward him, her small glowing eyes looking like the portals to hell. He threw his arm across his face and released a long high-pitched wail. He begged for her to spare him. She touched his arm. He had expected his flesh to leap into flame and burn off the bone, but instead it was a pleasant warm feeling that passed from his arm through the rest of his body. Little speckles of blackness filled his vision. A sudden, complete darkness swallowed him.
When Darren came back to his senses he was still sprawled out in the back corner of the room. Everything was out of focus at first. His sister was lying n
ext to him, curled under his arm, asleep. Atavus was out of bed, wobbly but on his feet, gazing down at him with concern and alarm.
Darren shook his head to clear the cobwebs. He brought his hand to his head and saw the mean streak of blood across his palm. Suddenly, a sharp pain throbbed from the wound, and his head cleared.
He sat up quickly and backed away from Atavus.
“It’s alright Darren. It’s all over.”
“What’s all over? What happened?”
Atavas had several things in his hands as he shuffled back to the side of the bed and, with great effort, climbed in. He arranged his covers, set his oxygen mask nearby, and replaced the metal railing that kept him from rolling out of bed. Sitting up, he fiddled with the contents of the box. “You were under a bewitchment.” He showed Darren the Secespitas blade. A green smear of blood ran down the blade.
“What’s that?” Darren hefted Crissy to the foot of Atavus’s bed and gently lay her down.
“That’s your blood. You might have noticed it’s not the right color. That’s how this blade indicates an enchantment. When it hit the blade, it fizzed and bubbled and turned this infected-looking color. The color indicates what kind of a bewitchment you were under. I don’t know what this vile color means. But no matter, I treated the wound with this.” He held up the leather pouch Darren had seen in the box earlier. “Spira, another of Stybyx’s magical paraphernalia. A little of this in the cut, and it severed the enchantment you were under. You’re no longer bewitched. Do you feel any different?”
“I...I don’t think so,” Darren stammered.
“Well, perhaps in time something will occur to you. In the meantime, you have to stay away from that witch. Don’t get too close. Don’t let her touch you. Don’t smell her or eat or drink anything she gives you. I’ll have to train you soon, before it’s too late. You’re going to have to kill her.”
Darren’s blood ran chill. Kill her? Witch or not, he didn’t think he could kill her. Even after she and her aunt had watched that horrible scene with the demon in it, they didn’t seem to merit being killed. But then what if she had bewitched him so he had feelings for her, so that he liked her? She could have done that so he wouldn’t kill her. But if that was the case, it wasn’t due to the bewitchment because he still felt the same. He still liked her, had some sort of feelings for her. Either the enchantment wasn’t broken by what Atavus had done, or his confused feelings for her where real.
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