“What are you thinking about?” Atavus sank back into his pillow. His exertions had worn him out.
“Nothing, I was just wondering.” He glimpsed the sleeping form of his sister curled up on Atavus’s bed. “Why did Crissy come back in here, and what did she do to me? It’s kind of a blur.”
Weakly, Atavus said, “You got very agitated. You went kind of mad on me and refused to submit to the Ostendo Sum. I thought you were going to run from the room, but suddenly Crissy was there with her arm stretched out to you. You ran from her like she was the devil. She got to you and touched you, and you passed out. Then, the little stinker told me I could do what I needed to do. I managed to climb out of this bed and complete the Ostendo Sum. In the meantime, Crissy cuddled up with you and just fell asleep.”
“That’s weird.”
“Yes, it is,” Atavus agreed. “It was very peculiar.”
Darren picked his sleeping sister up off the bed. “I know you’re tired, Atavus, but what am I going to do tomorrow at school? I can’t avoid her; she’s in my first period.”
“As long as she doesn’t know you’re a Pessum Ire, you should be safe. Just don’t touch her and don’t sniff anything. Don’t eat or drink...” His voice trailed off as he drifted away in sleep.
Darren carried Crissy back to her bed, then trudged up the stairs to his own room. So much had happened today; his mind whirled from one thought to another. He was certain he’d never get to sleep, as image after image took turns performing on the stage inside his mind. But after a couple encores, fatigue came out for a curtain call, and at last, the audience was sent home and the hot lights in the theater in his head went out.
CHAPTER 9
Turf War
“We gotta talk!”
Mike appeared to the side of Darren’s locker like he’d suddenly risen out of the ground.
“What about?” Darren scanned the crush of students in the hallway for any sign of Samantha.
“You know all that spooky stuff you thought Samantha was up to?”
“Yeah.” Darren nodded, now focusing on Mike.
“Yesterday, I hung out with Serena, the new girl.”
“Oh, how’d that go?”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” Mike regarded the mass of students like he was looking for someone. “Serena did some real freaky stuff yesterday. I swear she controlled the basketball.”
“That’s not necessarily freaky. Maybe she’s just a natural.”
“No, not like she was a good ball handler; I mean she made it move, without touching it. There’s something real freaky about her.”
Darren stared hard at Mike; he didn’t look so good, like he hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, either. A horrible thought occurred to him. “Mike, she might be a witch, too. You’ve got to stay away from her!”
“A witch?” Mike wrinkled his brow, considering this. “Magic...that’s what it seemed like. But a witch? Uh, Dare, that sounds pretty... whacked out.”
“Mike, I’ve seen some real serious stuff.” Darren shut his locker and motioned for Mike to follow him to an empty alcove that led to an exit. “I don’t know how to explain it all. I followed Samantha home yesterday and peered inside her window.”
Mike pursed his lips, and his brows lifted in surprise. “Normally, I’d say something pithy right now, but this time, I’ll let it go.”
“She lives with her aunt. And, in their kitchen, the old lady was working around a cauldron. I am not kidding. It was boiling and bubbling, and she did some spell thing. Then, Samantha did her own spell that summoned her mother, and I heard her voice talk out of thin air. And she sounded eerie, like—well, like a wicked witch. I mean, totally evil. It was like a bad dream. Her voice made the house shake. But that’s not the really scary part.
“Then Samantha made these black stones fly through the air from her basement. Her aunt had her place one on the kitchen island, and all this creepy stuff came out of it. It was like watching a 3-D movie playing in the air above the kitchen island. There was this scary dude in a black robe and cape, and he called up a demon, and the demon talked about this prophecy, and finally he said something about the ‘Warder at the window.’ And that was me!”
Mike eyed him. “Okay, you sound totally nuts! You realize that, right? And what is a Warder?”
“I swear it all happened. I saw Samantha floating during the basketball game because I’m a Warder. Apparently, I have a long history of them in my family. Because I’m a Warder I can see through some spells witches cast. It’s like they don’t completely work on me; but some do, like the bewitchment.”
“Wait, slow down, Darren.”
The late bell for first period rang. They glanced about, finding themselves alone in the hall.
“That’s why you’ve got to stay away from Serena if she’s a witch; and that’s why I’ve got to stay away from Samantha. Last night Atavus had to undo the bewitchment on me.”
“Atavus?” Mike shook his head. “Your crazy grandfather is involved in all this? I should’ve known. Darren, you’re screwin’ with me. This is all a big joke to you! Very funny.”
“I’m not screwing with you, Mike. Atavus is a Pessum Ire, too.”
“Back it up for a second. You’re going too fast for me. Let’s say you’re not screwin’ with me. What is a Pessum Ire?” Mike scrubbed a palm across his forehead.
“The reason Atavus knows all this stuff is because he’s hundreds of years old. All his stories we’ve listened to are his real past experiences, or based on them. A Pessum Ire is a Warder; they’re the same thing. As a Pessum Ire, or Warder, we can ward off the spells of witches. And our mission is to kill witches...with fire.”
“Darren, you’re really freaking me out! You sound crazy! None of what you’re saying can be true. Look, all I saw her do was make some unexplainable shots. But witchcraft? That’s Tiffany Epiphany’s domain. Atavus has finally broken you; that’s all. And me, I’m just confused.”
Mike stomped off down the empty hall toward their first period class. Darren followed him. Mike continued to rant over his shoulder. “There’s some explanation for what she did with the ball. It certainly wasn’t witchcraft. I can’t believe you’d suddenly say all this is explained by magic. Your grandpa’s crazy! And so are you!”
Mike stopped, turned, and stared at Darren. Neither one said anything for a few seconds. Darren could see the doubt creep across Mike’s face. Mike stepped toward him. “You really believe all this crap, don’t you?”
Darren grabbed his friend’s arm. “It hasn’t been easy, but I’ve seen too much. There’s something going on around here. Atavus has this ancient knife that was used by the Romans when they did human sacrifices. This one, however, belonged to a warlock named Stybyx, and he enchanted it with this power to detect when someone’s been bewitched. If you’re bewitched, a witch can make you do stuff and you don’t even know you’re doing it. My blood came out green, so Atavus had to cure me.”
“Uh-huh. Don’t tell me, he sprinkled salt on you?”
“No,” Darren insisted. “I’m serious. He had all this weird stuff inside a duffle bag.” He stopped, realizing Mike wasn’t listening. “Okay, then how do you explain the stuff you saw with Serena?”
“I don’t know, but it wasn’t witchcraft. There’s some way she did it; some Jamaican voodoo maybe, but it wasn’t witchcraft. And your grandfather isn’t hundreds of years old.”
They stood outside their first period classroom. Mr. Whitmore’s slight British accent carried outside the room. He glanced at them through the glass in the door and motioned for them to come in.
Ignoring the teacher, Mike said, “She did something to one of my shots as well. Somehow, she did something.”
They opened the door and went to their seats. Darren knew Mike was teetering. He was beginning to actually consider witchcraft was somehow behind all this. Darren knew how he felt. It had been difficult for him to accept as well. Mike needed time. He’d be forced into bel
ieving it just as Darren had.
This was a new wrinkle, this new girl, Serena, also being a witch. That compounded Darren’s problems. Atavus would expect him to kill her, too. His world was turning into a slasher movie, and he was the one wielding the chainsaw.
These thoughts tormented him for several minutes before he realized Samantha was sitting in front of him. She mouthed, “Hi,” as he sat in his seat, and he gave her a little wave before he realized what he was doing.
Mr. Whitmore had been speaking to him for several moments before Darren began to hear what he was saying. “You’ll be missing enough school next week, boys; you don’t need to miss any of my class today. Now, as I was saying, the group oral reports on The Crucible will be on Monday and Tuesday. I doubt I’ll have enough of you in class on Wednesday to make it worth extending out that far. You all know the due date. Be prepared, because this assignment is going to make up a large percentage of your grade. I’m going to give you twenty minutes this morning to work with your partners to go over your plans; you can finish them up over the weekend. All right, you may begin.”
Samantha turned around and faced Darren, her beautiful green eyes alight with excitement. “We’ve got to get started. We haven’t done a thing. Do you have anything in mind?”
“No,” Darren said, keeping as close to the back of his chair as he could.
“I think we should maybe run with the science vs. religion angle I brought up the other day. What do you think?”
“Sounds good,” Darren agreed. “But how do we do that as an oral presentation? Just get up there and mention a lot of facts that show we have faith in science, like you did the other day?”
“Not exactly.” She smiled, and he could feel his mental shield shattering. She couldn’t be evil. There was no way. No one was that good an actress. Had she bewitched him again? No, she couldn’t have. She wasn’t touching him.
“I was thinking we make a poster. We use global warming as the example since we can pull evidence from the 70’s when the leading scientists of the day thought we were heading into a global ice-age. We contrast those two, using newspaper clippings and paste them on the poster. Then, we put together an oral presentation explaining all this and how we react with faith in our beliefs, just as the people at the time of The Crucible. Then, we point out how people make mistakes in their interpretation of supposed truth. Finally, we point out that for centuries, people have believed in witches and that witches have always been antithetical to God.”
“You’ve been giving this a lot of thought. What is antithetical, by the way?”
Samantha laughed. “In opposition to.” She playfully slapped him on the arm.
Darren recoiled with an involuntary “Ah!”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I mean, probably nothing.”
“You’re not getting like the other day are you? You were acting kind of weird yesterday.”
“No. It’s just Andrea and I had this long talk last night, and when you touched me...oh, never mind.”
“You mean this?” She stroked his arm again, only this time letting her touch linger as she walked her fingers up and down his arm. “Don’t tell me she’d be upset by this?”
“No, of course not.” Darren caught Mike giving him a curious look.
Samantha turned forward in her seat and began scribbling something down on a notepad. She turned back toward Darren and handed him the slip of paper. “This is my address and phone number. Come by this afternoon, and we can work on the poster and exactly what we’re going to say in the report and decide who does what. Okay?”
“Sure, what time?”
“Is four okay?”
“Yeah, only, I have a date with Andrea tonight. How long do you think it will take?”
“Oh, I don’t think it will take us all night. What time is your date?”
“I’ll tell her I’ll pick her up at seven. That should give us enough time, don’t you think?”
“That should be perfect.” Her eyes sparkled. “It’s a date.” Her cheeks flushed. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
Darren chuckled a little. “I know what you meant. It is a date, only not one of those kinds of dates.”
“Yeah,” Samantha agreed and quickly turned back around in her seat.
Darren got up and moved to an empty desk by Mike and Travis. “How’s yours coming?”
“It’s coming,” Mike replied. “Travis had this idea about doing a PowerPoint presentation showing all the superstitious things we do today. You know, like Friday the 13th, and not walking under ladders, and avoiding black cats, and how we even make movies about them. It’s not a bad idea.”
“Yeah,” Travis added. “My folks have a digital camera, and we can take pictures, or get some off the Internet and talk about how we’re just as superstitious as they were back in the sixteenth century. I was even thinking about going to a gypsy or calling one of those 1-800 numbers for a psychic reading.” Travis turned back to Mike. “You know what else we should include? Horoscopes. We can get one out of the paper and talk about how people always read those.”
“Yeah, why don’t we include that, too?” Mike said with mock sincerity. “And while we’re at it, why don’t we throw in a black hat with a rabbit climbing out of it.”
“Mike.” Darren grabbed his arm.
Mike pinched the bridge of his nose like he was trying to ward off a headache. He breathed hard. “Okay, Travis, you’re the man. Just get that thing put together, and we’ll talk on Monday about who says what, okay?”
“All right. But stop treating me like crap. I’m trying to do a good job.”
“Ahhh,” Mike groaned. He put a hand on Travis’s shoulder. “Sorry, I’m having a bad day. It is a good idea. Do you want me to do anything?”
“Nah. I can throw it together like you said. Don’t worry about it.”
“Thanks, Travis.”
Darren nodded toward the back of the room, and Mike followed. Grimacing, he asked, “More witch stuff?”
“I’m going over to Samantha’s tonight to work on our assignment.”
“Look, I’m not sure what I think about this witchcraft stuff, okay? Let’s say I have an open mind about it. Let’s pretend Atavus knows what he’s talking about. How do you know if you’ve been bewitched?”
“I don’t think you can know. He had to cut my palm with this special knife.” He held out his left hand where a small gauze pad was taped. He lifted the pad slowly and showed Mike the cut beneath.
“Good grief, Darren! Your grandfather doesn’t screw around when he’s screwing around.”
“You should have seen the blade,” Darren said. “My blood was greenish and yellow. That’s how he knew I’d been bewitched. He put this powder on it to remove the spell.”
Mike shook his head. “This still sounds crazy. Magic knives and magic powders; girls that are witches. Give me time to adjust to this.”
“I know how you feel. I still have trouble with it.”
“So, what prevents Samantha from putting the evil eye back on you tonight?” Mike asked.
“Atavus says witches can do it through a smell or a touch or if they give you something to eat or drink. The spell could be done with any of it.”
“Well that doesn’t give you much wiggle room. How do you avoid all that?”
“I don’t know.” Darren rubbed his arm. “She already touched me a second ago. I’ll probably have to have Atavus cut into my other hand tonight to find out. This whole thing is so freaky. I keep thinking Samantha’s really nice. She doesn’t seem like a witch.” He looked over at her; she was talking with Maddy, the girl who sat in front of her.
“Neither does Serena.”
“And if she is a witch,” Darren continued, “isn’t it possible she’s a good witch?”
“A good witch? Like Glynda?”
Darren laughed, picturing the happy, sparkling witch floating around in a bubble from The Wizard of Oz. Mike chuckled, too. Their goofy laughter
didn’t stop until the whole class was looking at them like they were idiots. Finally, Mr. Whitmore had to say, “You two! Cut it out!”
***
After the cathartic release of tension in first period, Darren decided he wasn’t going to be afraid of Samantha anymore. If she was a witch, she hadn’t shown any signs of doing him harm. And from what he could tell after spying on her at home, it seemed like she was against the other witches—the dangerous ones, like her mom. There was nothing to worry about. And what if she had bewitched him? What was he going to tell her? What did he have that she would want? He didn’t know anything. And if she was making him do things he didn’t know about, it was pointless to worry about it because he didn’t know about it. There didn’t seem to be any gaps during his day where time went missing. No, whatever reason she had for bewitching him, it seemed pointless to let it bother him.
Just the same, when the bell rang for him to go to lunch, he ran outside and used his cell phone to call home. He told Atavus about Samantha touching his arm. His grandfather told him not to worry. The powder he’d used on his hand to counteract the bewitchment also made it impossible for a witch to bewitch him again for a lunar cycle—somewhere around a month. Still, Atavus was adamant that Darren keep his distance. She may not be able to bewitch him again for a while, but there were plenty of other nasty horrible spells witches could cast.
Feeling better, Darren met up with his friends at their table in the lunchroom. Andrea was there, with Lindsey and Sandy. She had saved him a seat next to her. Samantha joined them and started up a conversation with T.J. Mike was missing, which worried Darren a bit.
“Where’s big, black, and hunky?” Darren asked Andrea, squeezing her leg under the table.
She rolled her eyes. “Who cares?”
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