Bewitched

by Mark Jay Harris

  “And what about my Oracle?” Darren asked. “Atavus told me there would be an Oracle, who is supposed to pass on important information, tell me things I need to know.”

  “That’s true,” Samantha replied. “I’ve watched you and your interactions with other students at school. I thought at first it might be Andrea, but I haven’t seen any sign that she is the one. It’s not necessarily a girl, but it is always someone the Warder trusts, like his Guardian.”

  Without preamble, Serena turned into a cat hissing and spitting as she darted into the family room and sprang out the side window.

  “Come quickly,” Samantha said, leading them toward a staircase down a long interconnecting hallway off the kitchen.

  “What is it?” Darren asked.

  “Serena smelled someone at the window.”

  “How do you know that?” Darren asked as she ushered them up the narrow staircase.

  “We can communicate without speaking. Now get up to the attic, go!”

  She rushed them to a short door at the top of the stairs. After practically pushing them both through, Samantha shut the door and dashed back down the staircase.

  CHAPTER 11

  Double Agent

  For more than a year now, Darren Stevens had bothered Rick Samuelson. Yet, bothered wasn’t quite the right word. Pissed-off was too strong a word for it, but it came close. At first it was his relationship with that hot cheerleader Andrea Mitchell. She had those dark eyes and that hair that framed her face. Basketball players and football players, what a clique of crap, the way they all partied together like the incestuous cluster-snobs they were. But despite this impenetrable social group and his overall dislike for them all, Darren Stevens aggravated him more than the others for some reason. Aggravated, yeah, that was the word.

  Starting this school year, he had been following the Prince of Personality around whenever he could, just to see what the great school jock was up to. How did he spend his nights with his oh-so-cool friends and gaggle of leggy girlfriends? His obsession had become so intense he found the only way he could satiate it was to write down every detail he witnessed in a little notebook he kept with him at all times. He filled pages about Darren’s comings and goings over the school year in these little books. Now that March was at an end and April was on its way, Rick was on his eighteenth notebook.

  Tonight, the two-timing Darren was stepping out on his regular squeeze, the cheerleader, Miss I’m-so-hot-I-melt-steal Mitchell, to go out with the equally hot blonde sensation Miss cute-and-bouncy Samantha Spelling. Some guys get all the cute girls, and by ‘some guys’, Rick meant Darren Stevens. Samuelson dug the pen into the paper and tore it as he finished writing ‘Stevens’ into the pad.

  He followed the jock in his own car, staying far behind him, and then, when he finally stopped at some dump of a house surrounded by trees, he kept on driving so Stevens wouldn’t realize he’d been followed. He’d parked six houses down the side street and crept back on foot, moving from tree to tree, checking for anyone who might be watching him as he made his way to the house.

  By the time he made it back to the old broken-down shack where Stevens had stopped, there was no sign of the pretty-boy. As a matter of fact, as he moved beyond Darren’s car and into the yard, there was no sign of anyone anywhere. The house looked like it was on its last nail, about ready to fall over: no paint, dead weeds everywhere, dead or dying trees ringing the yard, and dark windows in the walls. What was Darren doing here?

  Rick went to the front door, but the rusty handle refused to move when he tried turning it. Silently, he slunk around the side of the house, moving through a dead clump of tree trunks and branches until he ran across a broken window. He peered over the window ledge, but all he saw was darkness. What little he could discern as his eyes adjusted to the inside seemed to be covered in cobwebs and dirt. There were a few broken bits of furniture, torn up linoleum covered in thick dust, and the smell of mold and rot. What was going on here? He listened. Perhaps some sort of “haunted house” dare was going on. He thought he could hear voices, but wasn’t sure. He brushed a long strand of his greasy black hair out of his eyes. Maybe there were some people on the upper floors. What a strange group of people Darren and his posse were!

  Rick had to see what Stevens was up to, but he had no desire to enter this broken-down dump. He was a little scared since he’d always been a bit superstitious. On the other hand, if he couldn’t get down in his little notebook what the basketball captain was up to, he’d be up all night, and most likely sick. That had happened once before when he’d been following Darren and his friends. He’d lost them around a turn. He’d driven all the way from Wellsville in the south, down through Richmond to the north looking for them. He’d gone home and thrown up. The rest of the night, he’d lain in bed shaking and sweating. He couldn’t risk that again.

  He stood up, preparing to swing a leg in through the window, when he was startled by a high-pitched hissing coming from inside the house. He jumped back in fright, but before he could retreat any further, something shot out the window. The next thing he knew, he was on his back with a burning hot pain ripping down his neck. He grabbed for the beast trying to sink its little fangs into his throat. He threw it several feet from where he lay, got up, and scrambled out of the branches, sprinting across the weed-strewn yard.

  As he approached the front fence, he looked back and saw a dark shape emerge from the underbrush, not a cat, but a full-grown human figure. It muttered something and pointed in his direction. He saw a pin-point prick of light, he assumed was a flashlight, glow at the end of the figure’s finger. The last thing he remembered was the light hurling toward him like a meteor streaking across the atmosphere.

  ***

  Darren and Mike found themselves in a slanted roofed attic. It was small, and both had to hunch a bit. The room was dark, but from what they could tell, it was carpeted and had some sort of floral wallpaper. At the opposite end, across from the door, were slatted grills through which heat left the house.

  “This is about the point I’d expect to be waking up,” Mike whispered.

  “Don’t count on it,” Darren replied, keeping quiet as well. “I’ve been trying to wake up since Monday. It just keeps getting deeper and deeper.”

  “What we’ve stepped into, you mean?”

  “Yep.”

  “I can’t believe I meet the girl of my dreams, and she turns out to be a cat. At least your girl is human...ish.”

  “She’s not my girl. I’m not breaking up with Andrea. And your girl is human-ish, too.”

  “I can’t make up my mind if it’s sexy or just plain sick and wrong. Not that it matters because all this is a big dream.” They sat quietly for a few seconds before Mike added, “You’ve got to kill witches. At least I get to have superpowers. Man, am I going to have fun telling you about this in the morning.”

  The door burst open, and Samantha stood backlit by the stairway light.

  “Come on down. We need your help.”

  Darren and Mike followed her down the stairs, through the living room, and out the front door. A light burning on the front porch stretched out about twenty feet from the house before the night swallowed it up. From the porch where Darren and Mike had stopped, it was possible to see who was lying on the lawn about thirty feet in the distance.

  “What the...” Mike muttered.

  “Who is that?” Darren asked.

  The two girls stood over the body. Samantha called back to them. “Help us move him into the house.”

  Reluctantly, the boys left the safety of the porch and joined the girls.

  “It’s Samuelson!” Darren exclaimed.

  “Get him into the house,” Serena demanded. Both reacted to her command, Mike grabbing Samuelson’s arms and Darren his feet. They awkwardly lugged the unconscious form across the lawn, up the porch, and into the living room. Samantha directed them to a couch, and they carefully laid the young man down.

  “What happened to him?
” Darren asked.

  “Serena stunned him.”

  “That’s a handy thing to be able to do,” Mike complimented her. “Almost as good as getting Julander to forget what he’s doing.”

  “It’s not a very powerful spell,” Samantha explained. “He won’t be out for long.”

  Darren gazed down on the inert form. “What was he doing in your yard?”

  “We don’t know,” Samantha replied, “but we have a hunch.”

  Darren and Mike turned their attention on her. She glanced at Serena and then back at them. “He probably followed you here. He must have looked in through the same window you used last night. Not that he saw anything. The blanket spell makes this place look like an old abandoned house to everyone except those invited here. The problem is,” she paused and pursed her lips, “he’s probably under a bewitchment.”

  Darren and Mike shared a look. Mike came to the realization of the situation first. “Well, there’s only one way to find out if he’s bewitched, you know.” He grinned at the two uncomfortable witches. Darren chuckled as it dawned on him what this meant.

  Both girls looked at each other, their unwillingness apparent in their eyes. If they could read each other’s thoughts as Samantha had said earlier, Darren was sure that right now they were both arguing inside each other’s head: “You do it!” “No, you do it!”

  At length, Samantha gritted her teeth and sucked in. “All right, I’ll do it.”

  Darren couldn’t help thinking, What’s the point in having a familiar if you can’t get her to do the dirty work?

  Serena, however, pushed her aside. “No, it should be me.” Before Samantha could stop her, Serena leaned over Samuelson and shook him.

  “Hey,” he said groggily. “You’re that new girl.” He looked into Serena’s brown eyes.

  Before he could go on any further, Serena asked him, “So, uh, do you want to make out?”

  Samuelson didn’t answer, just awkwardly smiled and gawked at the other people in the room, not believing his good fortune.

  Serena kissed the greasy-haired young man. He lay there like a lump, no doubt enjoying the moment, but not sure what to do while a beautiful girl gave him the kiss of a lifetime, magically enhanced.

  Her chore completed, Serena stood up and grimaced. She looked down on Samuelson whose eyes remained closed while a dazed smile played on his lips. “Somnus Statim,” she hissed, waving her hand over his face, while scrubbing at her lips with her other.

  Samuelson’s expression didn’t change in the least, but it was obvious from his long, sonorous breathing that Serena had put him to sleep.

  “Well, tell us what you found out,” Samantha said.

  “He’s definitely been bewitched.” She turned to Darren. “He’s been following you for some time now, reporting on your every move: everything you say, who you see, what they say to you. He’s telling somebody all about it.”

  “Is there any way to find out who he’s reporting to?” Darren inquired.

  “Unfortunately, no. We can’t even remove the bewitchment.”

  “Wait a second,” Samantha interjected. “We can’t remove the spell, but Darren can.”

  “Right,” Mike agreed. “Same way Atavus removed your bewitchment, Dare.”

  Darren looked unsure. “I don’t know. Those are Atavus’s things. I don’t want to go messing around with his stuff.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding!” Mike snapped. “Dude, this slime ball is reporting on you to some witch or warlock, and you’re worried about nabbing some of your grandfather’s stuff?”

  “It’s just that, I’d rather include Atavus in what’s going on. He’d understand and could probably help us.”

  Samantha placed her hand on his arm. “I understand your feelings for your grandfather, but I don’t think we have the time to explain, and probably convince Atavus, that what we plan to do is a good thing. You’re working with witches now. Atavus isn’t going to be happy about it. Like it or not, we can’t involve him, but we really need the powder. This decision is yours.”

  “No, it’s not!” Mike retorted. “I know my way around his house, and they’ll let me in.”

  “Wait,” Darren interrupted. “I’ll do it. I’ll do it. But at some point, I want Atavus to know about you and what we’re doing.” He looked at Samantha. “You’re right; he does hate witches, and it would take forever to convince him.”

  Darren started toward the door when Samantha stopped him. “Where are you going?”

  “I thought we just settled that.”

  “Oh, I see. You were going to drive. Driving is fun, but we want to get this done quickly.”

  “No way!” Mike stepped forward, his eyes alight. “Can you beam him over to his house?”

  Samantha and Serena exchanged a puzzled look.

  “Star Trek, transporter technology,” Mike grumbled. “You’ve never heard of this? Make him appear at his own house?”

  “Oh, quantric-transference. We call it stepping,” Samantha said. “Unfortunately stepping is a lost art as well; no one has been able to perform it since before the Great Deluge.”

  “What did you have in mind?” Darren moved closer to her. “A spell of some sort, I assume.”

  “First,” Samantha said, “I’m going to cover you with a blind-man spell. That’s what I was using that day you saw me at the basketball game.”

  “Okay, but remember, I was able to see you. If I saw you, then Atavus will be able to see me.”

  “True, but no one else will. We don’t want you to be seen by anyone. I’m hoping Atavus will be asleep, and if he isn’t, we might have to help him. Now, please stand over there by the fireplace.”

  Darren did as he was requested.

  Looking directly at him Samantha incanted, “Exoculatus”. As soon as the word was spoken, she wiggled her nose. A chill ran up Darren’s spine, making him shiver.

  “Ooh,” he said. “There’s that feeling again.”

  “Whoa!” Mike exclaimed. “That was out of sight! If you’ll pardon the pun.”

  “What is it, Darren?” Samantha asked.

  “I think every time a spell is cast, I feel a chill,” Darren replied.

  “Yes,” Samantha said, “Warders are supposed to be able to tell when a spell is cast. I didn’t know how it would manifest itself with you. Apparently, it’s a chill.”

  “Other than that, what was supposed to happen?” Darren continued.

  “It happened, you just can’t tell. Ask Mike.”

  “What happened, Mike?”

  “Darren, you disappeared! I can’t see you. I can hear you, so I assume you haven’t moved from in front of the fireplace, but you are invisible, dude.”

  “Seriously?”

  “It’s called the blind-man spell because it makes others blind to you,” Samantha explained. “You can still see yourself, but no one else can...except, perhaps another Warder.”

  “So, you can’t see me either?” Darren asked her.

  “No, the spell works on humans and witches alike.”

  “Hey, what was the deal with your nose? Right after you cast the spell, I swear I saw your nose wiggle.”

  “Oh, yes.” Samantha looked somewhat embarrassed.

  “When a witch performs a spell,” Serena explained, “she must cast the spell with a gesture. Samantha is a rare kind of witch who can cast the spell by twitching her nose. She’s a naricaster.”

  “I always thought it looked silly, but, apparently, it’s an advantage,” Samantha admitted. “There’s a reason, but now is not the time to explain it. I’m going to cast the spell on myself and include the deafening part of the spell. When it’s completed, Mike and Serena will not be able to see us or hear us.”

  Serena returned from the kitchen with an ancient looking broom made with a rough stout stick and a bundle of coarse twigs for sweeping. “Here, you’ll need this.”

  “A witch’s broom?” Mike goggled at the primitive looking device.

  “The b
esom,” Serena corrected him.

  “It’s made of Hazel wood, the only wood that accepts the flying charm.” Samantha took the besom. She moved over by the fireplace and reached out for Darren. “Take my hand.”

  He did as he was told. As soon as she felt it, she said, “Exoculatus obsurdescere” and moved her hand quickly up and down her own body.

  “Man, that’s cool!” Mike enthused. He turned to Serena. “Do that to me!”

  “No, this is something they must do. You and I will play later.”

  “So they can’t see or hear us?” Darren asked.

  “No. The only reason we can see and hear each other is because we were touching when I cast the last spell. I was taken into your spell, and you were taken into mine. Now, what we’re going to do next will require us to go outside.”

  Darren wondered what Mike was thinking when he saw the door open and then shut all by itself. He wanted to ask him, continue sharing all this craziness with his friend. It helped to have someone else to talk with who was as blown away as he was.

  Samantha led him to the middle of the yard. She straddled the broom. “Come on. Get on behind me, and put your arms tightly around my waist.”

  He did as he was told, feeling silly, giddy, and pleased to have his arms around her.

  Samantha said, “Volatus caerulum,” and Darren was thrown backwards, almost off the broom.

  At first, he thought the earth had fallen away beneath his feet. In reality, he’d just flown off the ground. They rose so quickly that the pull of gravity felt like zipping up a long climb on a rollercoaster. Unlike a rollercoaster, he didn’t have a crash bar locked across his waist, and there was nothing under his feet. He was sure he was going to slip off. He told himself to stop worrying, but it was just too freaky. As for looking down, it was terrifying. In no time at all, they were a hundred feet up, looking down on Samantha’s rooftop. Darren had looked out of an airplane window before and found it exhilarating, but he’d always felt safe strapped in his seat.

  Why aren’t we spinning around this stupid skinny stick? They should’ve been hanging upside down hundreds of feet in the air. How was she keeping them upright?