“I don’t think so,” Serena replied. “Unless you were planning on casting a beauty-spell, I think we’re done with this one.”
“You’re sure he won’t remember anything that happened tonight?” Darren asked.
“He won’t. Don’t worry. I’ll send him to Andrea’s house, where you’re supposed to be, by the way. He’ll think he followed you there. Then, he’ll report in and leave me a message about all that happens. From this point forward, he’ll report only what I want him to report, and it will never include you and me. Except for tonight, because he knew we were studying together this evening, and that’s all we did, as far as he’s concerned.”
She smiled, and he smiled back. Darren found himself wishing he didn’t have to go to Andrea’s. He truly believed Samantha had not used magic to bewitch him into liking her, but, well, perhaps there was just magic in the air.
CHAPTER 12
Near Death
The clunker got Darren to Andrea’s house quickly. His mind was still on his adventures with Samantha. How was he ever going to keep all this from Andrea? And how fun was rollerblading going to be compared to flying on the back of witch’s broom? Well, not too bad, he reasoned, since flying had been one of the most unnerving experiences of his life.
Andrea rushed from her house to his car. The night had turned cold, and Darren had the heater running full blast when she climbed in. He’d just started driving toward the Fun Center when she asked, “Do you like these boots?” She was wearing ankle high tan boots and tan knee-length shorts with little tied bows. It seemed crazy to Darren to be wearing them in this weather, but she did have nice legs, so he wasn’t complaining. She plopped one leg up on his seat.
“Nice,” he replied, appreciating her adorable bare kneecap.
“Eyes on the road, Mister,” she teased, removing her leg from his seat.
“What did you think of Mike’s fight today?” Darren asked.
“I saw it from behind a lot of people, but I could not believe it. When he hit David with that chair, I thought I’d die—and Strathmore, too. Mike’s better at Kung Fu than I gave him credit for.”
“It’s Taekwondo,” Darren corrected her.
“Whatever, it was impressive. Has he ever done anything like that before?”
“I don’t think he’s ever been in an actual fight. Not where he’s used his Taekwondo. He’s been in little scrapes when we were younger, and, of course, he’s practiced fighting for hours in class. Man, I wish I’d seen it. Everyone I’ve talked to said it was the coolest thing that’s happened all year. And everyone wants to know how he escaped suspension for it. The last thing everybody saw was Julander barreling toward the fight.”
“That’s true. How did he do that? Escaping suspension has got to be the most incredible thing that’s happened all year. Julander showed up, and we all scattered. Why wasn’t Mike suspended or put in detention? After seeing Julander’s face, I can’t believe he wasn’t expelled.”
“I don’t know,” Darren lied. Before leaving Samantha’s house, he’d been told about Serena’s memory spell. “But you know Mike. He could talk his way out of armed robbery while holding a smoking gun.”
“He does have a certain... something,” she conceded. They drove for a while, listening to the radio, then Andrea said, “Lindsey likes him, you know.”
He turned toward her. “I knew it! I could tell.” He’d been suspecting as much for a while. Lindsey has been showing more and more interest in Mike lately. “Remember that karate match they had on Monday?”
“Taekwondo,” she corrected him, and they both laughed.
“But, I guess he’s made it clear he has a girlfriend now, that Jamaican girl.”
“Uh, right, Serena.”
“So, that’s her name, huh?”
“Yeah, you saw her in the cafeteria the other day, remember?”
“How could I forget? They’re perfect for each other. She’s completely glamorous, and he thinks he’s God’s gift to women. It’s a match made in heaven.”
“I know Linds has got to be disappointed, but Mike’s just this way. He saw Serena and couldn’t help himself. He likes a challenge, and she presented a challenge.”
“Some challenge, he won her over on her second day.”
“Yeah, but he had to take out half the football team to do it.”
The chirping of Darren’s cell phone interrupted them. Caller I.D revealed ‘Dad’ on its screen. Darren frowned. What would his dad want with him right now? “Hey, Dad, what’s up?” He shifted the phone to his other ear and drove left-handed.
“Darren, buddy, I’m sorry to call in the middle of your date, but something’s happened.” The tone of Dad’s voice caused Darren’s stomach to knot. Suddenly the road was replaced by the image of his father’s despondent face. “Your grandfather went into respiratory failure, son. I did everything I could. The paramedics rushed him off, and I’m on my way over to the hospital right now. Crissy’s with me. He was still alive when the paramedics took him away, but they had to help him breathe.”
“What is it, Darren?” Andrea asked.
Darren had almost forgotten she was there. “It’s Atavus. He was taken to the hospital. I’ve got to go there now.” Into the phone he said, “I’m on my way, Dad.”
“Do you want me to come?” Andrea placed a sympathetic hand on his leg.
Darren simply nodded.
***
Clara knew, approximately, where the old and very famous Atavus lived. She had a hunch about the old Pessum Ire and thought she’d go check it out. Using her cane, which was made of Hazel wood, she flew under cover of a blind-man’s spell, and landed softly in the Stevens’s backyard. She knew it was more than likely he would see her, so even though she was invisible to others, she decided to look in through the window as discretely as possible.
The famous Warder looked peaked and drawn, but whatever his ailment, it wasn’t stopping him from playing a game of cards with his granddaughter. She was an interesting child. She had the facial features of someone with a mental disability, and yet, there was something about her that left Clara wondering what lay beyond her physical appearance. Some hard to define quality emanated from her like an aura.
Evoking an entendu spell, she could suddenly hear the conversation going on inside the house.
“Do you have any sevens?” the young girl asked.
“Go fish, Crissy, you little worm; you’ve just about drained me.”
“Your turn, Grandpa,” Crissy reminded him.
“I’m going, I’m going. Do you have any fours?”
She handed him one. Atavus was delighted. “Now, I’m only three sets behind you.” Atavus set the match with the others. He looked casually at his cards, then asked off handedly, “Crissy, do you know what an Oracle is?”
Clara gasped upon hearing this question. But the little girl continued to gaze at her cards and asked, “Do you have any tens?”
Sighing, the old witch hunter grimaced and looked down at his cards.
A blank look overcame the girl’s features, and she said, “Tonight a big man is going to come and try to kill you. The witch at the window could help you, but she’ll be too scared and will fly away.”
“What, child?” Atavus was already white, but what color he still had drained from his face. “Crissy, did you say there is a witch at the window?”
Clara had been so surprised by the child’s comment that she’d forgotten she was standing in plain sight. He gazed straight at her through the glass. She could sense the power building in him. He may be sick and dying, but he could still kill her.
As the Warder’s eyes grew wide, she cast a spell at him. The wide eyes immediately slammed shut, and the cards in his hand fluttered to the ground as he slumped over into unconsciousness.
Crissy picked up Atavus’s cards, undisturbed by his sudden drop into sleep. She slid off the side of the bed and approached the window, looking directly into Clara’s eyes. “They won’t be here for a
couple of minutes, would you like to play first?”
Clara shook her haggard face. “I must go now.”
Crissy shrugged, walked across the room, picked up a doll on the bedside table, and went out the door, shutting off the light.
Clara stood motionless for a second, thinking she might help in a small way. She couldn’t cure him, but she knew a protection spell that might strengthen him for a while. She cast the spell as he slept.
The sound of a police siren wailed on the other side of the house. Fear turned the old woman’s blood cold. She lifted off the ground, astride her cane, and shot off into the dark sky.
***
“He’s been teaching him!” Julander bellowed into the cell phone. “The mole just told us.”
“Has anything happened tonight?” the voice on the other end of the phone asked.
“Nothing, he did some homework and went on a date with his girlfriend. That’s where he is now. But, I’m roping him in. The grandfather has to go, if he has time to instruct the boy, it could be disastrous. I’ll take care of the old man. Prepare a pick-up for the kid.”
“I’ll send Vanderhoff.”
Julander jammed the button on his cell phone and glared accusingly at the wall. He opened a desk drawer and pulled out an envelope. Inside was a lethal poison. Not as powerful as Witches’ Powder, but enough to finish off the old man.
***
Logan Regional Hospital served residents of northern Utah, southeastern Idaho, and western Wyoming. In addition to an advanced Cancer Center and Women and Newborn Center, it boasted advanced technology as well as highly skilled doctors and nurses capable of caring for a host of medical emergencies.
Atavus was in critical condition and had been moved to a room in the Intensive Care Unit. When Darren entered the room, he found his father beside the hospital bed, holding Atavus’s hand. He’d seen his grandfather hooked up to medical equipment before, but this was the first time Atavus had been intubated by an endotracheal tube that reached down through his larynx in order to breathe for him. Two plastic tubes stretched up over the old man’s head to the side of the hospital bed where they joined with a machine that regulated his respiration.
Darren’s father looked back at him with a sad smile. “He’s unconscious at the moment; the doctors sedated him. He had a difficult last hour.”
Darren looked down on Atavus, wondering how he had gone from sleeping an hour ago to this alarming condition. “What happened, Dad?”
“From what I can tell, someone broke into the house. I heard the sound of breaking glass come from his room. I dropped what I was doing and ran back to him. The window was broken, glass was all over the floor; your grandfather was sitting upright, white as a sheet and not breathing. Usually your mother handles these kinds of emergencies. Still, I put the medicine in his nebulizer, like I’ve seen her do, and put the cup up to his mouth. He tried, but I don’t think he was able to inhale it. Crissy, bless her heart, called 911, and the paramedics got there quickly.” As he looked down on his ailing father, tears formed in his eyes. “They intubated him on the spot and are pretty sure he suffered no brain damage.”
Darren continued to look at his grandfather. A dizzy feeling crept over him. He sensed he might be hyperventilating; his fingers began to tingle. “Where’s Mom?”
“She’s on her way. She was with a patient of her own when all this happened. I called her before calling you.”
“How long will he be on the ventilator?”
Dad shook his head. “They don’t know, but it doesn’t look good. He may never be able to breathe on his own again. They’re going to do tests, but they don’t sound hopeful. Crissy’s out in the waiting room. Would you mind checking on her?”
“Andrea’s out there with her,” Darren said, “but I’ll go check on her.”
In the waiting room, a television was mounted on the side wall. It was off at the moment, and the room was silent. Chairs ran the length of the wall with identical chairs on the opposite side facing them. That way, Darren figured, the grief stricken relatives could stare at each other while they waited for their loved ones to live or die.
Andrea was sitting at the second seat on one side, and Crissy was at the far end talking to her doll.
“Why didn’t you sit next to her?” Darren asked.
“I did, but she got up and went down to the other end. So, I went down to that end and asked her about her doll, but she got up and came here. I came here, and she went down there. I don’t think she likes me.”
“She’s just upset. She doesn’t really know you well. She probably thought you were a stranger trying to sit next to her, so she just moved.”
“How’s Atavus?”
“He’s on a ventilator. Dad says they don’t think he suffered any brain damage.”
“Don’t, it’s a trap!” Crissy hissed at her doll. Darren and Andrea looked at her. “Don’t you understand?” Crissy shook the doll. “It’s a trap. Now, you stay right here.” She set the doll on the chair next to her and shook a finger at her. “Don’t trust strangers.”
“I think she must not recognize you; that was all it was.” Darren grimaced wonderingly at his sister. His eyes stayed on her. “She really loves Atavus. This is very hard on her.”
A middle aged woman in a white smock poked her head in the waiting room. “Are you Darren? Darren Stevens?”
Darren looked back toward the door. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry to interrupt you, but your father was unable to help us by registering your grandfather with the hospital. They rushed in here, and your father has stayed with him the whole time. Would you be able to give us some information so we can get him all squared away?”
“I’ll do what I can. I know he’s on Medicare, other than that I can give you our address and that sort of thing.”
“I appreciate that,” the woman said.
“I’ll be right back. Keep an eye on Crissy, will you?”
“Of course,” Andrea promised.
Darren followed the nurse from the room, expecting her to stop at the nurses’ station around the corner. It was complete with computers and extraneous equipment he assumed would be used for all the paperwork related to the patients. The nurse, however, directed him down another hall into an unlabeled room adjacent to a lab.
“I assume you’re familiar with the phrase: Somnus Statim?” She flicked her fingers at him, and sparks shot from them.
Darren staggered forward, hit by a wave of fatigue so powerful he stumbled. He wobbled for a moment, fighting to stay up. He found himself on his knees with no memory of dropping to them. Darkness sucked at him, and his tired body was losing its ability to resist. He found he wanted nothing more than to simply drop down into sleep. “Sam,” he managed to get out before going face down onto the floor.
***
“I’m sorry, my pet.” Clara wandered about the living room confused and upset. “I was too afraid to stay.”
Samantha took her by the arm in an attempt to calm her. “It’s all right, Dear One. Whatever it was, I’m sure it will be all right.”
“I was afraid to use magic outside of the blanket spell. When the Warder saw me, I thought for sure he’d strike from his sickbed. I acted without thinking. I put him under a somnulus; I thought he’d be fine. But the little girl said he was to be attacked after I flew away. I should have stayed.”
Samantha escorted her aged aunt to a draped seat in the living room and made her sit down. “I’ll get you a drink.”
“My dear,” Clara continued, “I flitted about like a bug. I was so foolish. Finally, I recovered myself and returned. By that time, I saw the emergency vehicles all around. I was too late.”
“Dear One.” Samantha kneeled at the side of her chair and took her hands. “You can’t blame yourself. This is not your fault. The small child you saw, I’m certain she’s Darren’s Oracle. If the Oracle said you were going to fly away, there was nothing you could do about it.”
“She said I wou
ld be scared and fly away. And I was scared! I’m almost eight-hundred and fifty years old, but still, I was scared. After I returned, the window was broken, and I smelled Near-Death in the room.” A hollow look of fear filled her eyes as she recalled what had happened.
“What is Near-Death?”
“I didn’t believe it still existed. It’s much like Witches’ Powder, but it doesn’t attack the lungs. It goes after the nervous system and shuts it down. I put a shield on him; perhaps it bought him some time, but I don’t know.”
Samantha jumped to her feet. “If he was attacked by this Near-Death, then a warlock tried to kill him!” Samantha darted into the kitchen and pulled out her cell phone. She dialed the number she knew would put her in touch with Samuelson. He answered on the third ring.
“Yeah?” he snarled into the phone.
“Tack,” Samantha said. She knew he had just slipped into a heavily suggestive state-of-mind that would open him up to her. It was the reporting feature of the bewitchment he was under. “I need you to tell me what you told your handlers happened tonight when you last called them.”
A flat voice responded. He repeated back the story she’d fed him.
“Is that all you told them?”
“No, I told them about last night as well. Darren’s grandfather started teaching him about Pessum Ire and their history and about Guardians and Oracles and what they do.”
“What?” Samantha exclaimed. “You don’t report in every night?”
“Every other, unless we have a meeting,” the flat voice replied.
“Did the witches tell you what their plan was?”
“They need the Key of Endor. It’s the only way to retrieve the Grimoire of Moloch.”
“Do they know who the Key of Endor is?”
“They suspect it might be you, but they can’t be sure. They’d been expecting a much older witch, at least a couple hundred years old. But they really don’t know. They also believe you might be an agent for Endor, sent to retrieve the Grimoire and bring it to her in the Appensus.”
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