Wicked Warlock

by K. C. Hughes

  “Excuse me father for I did not know,” he said sarcastically.

  “Who do you think gave him the bracelet?” Karri asked.

  “I don’t have a concrete answer for you,” Loro replied. “But everything points to the Oria witches. You see, without a warlock to seed the witches, they cannot a produce a pure blood warlock.”

  “A pure blood, what’s that?” she asked.

  “You see, when the Oria witches mate with mortals, the blood line gets thinned out. When that happens, their powers are weakened.”

  “So in order to save the bloodline, the witches have to marry a warlock?” Deakon asked, trying to wrap his head around the whole warlock/witch thing.

  “They don’t have to marry a warlock, just bed one,” Loro said. “Or, like you kids say, hook up with one.”

  “And you were gonna kill me when I was born so I wouldn’t breed with an ugly green witch and make ugly green babies?” Deakon asked.

  “That is correct, but the Oria witches are far from ugly. And they are not green, either.”

  “So how can you tell who’s a witch?”

  “A normal person cannot distinguish a witch from any other woman. We’ve learned over the centuries that they have a distinct odor that is pleasant amongst themselves and offensive to mortals.”

  “Why doesn’t someone do something?” Deakon asked.

  “How do you fight evil?”

  “Make them commit suicide like Hitler did.”

  “Young Deakon, Hitler didn’t commit suicide. The Family killed him and made it look like suicide.”

  The room turned silent. Deakon or Karri didn’t want to be the first to question the statement about Hitler’s death. Deakon’s mind was saturated with information that he wished he didn’t know. And he wasn’t about to question history. He couldn’t begin to imagine what would happen if the world discovered that Hitler was murdered.

  “That’s enough uncle,” Jon spoke sternly. “You have told them too much as it is.” His German was different from Loro’s, somehow thicker.

  “Why the bad organ music?” he asked.

  “For years and years, witches and demons from all over the world flocked to Passau to live with their kind. And we learned that the organ music turned a lot of them away. So, we play it every day.”

  “Makes sense to me.” He turned to Karri and nodded to the iron door. “We need to get going.”

  Loro rose from the chair and walked in front of him. He got so close that Deakon could see the tiny hairs in his nose moving back and forth and he breathed.

  “You absolutely cannot leave tonight!” Loro exclaimed in a loud voice.

  “Why’s that?”

  “First off, it’s night. And second of all, have you been listening to me?” Please wait until morning.”

  “Open the door, now,” Deakon said, pointing to the door.

  ****

  Deakon and Karri left St. Stephens Cathedral a different way than they had entered. It was a side entrance on the Danube River side of the church. He gazed over the river. The darkness smothered the small town. With the knowledge about the history of Passau, Deakon shuddered. He grabbed Karri’s hand and they walked with a brisk pace to the main road. Then he stopped abruptly. Deakon heard the whispering again.

  “What’s wrong?” Karri asked.

  “Don’t you hear it?”

  “Hear what?”

  “The whispering.” It was greater than when he made Karri disappear. He covered his ears, but the sound was coming from inside his head.

  “Deakon, I’m getting scared. Tell me what I should do.” she said, hunching her shoulders.

  “We need to get out of this place.” He took her hand again and rushed to a waiting cab.

  “Hotel Residenz,” Deakon said to another female cab driver. As the cab drove away from St. Stephens, the whispering stopped. He exhaled with relief. But when he took in his first breath he smelled the patchouli fragrance again. He quickly glanced in the rearview mirror. It wasn’t the same driver. But she looked oddly familiar to him.

  He turned to Karri, “Do you smell that?” he asked.

  “Yeah, and it stinks.”

  Deakon cut his eyes to the review mirror. Naw, it can’t be. He recalled what Loro had told them about witches’ odor. An uncomfortable sensation crawled into his legs and he moved them up and down in a rhythmic motion. He couldn’t believe he was in a car with a real witch. He kept sneaking glances at her. But, oddly, he wasn’t afraid. He stared out the back seat window, not turning to look at Karri. He didn’t want her to see his expression. He felt raw, like someone unzipped his body and turned it inside out. So many emotions ran through him that he couldn’t begin to process it. He was ready to leave Passau, Germany.

  After he paid the driver, she turned to him.

  “So you’re the one?” the driver asked.

  ***

  After the cab driver dropped them off at the hotel, she turned the available light off, grabbed her phone from the passenger seat, and made a call. After Zelda hung up, she rested her head on the steering wheel. She was exhausted. She lived two lives; one in Phoenix and the other in Passau. Zelda was a witch and she confirmed that Deakon was the Warlock Spire. His aura had been strong when he rode in the back seat. It had taken sixteen years, but it was worth it.

  Because Passau was a small town, everybody knew everybody else’s business. A secret was merely a suggestion. So, sixteen years ago when Agnes had gotten pregnant, the gossip mill churned. The witches latched on to the idea that she had been impregnated by the Oria spirits.

  When the witches discovered that the baby had been born a boy, a sentry had been assigned. The sentry had to remain with the Spire until he reached sixteen, the age that transformation began. But none of the witches wanted the task. After weeks of arguing, Zelda volunteered.

  Her first duty had been to save the infant’s life. The Catchers had brainwashed Agnes to murder the newborn upon birth. Time had run out for the witches. Because there wasn’t a spell to protect an unborn Spire, the witches had to create one that would save him from death. When she thought of the Catchers, a bile rose from her stomach, tasting like re-fried bird droppings. Or what she thought it would taste like. The witches had worked out a spell.

  In the darkest hour of the night he was born, the witches surrounded the church and chanted the new spell. Since they couldn't break into the church, they had to rely on the Oria spirits to breach Agnes’ mind. There were no boiling pots of crow’s feet or any of that fairy tale nonsense. The chanting went on until the first sign of dawn. When word got around that the baby had not been murdered, the witches exhaled a collective breath of relief and celebrated.

  Zelda followed him to Phoenix and purchased the house next door to the Metcalf’s. It had been crucial for her to be near him when he turned sixteen. She had to get the bracelet to him-it had been the key to his full transformation. The bracelet had been around for many centuries.

  According to the legend, ashes from the burned witches from the Great Execution of 1412 had been used to make the bracelet. Blood droplets from the remaining living witches had been mixed with the ashes and poured over melted gold in the form of a bracelet. The witches cast a unified spell on it-the first in history. Centuries later, Zelda had the bracelet in her possession. She had to come up with a way to give him the bracelet. That was the key. Only true warlock spires transformed with the help of it on their sixteenth birthday.

  Her first idea had been to give it to him as birthday gift. But she feared it would be suspicious since she’d never given the boy a gift before. She could’ve kicked herself for not starting the tradition fifteen years ago. She and the Metcalf’s hadn’t had a friendly neighbor-to-neighbor relationship. When she noticed he hadn’t come home for a few days, she followed the mother to Mercy Hospital. There, she snooped and learned that he’d been beaten up by bullies. It took all the will power she could muster to stop herself from crushing the skulls of each of them. Zelda came
up with a plan that worked better than she’d imagined.

  When Deakon returned from the hospital and she saw his beautifully evolved body, it had been the final confirmation. Deakon was their Warlock Spire.

  CHAPTER 19

  Deakon went to Germany to find answers but came home with more questions. As he drove from the airport, he rolled the windows down, letting the sound of the wind drown out his thought. But it didn't help. Loro's story had been stranger than fiction, but so were his powers. Something in him wished it had been a joke or even a bad nightmare.

  As he pulled in the driveway, he remained in the car looking out the window, wondering if witches and spirits roamed Phoenix. He needed scientific facts and knew what to do. He hurried into the house and dashed to his room. He tossed his backpack on the bed, sat at his desk, and googled warlock.

  After speed reading pages of blogs and nonsense on witchcraft, he found something. Warlocks were male witches that whispered spells. He leaned back in his chair and thought about the magic he'd done: he told Matt and his friends to beat on each other, he told Randall and his buddy to rise up, and he made Karri disappear. But why had they picked him to be a warlock? His body shivered. He didn't want to be a monster.

  He straightened up and googled witches in Germany. And there it was: twenty-six thousand witches were executed there, just like Loro had said. He read the entire story on the website. He gripped the chair handle as the story unfolded. During the 15th century Protestants considered witchcraft a serious crime. They tortured, hung, and burned the witches, all twenty-six thousand. How could a country get way with murdering all those women? He wondered if they covered it up as a secret to protect the country’s reputation. While he was deep in thought, his mother walked in his room.

  “How was your trip?” she asked

  “Good, mom,” he replied without looking up.

  “Did you make any new friends?”

  “As a matter of fact, I did,” he said, thinking about Loro. Though he didn’t know if he was a friend or a foe.

  “Good.” She hesitated. “Honey, don’t be alarmed, but while you were gone, the neighbor’s dog got a hold of Spanks.”

  Deakon swiveled the chair, facing her. “Where is he?” His eyes slanted and his breathing was fast.

  The Powell’s mutt was always trying to get at Spanks. Last year after Spanks jumped the concrete fence into their yard, he heard a yowl from the cat so hair-raising that he sprung into action. On sheer adrenaline, Deakon rushed to the backyard. He grabbed a lawn chair, pulled it next to the wall, jumped over the fence, and yanked Spanks out of the dog’s mouth. That incident had been the sum total of his bravery.

  “Calm down, he’s at the animal hospital. They said he would be just fine as soon as his bones heal.”

  “You want me to calm down when those idiots next door can’t control their dog?” he asked, moving quickly out of his seat.

  Spanks had been his only friend when he was the old Deakon. They played together and even carried on conversations, though Deakon had been the only one speaking. But Spanks listened intently. Well, maybe not always. He sometimes napped during their chats.

  “Honey, Spanks jumped over their fence. I think we should keep him indoors from now on.”

  “I’m going to give them a piece of my mind.” He brushed past his mom and stormed out of the house.

  Deakon stomped next door and banged on the door. Since the houses in Phoenix were very close to each other, it took only a few steps to reach the Powell’s. And that’s another thing he intended to talk to them about. Night after night he had to endure the constant barking from the dog. The Powell’s, like his family, had only one kid, Josh. But unlike his parents, Josh's parents were Scottsdale socialites. They spent more time at charity events and parties than they did raising their own kid. Josh was left to fend for himself, and that’s why Deakon saw Pizza Hut dropping off pies three or four times a week.

  When Josh answered the door, he had a slice of pizza in his hands. “What’s up dude?” he asked, chewing on a mouthful of food.

  “You need to control your dog,” Deakon said.

  “Well, if it isn’t Deak the Freak, telling me what to do,” Josh said.

  “My name is Deakon and you’d be wise to remember that.”

  “Okay, Deakon,” he said, loaded with spite. “If you keep your mangy cat off my property, he wouldn’t end up as Kibbles and Bits for Prince.”

  Josh let out an spiteful grin that boiled Deakon’s blood. He balled his fists. He wanted to punch him smack in his jaw and feel bones cracking underneath his knuckles. Then he heard the whispers. Suddenly he raised his fist and pulled back. In mid swing he stopped. He had been the victim of violence all his life and he didn't intend on becoming a victimizer. It had been Spanks’ fault. The thought of crushing his face was delicious, though.

  Instead, Deakon looked at him and said, “Drop dead, you disgusting pig.” And turned and walked away.

  Then he heard a soft thump. He swirl around on the balls of his feet and saw Josh lying on the ground. He rushed to him, kneeling by his side. After removing pieces of pepperoni from his face, Deakon shook his shoulders. “Josh, can you hear me?” he yelled.

  When he didn't move, Deakon slapped him on the face. He feared that he choked, so he began performing CPR on him. When that didn't work he started doing chest compressions. One…two…three, repeat. One…two…three, repeat, One…two…three, repeat.

  “Wake up Josh!” Deakon yelled. "Please wake up."

  Suddenly, underneath his hands he felt a small movement from Josh’s chest as it moved up and down. Josh’s eyes flickered open. He stared at Deakon with a horrified look on his face.

  "Are you okay?" Deakon asked.

  Josh looked at him with wide eyes, blinking frantically. Instead of replying, he slowly rose, ran in the house, and slammed the door.

  Deakon hefted himself up and stumbled home. He nearly knocked his mom over, who was standing by the door. He paced his room, rummaging through his mind about what just happened. He remembered what he had just read about warlocks whispering spells. Did he just tell Josh to die and he did? It couldn’t be, yet everything about it made sense. He sat on his bed, bent over, in pure terror at what he was.

  Deakon needed to know the strength of the his powers. He stood in the middle of the room, focusing on his body. He took a few deep belly-button breaths, closed his eyes and visualized himself rising. Thoughts of Josh and the stories from Loro raced through his mind and nothing happened. He opened his eyes to think.

  Think Deakon.

  He glanced at his wrist, but the bracelet wasn’t on it. He walked to the bed, fumbling through the backpack and found it.

  He tried again, spreading his legs shoulder length apart. He cleared his mind of everything and everybody. He lowered his head, closed his eyes, and willed himself to rise. Seconds later a rush of weightlessness came over him. He was almost too terrified to open his eyes, but when he did he saw that he had risen a few feet above the floor. His eyes popped open in shock, breaking his concentration. He dropped to the floor.

  His heart raced and his breathing was fast. He tried it again and this time he was able to stay elevated longer. While suspended in mid-air, he tilted his head to the right. Amazingly, his body followed. He tilted his head to the left and his body followed, too. The terror that he'd felt dissolved to exhilaration. He experimented more and went even higher.

  Most cool!

  Just when his head touched the ceiling, his mom opened the door and peeked in. He panicked. But he had to remain calm. He focused all his mind and was able to slowly raise his hips, feet and torso parallel to the ceiling. The straps from his Skytops dangled from above.

  Please don’t look up.

  “Deak, are you in here?” she asked, glancing around his room.

  Deakon stopped breathing, but he had to remain focused. If not, he'd come sailing down from the ceiling. How would he explain that?

  “Where does tha
t boy disappear to?” his mom asked, talking to herself. She closed the door and left.

  He let out a breath and hit the floor hard.

  Ouch!

  When he recovered from the bruise-making fall, he locked the door and practiced some more. He could fly and maneuver his body at will. He did it again and it worked. He did somersaults in the air. He did triple back flips like he was on a trampoline. He practiced his landing over and over again. He felt indestructible.

  How can that happen? He thought God and God only had that kind of power. Then he recalled what Loro said. The host of the demonic spirit had the power to influence other’s behavior, not their physical actions contradicting gravity. But he had done both. And not only to others, but to himself, too. He needed to tell Karri.

  He picked up his phone and called her. “Can I come over? I need to talk to you.”

  He drove the GT across the valley to her house in Tempe. The Mustang had an attitude that night that matched his. He felt the raw power in the car’s acceleration. It felt smooth and at the same time moody. But he liked the sass. He kept checking the rearview mirror, thinking someone was following him.

  It was the day before Christmas Eve, and as usual, there was no snow in Phoenix. People compensated by overdoing the yard decorations. Houses, yards, and even vehicles were covered in lights, reefs, and more lights. When he arrived at Karri’s house, it was lit up as well. She answered the door wearing jeans and a wrinkled tee. He adored her. Instead of inviting him inside, she walked out and led him to the backyard. They sat across from each other on white wicker chairs.

  “What’s wrong, Deak?” Karri asked. "You sounded strange on the phone."

  He turned his head from right to left before speaking. “I’m a warlock.”

  “Yeah, I know,” she rested her elbows on her knees. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

  He told her about the websites he read about warlocks. He hesitated about telling her what he did to Josh, but told her anyway. He waited for her to judge him, but she didn't. Instead, she listened intently. Then he told her about floating in mid-air.