by K. C. Hughes
“He’s not here,” Mr. Metcalf said. From the look on his face, a dog could have seen that he didn’t have a clue as to what was going on.
After he closed the door, it took a few moments for the crowd to disband and Zelda stood alone. She saw that Deakon’s car was parked in the driveway. The feeling that she had turned into a full blown panic. Something was terribly wrong. She turned her head from side to side like she was about to steal something and headed to the Metcalf’s backyard. When she saw that Deakon’s bedroom window had been left opened, her breathing came fast and heavy. In a flash she scanned the backyard. She immediately knew he had been abducted. And she knew it had been the Catchers. That’s who she saw in the crowd.
Zelda failed. She walked back to her house with her head held down. Deakon had been kidnapped. Even though she was his sentry, nothing prepared her for the loss of the Warlock Spire. She had been distracted for while the they nabbed him. Why hadn’t she paid attention to her gut feeling that something was wrong? She knew the Catchers did it and would kill him, but she could not let that happen. Not on her watch! She needed to act fast.
***
The Quorum of Witches had suffered so much persecution, execution and destitution that the hope of a leader seemed unreal. Their last Warlock Spire misused the power for his personal agenda, slaughtering six million people. Since then, they lost faith and had become reckless. They hadn't been able to forget the pain of the past, so they began drinking heavily which turned into fights. Whenever they tried to come together for atonement, the Quorum got rowdy and bickered amongst each other, causing fights and even killings. It had gotten so bad they stopped meeting. But Zelda needed their help.
As soon as she arrived in Passau, she called a meeting with the Quorum. She wasn’t surprised that only a handful showed up. They met at one of the beergarden’s that the witches owned. They ran the government, the schools and the hospitals in the town. But they lacked a real leader who could restore their former reputation. The Spire had the power to do it. But she had to tell them the terrible news.
Zelda stood behind the counter of the restaurant and called order. Sometimes that was extremely hard to do with their kind. Although it had been a low point in their history, trying to subdue a roomful of hateful, vindictive witches was not easy. Jealousy was the worse. For instance, if a witch was pregnant, claiming it was a boy, the others cursed her. The child ended up being a girl, as always. Had they thought it through, they didn’t needed a curse. Witches weren’t able to have boys unless a warlock seeded it. It took a warlock to breed a warlock.
Zelda finally got control of the witches. She stood with slumped shoulders, feeling the self-hatred for losing him to the Catchers. After telling them about it, the restaurant fell silent. She saw the disgust on their faces. The fantasies they had about bearing the Spire a son were gone. Soon, the fighting began. They clawed and knifed one another. A few of them had to be taken to the hospital for serious injury. With so many years of infighting, they had never been able to band together. All they had been able to do was breed more hateful and jealous witches.
Zelda had failed.
Later that rainy night, Zelda walked along bank of the Danube river. As the black umbrella covered her face, she gazed at the ripples in the river. The same river that contained the ashes from her burnt ancestors. She’d wished they were with her, to save Deakon from a brutal death. They were the strong ones who stood up for themselves. She stopped at the river bank, raised her head and chanted to them.
“Ewaa isa Oria,” she said softly. She repeated the chant over and over. “Ewaa isa Oria.” She lowered her head and a single tear rounded her cheek and landed on the sand. The same spot where Deakon shed tears months ago.
And then something otherworldly happened.
Zelda watched as the sand bubbled her feet where her tear had landed. It was subtle at first but became wider with more force. She held on to the umbrella and watched as the mound grew wider. It began spreading around the river. It moved faster and she felt a rumble below her feet. But she remained calm. When the sand eruption made a completed circle, she took a step into it.
Slowly, the sand crawled up her legs, passed her hips to her chest, and then covered her face. It enveloped her like a warm blanket. Suddenly, like a huge fountain, the circle of sand propelled fifty feet in the air. The force of the torrent swooped the umbrella’s parasol and hoisted her up. Zelda relaxed every muscle in her body as she knew it was the spirit of the Oria. She wasn’t afraid as she watched the next actions unfold.
The sand landed in the river with such force that it caused a hundred foot tsunami-like wave. The huge wall of water glistened as it challenged gravity with its inaction. The only movement was the tiny ripples that swayed within the mass of water. Instead of crashing into the wave when she landed, she gently cascaded on it, using the umbrella as a parachute. As if on cue, the massive swell careened at mind-boggling speed through the river into the open ocean. Zelda rode it, using the canopy of the umbrella as her windshield and resting her body on the handle.
CHAPTER 24
Deakon woke up with a dry mouth. He had to lick his lips continually to produce moisture. He would’ve given his all worldly possessions for a glass of ice cold water. He blinked hard, trying to remember what happened to him. His mind, the one thing that he has always been able to count on, failed him. It was groggy and confused.
He built up the energy to look around. He laid on a hard table encased in a coffin-like metal dome. It was dark with the exception of small patch of light streaming from a tiny window. The dome, which was sheets of metal riveted together, covered his entire body. He saw that he had been strapped down with metal ties. He glanced back and forth and wiggled his body trying to free himself from the tight hold. But it was no use because the straps that bound him began cutting into his flesh.
He turned his head back and forth, panicky from claustrophobia that tightened his chest. He hollered for Karri, but the echo from his own voice hurt his eardrums. He concentrated on the light and centered his thoughts on freedom and saving her. Though he didn’t move a muscle, a gentle motion rocked him back and forth. At first it comforted him. He felt for a moment that he was safe and secure in his mother’s womb. The eerie silence overcame the momentary peace. It was the kind of silence that could turn a sane person into a mad man. His ears rang, but there were no bells. His mind searched, but there was nothing to grasp. Just stir crazy silence. He wanted to scream but feared the assault on his eardrums. The silence was deafening. The tightness of the space attacked him more than the fear itself.
What was happening to him? And why was it happening? Then he remembered seeing Loro. He shifted his eyes, trying to figure out what he was doing in Phoenix and how he knew where they lived. But if Loro had contacted his mom and dad about his adoption, then he knew where they lived.
This was not good.
Maybe Loro came to Phoenix to kill him and Karri. But why? What had he done to deserve to die? He never hurt anybody other than Josh’s dog. But he had nursed him back to health. Could Loro have known about that? He doubted it. Then it hit him. The television reporters. He remembered seeing footage of him at the rally, stirring up the crowd. It had been all over the news and even caused a world-wide drop in the demand for oil. But that was a good thing. So why did Loro and his Catchers want him dead? He didn’t get it.
Deakon knew he was going to die and the thought made him angry. He’d flown across the world to find out if his biological mother sent him the bracelet. But instead, he learned gruesome facts about his line of descent. A heritage that included being fathered by a demonic spirit and related to horrible monsters. But he wasn’t like the others. All he ever wanted was a normal life and to fit in with everybody else. Now he would never kiss Karri or anybody for that matter. He would never again see his mom or scratch Spanks behind the ears.
Instead of giving up, Deakon vowed to fight. If he was going to die, at least he’d die trying to save hims
elf and Karri. He played back all the details Loro had told him in the basement of St. Stephens. It was information overload, but never before had he been thankful for his photographic memory. He reached to the folds of his mind to retrieve any information that would save them. But could he save them without the bracelet? He remembered something Loro had said about his powers. What was it? It was something that made him think of Hans Solo.
That’s it!
Loro said the power was inborn in him and didn’t come from the bracelet. But how could he call on the magic without it? Every time he had done something magical, he’d been wearing the bracelet. Fueled with knowledge, he tried to use his power to release the metal straps. “Release me, release me,” he kept repeating. It didn’t work. He strained to lift his head, only to see that the straps were made of titanium, the strongest metal on the planet. Useless. He knew from chemistry class that the only way to change the molecular properties of the metal was to melt it.
Deakon studied the titanium and recalled its properties. Since the metal comes from the earth’s crust, it’s a natural ore. He remembered that he couldn’t levitate man-made objects, but maybe he could manipulate natural material. So he combed his mind for ideas to free the straps that bound him. He focused on what Loro told him about controlling people’s free will like the evil rulers had done. If he could somehow bend the rules of the natural properties of metal, he could escape.
As the boat rocked, he focused. He closed his eyes and felt the metal against his body. He took deep breaths, envisioning the titanium becoming an extension of his body. He had never focused on anything so hard in his life. He visualized the straps as his arms and the dome lid and his skin. In total focused concentration, Deakon Metcalf felt nothing.
He tried again, this time focusing harder. Still nothing. What was he missing. Titanium was a natural substance, so he should’ve been able to manipulate it. But nothing worked.
***
On the bridge deck of the container ship, Loro looked tired. His eyelids were heavy and he constantly rubbed them, pushing back the sleep that invaded his body. After viewing the footage of the school rally and seeing the boy’s raw power, he’d been unable to sleep. It tore at his insides to make the call, but it was his duty to report it. The Catchers had to take action.
Loro, Jon and another Catcher remained silent as the large vessel cut through the still waters of the Pacific ocean. The tranquility of the water did nothing to soothe the turbulence in Loro’s mind. He stared out the bridge deck window into the blackness of night. From every angle he saw nothingness, reminding him of the numbing feeling that took over his body. Jon invaded Loro’s space, watching his every move.
“It’s time,” Jon said. He’d been pushing Loro for the green light.
“I need to think,” Loro said, raising his voice. He needed to pray more.
“There’s nothing to think about, you even admitted that yourself,” Jon shot back.
Loro rubbed his temples trying to stop his throbbing headache. “Just give me a minute.”
“I’ll give you one more minute and that’s it!” Jon said. “Then I’ll cut off his head and feed his torso to the sharks. If you had listened to me sixteen years ago, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”
Loro flinched at the thought. “Okay, one minute.”
“We’ve seen this before. No matter how connected you are to him, he’s a warlock and more dangerous than the others.”
“But he’s a good kid,” Loro pleaded.
“I imagine Hitler was a good kid, at one time or another. Hell, he even took art classes. But he turned into a brutal killer. We cannot take a chance of that happening again.”
“Deakon would never do that,” Loro protested.
“You’re right, he may never do what the others did, but have you considered that he could do worse?”
Loro shook his head not wanting to imagine the possibilities. The Oria were getting stronger and sneakier by the day. He should’ve smothered the tiny infant the day he was born. He hated those demon cursed babies. They were unstoppable. He needed to speak with Deakon before they killed him.
Loro walked out the bridge deck and descended the spiral staircase to the cargo hold area where they held Deakon. After he’d made his initial call, the wheels had been set in motion. They’d placed a large order for titanium, the only natural metal that blocked the transference of a warlock’s spell. During the three day ocean voyage from Germany to California, they built the titanium holding chamber. And now they had to kill him.
When he saw Deakon trapped in the titanium partition, his shoulders slumped. It was painful to see him squirm trying to free himself. Loro knew escape from the titanium walls and ties was impossible.
“Deakon, Deakon, Deakon,” Loro said in a sing-song tone as he peered through the opening. “Why did you do it?”
“Do what?” he asked, in a muffled tone. “What did I do?”
“You found your power, and well- you’ll never be the same. Once it’s felt, it corrupts even the most self controlled.”
“Loro, what are you talking about? What power? I told you everything I did.”
You held that rally at school.”
“That stupid rally? It was just something to do, you know? Please, you have to believe me,” he pleaded.
“That stupid rally got the attention of millions of people. And they did exactly what you told them to do. They stopped buying gas.”
“And that’s bad, because? Some reporter told me it caused gas prices to drop.”
“You still don’t get it. Today it’s for lower gas prices and tomorrow it will be something evil and sinister.”
“I’m not evil, Loro! I’m just a kid.”
Loro turned when he heard light footsteps approaching. It was Jon, looking insidious dressed in all black like he was Neo from the Matrix?
He stood next to Loro. “How do you want to proceed?” Jon asked. He leaned over and peered in the opening slit. Something told him that Deakon could have become the strongest and most powerful warlock in the history of man. But that would not be the case.
Jon walked around the chamber with his hands on his hips. He studied the boy and feared him, too. There was only one way to kill a warlock. Since his powers were stronger than the others, the Catchers had to do it right. There’d be no second chance. Jon wanted to drown him then cut off his head. He’d planned the whole thing out. But Loro needed to approve it. Jon added the installation four cone-shaped spray nozzles into the cavity of his holding chamber. Once he turned on the water, it would take thirteen minutes to fill it up. Then he would wait for him to drown and pull his lifeless body out, placing it on the stainless steel table. The cranial saw he had purchase would sever his head from his body.
“You decide,” Loro said, turning his head away from Jon. He couldn’t afford to let him see the tears. What would he think? What would Jon tell the other Catchers? Why had this disposal been the hardest on Loro? He’d been doing this many years and even trained Jon. He figured, it all revolved around his real mother, Agnes. Had he had a crush on her, but too afraid to act upon it because of her young age? Impossible, Loro had been too disciplined than to think that way. He glanced at Deakon for the last time, “I’m sorry young Deakon,” Loro said. He turned and trudged to the door.
When Jon confirmed that Loro was gone, he peered in the slit and spoke to Deakon. “Let me tell you how this is going to happen,” he said with a smirk on his face. “First I will open the water valve. As the water fills up, you will begin to panic. The water will cover your body and your natural instincts will be to flee. But you won’t be able to move. Then after water covers your face and you can no longer hold your breath, your brain will tell you to breath. You will gasp for air, but your lungs will fill with water. And then it’s, bye-bye for you,” Jon said, waving his hand like he enjoyed murdering teenage boys. He backed up a few steps and turned on the water valve.
Deakon heard the hiss of air escaping the jet nozzles
. Seconds later, water rushed in. It was cold and he immediately began shivering. The water lapped against his ribs. He couldn’t believe that he was actually going to die. He didn’t want to drown to death. He’d rather have been shot, since it was a sudden death. Or die by lethal injection, which was a more humane way to die. Drowning was a slow and painful death. He wasn’t ready to go. He wanted to tell his mom he loved her. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d told her. He wanted to roll on the new skateboard he bought. He wanted to get married and have kids of his own. He wanted to travel and see new places. And most importantly, he wanted to kiss Karri.
He felt a huge lump in his throat.
Karri.
What would they do to her? Would they drown her, too? His body tensed. He couldn’t let anything happen to her. Deakon’s reflexes made him push with all his strength to escape. When he saw pools of blood swirling the water, he’d knew the straps had cut through his skin. It was his blood . He relaxed his neck muscles and stopped struggling. Not because he’d given up. He would never give up, ever. There had to be a way.
As the water raised, he looked around with wild eyes. He saw Jon peering in the small window, wearing a smirk on his face. His blood boiled when he saw the grin. Deakon turned away from him and concentrated. He couldn’t manipulate the titanium, but maybe he could control the water. After all, the human body was made up of 70% water. Titanium had none. Since he had been able to levitate people, then his power should be able to control water.
He closed his eyes and focused on the water. He accepted the water as being a part of him, the same as he did with the titanium. He welcomed the water into his pores and saw it as a friend and not a foe. He embraced it with his mind. He thought back to what Loro had said. The power was in him. He repeated the phrase over and over. He cleansed his mind of the fear of death and relaxed. He opened his eyes, coaxing the terror into determination.