by Gabby Fawkes
"As much as Ma cooks, I'm sure I can sneak you some food off, later tonight,” Linnie said, her smile rising, then falling. “Don’t venture far from here, though. We have nosy neighbors." She paused, sighing. “All witches are nosy neighbors.”
She left, leaving us to descend into the small room.
“What now?” Demi asked once we were all crammed inside, her face white.
“First off, you get healed,” I said, gesturing Apollo over, although he was already headed there himself.
“Next off…” I trailed off.
Sitting down on the bed, I turned to Axel and, in an undertone, asked, “What do you think – will this whole fugitive thing blow over soon?”
"No idea," Axel said. "For the next few weeks at least, the DSA will be combing Mathusalem looking for you, that much is for sure. Best thing is to lay low."
"What I'm wondering is," Kian said, lifting a pillow and twirling it in the air with her magic thoughtfully, "What were those Romamagi they were talking about?"
"They mentioned Romamagi in your trial?” Dion said, frowning. “You’re sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Then you don’t want to know," he said with a superior air of finality.
We all twisted around to look his way.
"What?" he said, scowling. "They’re a bunch of renegade witches, who don’t abide by regular witch law, like gypsies. I partied with them a few times back in the day. They're too crazy."
Artemis, newly healed, gaped at him. "You think they are too crazy?"
Kian snorted, clearly delighted. “Okay, now I have to hear the story behind this.”
"Well yeah," Dion said, tossing his curly-haired auburn head, eyes narrowed. "You should see them. They'll turn themselves into lions and start fighting for fun. Other times, they’ll steal cruise ships and go sailing all over, giving the DSA a hell of a time covering it up for the reggies."
Kian eyed him suspiciously. "Those all sound like things that you love to do."
"And I did," Dion said, his teal eyes almost wistful before narrowing. "Until they screwed me over and stole my lyre."
"I thought you have a lyre, present-tense," Kian said. "Wasn’t that the instrument thing you were playing when we met? And what you used to fight with?"
"Yes," Dion said, "I mean my other lyre."
"You lost your lyre?" Apollo said sharply.
"Ages ago," Dion said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "And I’ve been doing just fine since, thank you very much. Not that it’s any of your business – or anyone's – what becomes of my personal effects."
"In other words, you knew that we’d tell you you're an idiot," Axel said succinctly. “And be right.”
"Well, that explains a lot," Apollo said, shaking his head already.
"Like what?" I asked. This sounded important – but bad. Then again, knowledge is power, and all that.
"That lyre has the power of extreme mind control, even more powerful than our powers of compulsion, since it’s capable of influencing large groups of people at once," Apollo explained. "You could run into a whole troop of DSA agents and, if you played that lyre and suggested to them that you'd never met, they’d wander off believing just that."
"I thought you guys could already do that," Kian said.
"We can," Apollo said. “But not in those numbers. And if that lyre fell into the wrong hands…"
“Not to mention its other powers," he added grimly. "Making whole buildings and groups of people invisible. Summoning Zeus."
My breath left me. "That could be really useful for Speranță."
Apollo nodded. "Exactly. I’d been trying to get Dion to admit why he wouldn’t at least consider trying to use the lyre to protect Mathusalem, but I now see my dear brother has been careless again."
"No," Dion protested hotly. "I thought they were my friends. They gave me two whole bottles of Cheval Blanc 1947 St-Emilion.” He sighed, letting his head droop into his hand nostalgically, his eyes full. “Ah yes, Cheval Blanc 1947…. Thick enough to double as motor oil. Mind-boggling nose of fruitcake, chocolate, leather, coffee, and Asian spices. Unctuous, rich, sweet perfection.” He turned to glare at us demandingly. “Do you have any concept just how rare a ‘47 St-Emilion is?"
“Uh, no?” I said.
"You can never trust a gypsy," Apollo said, shaking his head knowingly.
I frowned. That made it sound like Apollo was as prejudiced as the witches were. While the Romamagi did sound untrustworthy, that didn’t mean every gypsy on the planet was, right?
"Like you’d know," Dion shot back.
"Guys," I said. "That lyre could change everything – why don’t we track down the Romamagi and get Dion’s lyre back?"
"Maybe," Apollo said at the same time Dion said, "No."
"Has everyone gone deaf?" Dion demanded, his face red and furious. "These gypsies are like Robin Hood crossed with Satan, understand? They drink too much, smoke too much, and they routinely steal from each other. Even if we did manage to somehow track them down – which, if they don’t want to be found, is impossible, by the way, they’d never return my lyre. The Romamagi motto is – ‘he who takes is he who owns’, for God’s sake!’"
"If the warlockfficers haven’t caught them in all this time, then they must be accomplished criminals," Demi said thoughtfully.
"That, and they purportedly have a web of alliances so nuanced and extensive it contains everyone from Seven Sisters to the DSA top brass," Apollo said.
"Another reason not to contact them," Dion said emphatically. "Seeing as they could easily and happily turn us over to the DSA again."
"Maybe we should ask Linnie," I suggested.
That night, when she snuck in with a large pot of cold but nevertheless flavorful butternut squash soup, I ran the question by her. "What do you know about the renegade gypsy witches? The Romamagi?"
Linnie's face was grave. “Nothing good. You figured out what Ma said?”
“Huh?” Kian asked, but she just shook her head firmly.
"What are you talking about?" I pressed.
“They are the only ones who are able to get out of Mathusalem without crossing at the border,” Linnie admitted.
Bingo. Count that as Reason #2 as to why they were our best shot right now. Although Linnie was still shaking her head. “The Romamagi are the worst of the worst. Heartless mercenaries who’ll do anything for anyone for money. I even heard"—she leaned in—"that they moved the DSA's base for them – and did away with any evidence the DSA saw fit to remove."
"You can do that?" I said. “Just up and move entire buildings?”
“It takes a lot of powerful magic, but yes," she said.
"And you say they’ll do anything to anyone for money," I said thoughtfully, an idea beginning to take shape in my mind. One along the lines of Reason #3 to track down the Romamagi… though would we have enough money to pay them for what I wanted them to do?
"Anyone who has a lot of money, I guess," Linnie said, her mouth a firm line. "But that's the problem. You never know if you're the one paying them the most. They’ll often work on an unsaid bidding system, taking money from different buyers, then working with whoever pleases them or pays the most – without telling the other involved parties."
"We can pay them the most," Demi said confidently.
“How?” I asked.
“Aren’t you Olympians extremely rich?” she asked Apollo.
“Yeah, because we’re careful with our money,” he said, unsmiling. “Meaning – we don’t go spending it on gypsies and their false promises.”
"You won't be able to find them anyway," Linnie said. "You’d have to have connections. And anyone who'd know where they were wouldn’t tell you and would either kill you or arrest you for asking."
"Come on," I pressed. "There's nowhere they like to hang out when they do come to town? Nothing you know of?"
"Venturing out is too risky," Linnie said.
"Not doing anything is riskier!" I argued. "Yo
u must’ve seen that news broadcast too. Bounty hunters and the DSA themselves are searching for us all over. If we go back, they're going to find us sooner or later. Speranță is safe for now, but it won't stay that way indefinitely. We need to find a way to hide it or move it. We need a safe home, Linnie. We can't just hide forever. And you know this is bigger than just me and the other kids who escaped, don't you? About Ulrulu-"
"Do not," Linnie said, "mention that name. Here, he's a joke. Like Santa. No one going is to take you seriously if you say that name."
"I heard it from Walario."
"I know you did."
"You won't help us?" I asked for the final time.
She bit her lip. "No.”
But then, as she strode off, she exhaled slightly with exasperation and said, “I may know one place."
An hour or so later, we strolled out of the house’s heavy brass front doors into the cobblestone street beyond, armed with a vague idea of where we were headed. Thanks to Linnie, we were basically unrecognizable too.
"If the DSA captures you, tortures you and does God-knows-what-else to you, it may lead them back here," she had said, when explaining why she’d used the skin-crawling, yet killer effective disguising charm on us.
Whatever her reasons, I had to hand it to Linnie – if I hadn't known that the little man with the light brown beard and lustrously curled moustache was Demi, I wouldn't have believed it.
A few steps out and my friend was elbowing me, gesturing to the sky.
“Isn’t that lovely,” I said sardonically when I saw. Although inside, my stomach was doing nervous flip-flops.
Pictured there in crystal-clear 4K HD, over the bright blue sky and fluffy clouds, were Demi, Kian and I. The depiction was def unflattering (since when did I have a snarling scabby, dragon head on a stubby human neck? Plus Demi had never looked so squintily-eyed evil in her life), with the red words: DANGEROUS AND WANTED, expanding and re-expanding in front.
“Not leaving any stone unturned, the witches,” Artemis said quietly.
We fell silent as we continued on. There was no need to point out how screwed we would’ve been without these disguises.
"Thought this was supposed to have us fit in," Persephone commented in a nasally voice that matched a pendulous nose which took up a good half of her face. “But everyone’s staring.”
"We’re dwarves,” Kian said. “And Linnie said no one fucks with dwarves.”
"For good reason," Axel said, his stern face downright hilarious with the extra thirty pounds and resting on a short, thick neck.
"Which is?” I asked, frowning, expecting another example of how judgmental the witches were.
The more I learned about them, the less I liked them. Still, it wasn’t fair to judge all of them based on the shitty traits of a few bad apples. If I did that, I'd be no better than they were. Plus, Kian was a witch too, and she was still my best friend, obviously.
“Dwarves are the most powerful and bad-tempered of all the warlocks," Axel explained.
“Ah,” I said, continuing on carelessly. “Ah!”
Axel caught me just in time, saving me from tripping face first into the stones.
“Damn cobblestones,” I muttered, rubbing my sore toe before limping on. Life seemed a lot harder when you were three foot nothing…
After that, I was more careful about watching where my torn-up sneakers went, as well as examining my surroundings, which consisted of stone-laid buildings that gave the feeling of being in some old European village.
The Den was the place Linnie had told us to look out for. The less-than-reputable establishment was apparently frequented by the Romms (the nickname people used for the Romamagi) the rare times they were in town. But most places simply looked like rickety old homes and elaborately decorated shops. The witches themselves, with their odd hats, cloaks of precious stone shades and wearing gazes that were carefully trained-away as if through a lifetime of practice, didn’t look like the people to ask either. Even a small fat boy who accidentally dropped a ball in front of us, took one look at Kian and Dion and ran off in the opposite direction, clearly leaving the toy for dead.
“According to Linnie, witches like tradition – so they magically preserve their homes from hundreds of years ago,” Kian explained as Dion picked up the ball. “Although in the biggest city – Winginium – which requires a special permit to enter – everything is high-tech and made of some clear, viscous material called sleem.”
“Did you memorize every single thing Linnie told you about witches?” Persephone asked, smirking.
“She mentioned some important stuff about dwarves, too,” Kian said, scowling. “And not all of us went to magical university to escape our evil, blue-haired husbands.”
Persephone’s blue eyes blazed.
"Cool," Dion was saying, tossing the rainbow-colored ball up with one hand and catching it with the other.
"Are you sure you weren’t originally a dog?" Kian asked dubiously as she watched him.
They started arguing, although I tuned them out. If they weren’t going to stay on task, then I definitely needed to. Although it was hard to stay on point when all the buildings looked so similar, with only the odd elements distinguishing them – metal grates of different stabby or curly designs, plaques that read: The Honorable House of the Horswitches, Cauldrons – Big, Slimy, Sapphire and Small – we have them all!, The Most Honorable House of the Sniviliians, est. 1425.
Smells like cotton candy boogers… my PV said crossly as a smell wafted over.
It was still peeved I hadn’t accepted its idea of: BURN THEM, BURN THEM ALL as our what-to-do-in-Mathusalem solution, after we’d realized the witches taking of our powers had worn off. It had been in the bathroom back at Linnie’s, actually, just before leaving, that I’d pleasantly realized that I could let the heat spread over me as much as I wanted – aka: I could shift if I wanted to.
But right now, that wouldn’t get us anywhere. As a dragon, I wouldn’t even fit in this little smoky hovel, let alone get the answers from anyone without accidentally destroying buildings or maiming people, as well as alerting the DSA to where we were.
I sniffed. The smell wafting over was sickly sweet….
I paused. The others did the same, and I followed Apollo’s sharp gaze to a door on our far right. From where we were, the opposite side of the street, its muted pale blue exterior looked just like all the others.
As we ventured closer, Linnie’s words of warning echoed in my mind: “This isn’t the kind of place you want to wander into accidently.”
Too bad we didn’t have much choice. A few feet away, a low thrum of music was audible. I could see that the ash-gray, half-crumbling stone hovel had several different sized, colored and scripted letters that formed its name – The Den, so we were at the right place, at least.
The main issue was the door – or, the doors, rather, as we came to see as we approached. There were no less than eight mini doors set into the panes of the main one, which helpfully didn’t have a knob. The mini doors though, had two handles each, some for the smallest size doors, and others for the bigger ones which comprised of two of the doors together. The whole thing looked like an unwieldy Jenga tower, and I had to resist the urge to take a step back.
"Some interior decorator had way too much to drink one night," Kian said, reaching out, then thinking better of it.
"No,” Apollo said, examining them with a frown. “It is to bar the unwelcome.”
"Pfft,” Persephone scoffed. "By building a crappy door? Whew… I'm trembling in my boots."
"You're wearing ballet flats," Artemis reminded her. "And we don't know what's behind those doors."
"Only one way to find out," Persephone said, reaching out.
Demi grabbed her arm. "Don't. We don’t know what’s in there. And all of us aren’t immortal."
She cast a worried look my and Kian’s way, and I stifled the urge to hug her. That was Demi, always looking out for us.
Persepho
ne made a face, although she didn't argue further.
"Standing around here isn't doing us much good either," I pointed out.
"We could wait nearby and see what someone does when they come out," Axel suggested, stroking his long beard thoughtfully. “Or just attack them and demand they tell us how to get in.”
I choked back my giggling. Despite our shitty circumstances, Dwarf Axel was just too cute and fat and hairy. Although I wasn’t sure I wanted to look at myself right now. I sure didn’t feel like girlfriend material.
"This place doesn’t exactly look hopping,” Kian said dubiously.
She was right. They all were. That was the problem. There was no clear ‘best’ idea. Even going back to ask Linnie wouldn’t be much help. More likely, since she’d never been in the Den, she wouldn’t know the specifics of getting in.
Back in Speranţă, our friends were waiting for us – depending on us. Not to mention that the DSA and witches were so determined to catch us that they’d broadcasted our freaking faces in Mathusalem’s sky. Yeah, there was no time to waste.
"Tala," Demi said nervously, sensing what I was about to do. "Don't."
But it was too late. I rapped on a small door, the one in the upper right corner of the main door.
The low thrum of music stopped.
Crash! Crash! Crash!
It sounded like something falling to the ground, over and over again. Took me a moment to realize that it must be someone - or something's - massive feet.
The door shook, and a mighty voice growled, "Go. Away."
My friends and I exchanged looks.
"Seems like a pretty clear message to me," Dion trilled, turning on his heel and tugging Kian along. "We'll just be seeing you-"
"Oh no you don't," Kian said, tugging him back.
"But babe," he protested.
"Don't babe me,” she snapped. “We are not going all the way back, after being turned into ugly little midgets for nothing."
Dion's face fell as he surveyed himself. "I thought I cut a rather dashing figure.”
I would've laughed – at the sight of Dion’s proudly puffed-out three beer bellies, if we didn't have way bigger things to worry about right now.