Witch out of Water

by Aiden James

  “I understand.”

  The kitchen suddenly felt smaller and warmer... and not in a good way.

  “We see several desirable young women in your immediate future, Bas,” said Arthur, offering a warm smile before pausing to suck on the end of his pipe. The rich aroma of cherry almond tobacco filled the air—an essence that has long brought comfort to me, as it is also Grandpa’s preferred tobacco flavor whenever he enjoys his pipe. “Say, are you going to the Oktoberfest celebration this weekend?”

  “I hadn’t heard about it... it’s kind of early for that sort of thing, isn’t it?” I said, shifting in my chair. “I thought that happens in October?”

  They both chuckled, eyeing me as if addressing a small child, or worse, a pitiful simpleton.

  “It usually starts in September, dear, and extends into October,” Matilda advised. “I take it you don’t normally participate?”

  Honestly, no. At least not since my folks took me years ago... like 1985 or thereabouts. Now that I thought about it, back then, Mom and Dad had waited until the very last day of the celebration in Wheaton to take Alisia and me. Needless to say, my sis and I were less than thrilled about not being able to partake in imbibing the wonderful assortment of Bavarian alcoholic beverages, since she and I appeared to be all of thirteen and sixteen years old, respectively.

  Maybe that’s why I couldn’t get the festival’s month right?

  “This year, it starts this Saturday, September 19th, and will last through October 4th,” she continued. “But the biggest celebration of it in Denmark will be held downtown next Saturday night, the 26th. There’ll be a fun dance party for young folk such as yourself that evening.”

  “I thought we are in some kind of lockdown status for Covid-19,” I said warily.

  “Yes, of course, dear boy. It will be a dance held outside and with masks and social distancing required,” said Arthur, pointing the tip of his pipe in my direction. “We highly recommend for you to attend, Bas—and the fun actually will start early in the afternoon that day. We’ve got a feeling you just might meet a gal who will help you forget all about Daciana Matei.”

  He nodded enthusiastically, as did Matilda.

  Oddly, I felt a slight surge of hope... and suspiciously studied the pair, knowing it could be a ‘spell nudge’ from these ancient practitioners of magic. Of course, they didn’t let on if that was indeed the case, or not.

  “So, I guess that’s it, huh?” I rose to leave.

  “Not entirely, dearest Sebastian,” said Matilda, rising to remove the tea kettle from the table. “I can send you home with some shortbread wafers, if you’d like.”

  “Sure... but is there anything else you wish to discuss before I leave?”

  “You mean is there anything else the EEC wishes to convey on their behalf?” Arthur chuckled.

  “Yes... is there?”

  “Just the admonishment to keep your eyes out for a certain relic that is believed to be here, somewhere inside Denmark’s city limits,” Matilda advised, moving to a nearby cupboard to grab a Tupperware container. She brought it to the table and began to fill it with nearly a dozen of the delectable English shortbread treats. “Your family knows all about it, too. The ‘Vulpe Ring’, or more accurately, ‘Sorin’s Ring?’”

  “I’ve heard of it,” I confessed, allowing only what Grandpa had recently shared about the ring to enter my mind. “I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for it.”

  “See that you do, Bas,” Arthur admonished, rising gingerly from his chair. “The EEC has declared the item as part of a ‘contraband’ collection of relics stolen from the Sacred Council treasury some years back. The EEC has demanded the return of the entire collection, but is focused mostly on this one ring.”

  He sounded puzzled, as if unsure about the EEC’s reasons for favoring the ring, and his response drew a stern look from his wife.

  Now, I was even more intrigued.

  “Why? Do you know?” I asked.

  After sharing a silent glance with each other, they shook their heads in unison. A sure sign to my gut that they were hiding part of the answer.

  “Just don’t keep anything from us, Sebastian.” Despite the warm smile and nurturing tone, the glint in Matilda’s eyes told me this was not so much advice, but a warning. A serious one at that. “Any sign of the ring’s presence must be reported immediately to us. Do you understand?”

  I shrugged. “Sure, if I come across anything in regard to it, I’ll immediately contact you both.”

  “Promise?” Arthur pressed.

  “Yeah... I promise,” I assured him.

  But after exiting the Albright’s fabulous home, and heading back to Twin Magnolias, I wasn’t so sure.

  Without focusing my thoughts on anything other than getting home, something told me that keeping the promise and any other commitments I made to them would be influenced by whether or not my mind remained in control of my thoughts and actions.

  All bets were off if instead it was my heart.

  Chapter Six

  Would it shock anyone that my family awaited my return on the front porch at Twin Magnolias?

  I’m guessing probably not.

  “How’d it go, Bas?”

  Alisia was the first to accost me, and I feared her question would open the floodgates to a barrage from everyone else as they ushered me inside our antebellum mansion. Once surrounded in the foyer, the bombardment ensued.

  “Did you give your commitment to obey the EEC edicts?” Grandma asked.

  “You know how important this is, right?” added Adrian.

  It quickly became an unusual event, where a battery of queries unlike anything I had ever heard spewing from my family’s mouths began to pile up, waiting to be answered. Especially surprising was the fact our clairvoyants and clairaudients in attendance didn’t already know what took place inside the Albrights’ kitchen.

  “It deals with the secrecy allowed by the EEC for their constables working abroad,” Mom advised, obviously aware of the confusion bubbling up inside my head. “It’s the only time they are allowed the same privacy protection that ordained wizards enjoy—like Adrian and Attila von Stroheim.

  “Attila who?” I asked.

  “He’s the head constable stationed downtown,” said Dad, drawing another scowl from Adrian.

  My uncle must really detest this other wizard ‘something fierce.’ Yeah, that’s a fun little phrase I picked up from the locals soon after we moved to Denmark last year.

  “Attila is an arrogant and incompetent Lilliputian!” Adrian seethed. “Why the EEC didn’t assign the post to me instead of him, I’ll never—”

  “Say what you will about Wizard von Stroheim, son, but how could your role as chief constable ever be seen as neutral by the Mateis?” interrupted Grandpa. He rolled his eyes as if this wasn’t the first time Adrian had voiced such disdain for the EEC’s police appointment in Denmark. “As ‘inconvenient’ as life can be at times, under the Council’s latest tyranny, Heaven help us if an EEC surrogate decision made by a Radu might offend a Matei! It wouldn’t even have to be an American Matei being ‘put off’ for things to explode.”

  “We’d be sitting on a ticking time-bomb for certain.” My grandmother shook her head disgustedly, while shooting Adrian a disapproving look—who shrugged and threw his hands in the air before following Manuel into the kitchen.

  “Well, I plan on being a good boy... no more Matei fraternizing for me!” I offered a weak smile, since despite the words, it brought a needle of pain to my chest. “I gave my commitment to move on from Daciana—same as I announced at breakfast this morning. And, I promised to keep Arthur and Matilda updated on Sorin’s Ring, should I stumble on it, or if I learn anything about its whereabouts.”

  That last part seemed to catch Grandpa off guard, which immediately told me that his update yesterday on the search for this relic had been understated. Perhaps, very much so.

  “You would go against your family’s wish for secrecy should one
of us happen upon the Vulpe Ring?” he asked, smiling wryly—perhaps mostly for his preference of ‘Vulpe’ over ‘Sorin’s’.

  “Georghe! What in the hell are you thinking?” scolded Grandma, shushing him while pointing in the direction of the Albrights’ home, three doors down.

  “What?” His feigned innocence incensed her all the more.

  “They’re probably listening in right now, Father,” said Mom, quietly. “Why draw any unwanted attention our way?”

  Grandpa laughed. “I love you dearly, Silvia and Florina... but both of you should lighten the hell up! Without a doubt Arthur and Matilda might be listening in... but why would they bother? Surely, with just a few decades left before the EEC puts them out to pasture, they have better things to do with their time. Especially, when considering Arthur’s advisement to me last week that he and Matilda want to immerse themselves in as much of Denmark’s southern culture as possible.”

  “So, you don’t think they feel much need to listen in to what’s going on inside here?” I motioned around me, admittedly feeling a tad more hopeful about not having to constantly watch my ‘P’s and Q’s’. “But they did seem pretty serious about the ring—even more so than any worries about me trying to interfere with next Saturday’s nuptials.”

  “Nuptials?” Alisia chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you use that word before, Bas.”

  “It’s not my word... Matilda used it,” I said sheepishly, while thinking my terminology for Daciana’s wedding to a Ninnius nobleman would surely be a string of the vilest expletive-deleted phrases I could muster. In private, of course.

  My mind’s ‘full-nelson’ hold upon my heart was beginning to weaken, and a wave of sorrow felt ready to pounce in retaliation.

  “Hey, I was just kidding, big brother!” My sis scooted close to me. “How about you and I hit the local ice cream parlor first thing this Saturday morning? They’re opening earlier than usual, and with some specialty ice cream treats for the start of Oktoberfest. To say nothing of the fact Tuttle’s Ice Cream Shoppe’s regular selections are even better than they were the last time you and I were there.”

  “How could I forget that day?” I said glumly, thinking of the summertime visit last year and the Bananas Foster ice cream cone that Serghei Matei turned over on top of my head.

  “Oh, Bas, I forgot about that part, since you ended up standing up to that bastard, and unarmed without a wand—something his scrawny ass would’ve been too chicken-shit to do!”

  “Alisia, that’s not a proper mouth for a young lady,” Grandma scolded.

  “It’s okay, Grandma,” I said, drawing a wary look from her and my folks. “To be honest, Ali’s irreverence for proper etiquette just now picked up my spirits.”

  I allowed a bigger smile to shine through... one that felt genuine, and allowed me to slap a lid on the emotions seemingly determined to escape the prison I had created.

  “It will just be the two of us, Bas... Harris will understand.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. I’m sure.” Alisia clasped my hand in hers and held it tightly. “He suggested last night that you and I should spend some time with each other, so I’m sure he will be cool with us spending the morning together. Then, afterward, we can join him for some fun downtown Saturday afternoon.”

  Sounded fun, and even my folks and grandparents nodded approvingly.

  “Once you’re feeling more like yourself again, Bas, you and I can start looking for the ‘Vulpe’, ‘Sorin’s’, or whatever name is the correct moniker for that damned elusive ring!” Grandpa laughed, and then looked in the direction of the Albrights’ home as my grandmother had done moments earlier. He brushed aside his graying hair from his shoulders while an impish glint blazed within his hazel eyes. “And, yes, Art and Mattie—we will definitely keep you in the loop, like obedient warlocks and witches are wont to do!”

  *****

  The rest of the day evaporated much faster than I expected, having long heard how recovering from a broken heart can feel like each hour is an eternity. Especially, in the initial stages of healing.

  Perhaps this was helped along by my refusal to acknowledge my feelings. I’d like to think so.

  I kept my focus on adjusting to a brand-new world—and in so many ways it was very different from the one I had known fourteen months ago. New home improvements throughout Twin Magnolias and the recent construction work that had totally changed the look of the back yard; a new pandemic that had changed the way people across the entire world were dealing with one another; new foreign constables in a town that hadn’t had any when I left; and even new local civic changes—like the renaming of Forrest Street to College Street.

  Speaking of new, I thought I might immerse myself in the latest “Madden NFL” video game that was one of my ‘birthday/coming home’ gifts. But then I discovered the real season might be cut short due to the pandemic. And, even if it did last, it was already being done ‘sans fans in the stands’ for the most part.

  Seriously? That’ll be like watching ho-hum tennis matches or golf, or even bowling, for Christ’s sake!

  Luckily, the highlights from the first weekend of games weren’t so bad, although still a bit surreal seeing mostly empty stadiums. Rumor had it that some small outbreaks on several teams were being downplayed and kept under wraps. Otherwise, the young season would be kaput, like it was for most of the college teams.

  It’ll really suck if I can’t watch my Chicago Bears play after being jailed for the entire 2019 season!

  Yet, despite this favorite TV past time being in jeopardy for the near future, there was still plenty of other interesting shit playing on the cable stations. Everything from good old mud-slinging presidential campaigns to apocalyptic wild fires, hurricane highlights, and of course the sneaky coronavirus that had become the world’s ‘Whack-A-Mole’ incarnate in terms of how it could die down and then spring up—always one step ahead of scientists and health organizations trying to downplay the fact it was continually mutating.

  That sucker’s gonna keep my healing heart company for the next several years, I bet!

  Yeah, good to know my cynicism is still intact.

  By mid-afternoon, I had the house to myself for about an hour, until Alisia returned with Harris and her adorable puppy, Lucian. Then the rest of my family was back—including my uncles with their wives and my toddler cousins.

  I kind of get the feeling that everyone is going to keep a close eye on me. Needless to say, when I joked “better keep sharp objects away,” it didn’t go over well.

  “We love you so very much, Sebastian,” said Mom, as she and Dad came over and sat down on the sofa next to me. “We want what is truly best for you—that’s all.”

  “You’re not really thinking of hurting yourself over this, are you?” Dad asked.

  Not one to mince words, he eyed me seriously. His hazel eyes grew dark as he continued to study me.

  “No, Dad. It was just a careless jest,” I assured him. “Sorry I said it.”

  Honestly, my parents’ compassion—as well as the loving looks and warmth emanating from everyone else—touched me. Touched me and lifted my resolve to stay positive, and not to give in to the urge to wallow in sorrow.

  Easy to say when surrounded by loving auras in the light of day... but what happens in the dark stillness of night? Will my suppressed feelings creep toward me in my bedroom’s darkness like an unwelcome phantom?

  I might never sleep without a nightlight again!

  “What’s so funny, Sebastian?” Manuel asked, in response to a slight smile on my face inspired by my silent musing. “A private joke?”

  Mom, Grandma, Alisia, and even Adrian chuckled. When they were asked what was up, their quiet whispers to those sitting closest to them in the living room inspired laughter and knowing looks from nearly everyone else. Glad to know my well-defined mental image of Nosferatu crawling across the oriental rug in my bedroom toward my bed amused them all!

  In
truth, the humorous event at my expense kind of loosened things up. The dreary vibe lingering in the air finally dissipated, and before I knew it, we were reminiscing about some of the finer moments my family and I experienced in our early Denmark days. It helped set the mood for a pleasant evening of pizza and beer.

  Just before dusk, my uncles and their mortal brides—along with Adrian’s adorable ‘semi-mortal’ toddlers, fraternal twins named Tamaron and Keileen—headed home. Alisia and Harris had a movie date, and I agreed to keep an eye on Lucian in my sister’s absence. Apparently, our parents and grandparents believed I’d be in good hands—or paws—with the little guy, and they soon left for a cocktail night at Sadee and John Dean’s place.

  And, just like that, all the coddling attention from my family had fallen by the wayside before twilight’s arrival. In the meantime, the dog kept me company as I channel surfed on the living room sofa.

  “I guess it’s just you and me, Lucian,” I whispered to my new best friend. He raised his head, cocking it to one side from where he had curled up next to me. Adorable double blinks made it seem as if he understood my words. “Is it true that dogs enjoy the Cartoon Network best?”

  Lucian’s ears fell, and I chuckled.

  “Oh, not so much, huh? Hmmm... I’m kind of bored. You wanna try your hand, er, paw at the new Madden?” I asked, expecting nothing in response, really. But the little guy jumped down from the sofa and started twirling like he does when he’s excited about something—according to my sis.

  No, I’m not foolish enough to believe Alisia’s puppy could do much else than what I’d already witnessed, though impressive as it is. But, I figured he could twirl and dance inside my bedroom while I pretended the Chicago Bears had a legitimate chance of getting to the Promised Land this season.

  “Okay, little buddy... let’s go break in the new game, my man!”

  He jumped into my arms and without anyone present telling me I couldn’t, I floated up to the second floor. I was about to enter my bedroom when I cast a random glance through the landing’s solitary window that faces the barn and a partial view of the northern edge of our property beyond it.