Witch out of Water

by Aiden James

  Their flitting silhouettes against the backdrop of the morning sun carried an unsettling eeriness—only lightly offset by the prism qualities of the shield itself.

  There are hundreds more in the street, as compared to last night... and more will be here soon! We could be so screwed!

  Not wanting to think any longer about what we were up against, I moved over to the armoire. I gently pushed its left side door fully open. The soft emerald glow remained unchanged... and I began to worry about Daciana’s welfare.

  What if she’s no longer in there? What if another wizard—or her sorceress cousin—was able to sneak inside my bedroom and remove her without me even being slightly aware?

  With shaking hands, I bent down to open the compartment... and nearly fell on my butt in surprise when the door suddenly slid open.

  “Good morning, my love!” Daciana enthused in her Minnie Mouse voice. Dressed in designer jeans, low heels, and a matching pale blue sweatshirt, she stood in what looked like a miniature posh studio apartment—complete with a smartly furnished living room and kitchenette. I could see what appeared to be a small bathroom, with a glass-enclosed shower similar to the one I enjoy in my bathroom, next to the kitchen area. “What do you think?”

  Not sure if she was talking exclusively about the apartment, or her stylish fall attire, too.

  “It looks great... and you look amazing!”

  “Really?” She sounded unsure.

  “Yes... and I guess I need to quit being a prude about magic use, huh?”

  She laughed. “I see you doing your spells here and there,” she said. “But, you might want to loosen up a bit more. Especially, since the rules are different for us as Sorin’s proteges.”

  “Proteges? As in wizard apprentices?”

  “Not exactly, but close enough for what will be expected of us down the road.”

  “Really? Like what kind of expectations?”

  Yeah, that threw me a bit. Heady stuff for sure. Here I was thinking of merely not being a stickler for The Code, while Daciana suggested we might one day be the spell-casting peers of Attila von Stroheim, as well as my Uncle Adrian.

  “I think it will be better for Sorin to explain it all,” she advised, eyeing me sweetly. “But for now, don’t be afraid of using your magical talents, Bas. If you’ll notice, you are the only one in your family who feels guilty about stretching the rules these days. The Code does in fact allow for it, depending upon the circumstances.”

  True. But only when absolutely necessary. And not when a warlock, and/or witch, has openly defied the European Elders Council’s wishes!

  “The EEC will eventually see things as Wizard Gabon and his allies within the higher ranks see them,” she affirmed, commenting on my latest internal debate.

  “I thought the Supremes were currently aligned against us?” I added an impish grin, since I didn’t intend for this to be an argument in any way.

  She sighed and shook her head, still holding me in her loving gaze.

  “There are some Supremes already aligned with Sorin,” she said. “Just not enough yet, in order for him to present the case on our behalf. In the meantime, it’s absolutely critical for us to be removed from harm’s way, so that our enduring love can be proven genuine to everyone else. That will take a little time.... You and I already know the truth, as does Sorin—and there are others too, as I alluded to a little bit last night. Even members of both of our families here in Denmark know the truth... they just don’t like it.”

  Admittedly, I felt a slight chill trickle down my spine, since it mirrored what my Uncle Manuel had shared in my dream.

  A slight gurgling sound emanated from Daciana, and she looked down at her stomach.

  “Sounds like you’re hungry,” I said, chuckling.

  “You heard that?” She appeared embarrassed.

  “Hey, it’s okay... my stomach growled a lot louder than that while I laid in bed waiting for the sun to rise!”

  I laughed and she joined me, though her smile remained sheepish.

  “Yeah, I guess I am hungry.... I can draw electricity from a variety of sources, and create a small reservoir of water from molecules floating inside your bedroom. In addition to being safely hydrated, I now have a fully functioning kitchen and bathroom.” She motioned to the amenities she had created during the night. “But, food is an entirely different matter... unless I want to transform insects into a suitable substitute.”

  “What, like the scientifically altered and bred cockroaches that go into protein shakes?” I teased.

  “Yeah, I guess so,” she replied, grimacing at the imagery I provided. “Obviously, it would be better and easier on the mind if you could somehow scrounge up some fruit and maybe bread, or rolls,” she said. “You might have to hide them, which is where utilizing subtle spells can prove quite useful!” She laughed.

  “I get your point,” I agreed, chuckling along with her. “Tell, you what... I’ll go downstairs now and fetch you something from the kitchen. It might take a little while, since I usually spend time with my family before everyone heads off in their separate directions for the day. Hope that’s okay.”

  “It is. I should be fine for a while... even an hour or two,” she assured me. “Although, if you take much longer than that, then you might become breakfast!”

  “That might be kind of fun,” I replied, feeling a slight wave of warmth in my face upon realizing the sexual forwardness of my comment. “I mean—”

  “It might indeed,” she interrupted, adding a seductive wink.

  “Well, then... I will return soon, my love.” I blew her a kiss as I stood, preparing to close the armoire door.

  “I’ll be waiting patiently, Bas,” she said, pointing an open palm toward the door. As she closed her fingers, the armoire door shut. “I love you!”

  *****

  As was the case yesterday, the kitchen sat empty when I arrived downstairs.

  Ditto for the entire first floor.

  Not even the dog this time, which told me that either Lucian was with Alisia this morning, or maybe the little guy had gone for a walk with someone else in my family. Although, where in the hell would anyone go with our distant cousins and the Mateis patrolling the neighborhood beyond Wizard von Stroheim’s shield?

  Yeah... hard to make hay, or any sense, with just those facts so far.

  But rather than waste time on it, I set out to gather what I could from the refrigerator and pantry, shrinking bananas, oranges, and a cantaloupe to where I could fit them all inside my t-shirt’s breast pocket with a minimal chance any member of my family would notice. I employed the same spell for a cinnamon pastry and a couple of blueberry bagels, along with a carton of milk, orange juice, and small tubs of butter and cream cheese.

  Afterward, I grabbed a package of chocolate Pop Tarts and another of Alisia’s beloved Atkins’ shakes, since the last one I stole from her was pretty good. Prepared to leave the kitchen, while worrying about someone soon noticing the theft of breakfast items from the fridge, the sound of rustling papers in Dad and Grandpa’s office startled me.

  “Well, hey there, Bas.”

  Of all the people in my family, the last person I expected to see this morning was Manuel—despite our recent dream interaction. He lightly grabbed my shoulder before I could venture into the foyer.

  “I was just about to fix myself something in your fab kitchen,” he said. “How about keeping me company for a moment? I can whip up one helluva Denver Omelet.”

  He grinned playfully, and after seeing him seem so morose lately—including in the dream—I didn’t have the heart to say ‘no’.

  “Sure, why not?” I followed him back inside the kitchen, and added another small ‘silent’ spell to keep the items in my pocket chilled until I made it upstairs. “What brings you here this morning? Any idea what happened to everyone else? I doubt the Rapture happened, since as fair-weather Roman Catholics, I’m pretty sure we’d be excluded.”

  “Ha! Don’t ever lose
your sense of humor, nephew!”

  He laughed, turning to face me while the refrigerator opened on its own, and all of the omelet ingredients he’d require drifted over to the stove, where a lightly greased skillet awaited their arrival. A soft blue flame was already heating the skillet from the burner beneath it. Meanwhile, he leaned in closer to me, grinning impishly as if aware of my discomfort with his continued full disregard of any and all EEC guideline restrictions—his own recent incarceration be damned!

  “How’d you like your dream from me?” he whispered.

  “So, that was you? Really?”

  Not that I was completely astounded, as alluded to earlier. But as is the case for most anyone, confirming a fanciful speculation often brings a measure of disbelief.

  “Of course,” he said, grinning knowingly. “Have you ever dreamed of me before?”

  “No. I don’t believe so.”

  “Then that settles it,” he said, lowering his voice again. “Don’t doubt it, and make sure you keep in mind what I shared. It will likely come in handy, and very soon.”

  He motioned for me to join him at the table, where two place settings were ready, and a hot serving of a fresh omelet awaited us. A frosted glass of milk sat next to my place setting, along with a steaming cup of coffee for Manuel.

  Yes, this was truly just as bizarre as depicted; and again, not all that different from my dream’s weirdness.

  “I understand you’re doubting the reality of this experience, Bas, but it’s all real. And, I must encourage you to not linger on your breakfast.”

  “How come? It smells amazing,” I said, sitting down and pulling my chair up to my plate while tossing the Pop Tarts and shake onto the kitchen island. “I’d like to savor this meal before returning upstairs to my room.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment for my breakfast spell—thank you, Sebastian!” He paused to take a sip of coffee. “Hmmm this is quite good! I do believe I outdid myself. But again, there isn’t time to sit back and enjoy a nice breakfast chit-chat, I’m afraid. They’re coming.”

  “Who’s coming?”

  “From what I can tell, it’s your folks and my folks, along with Adrian, Arthur and Matilda Albright, Attila von Stroheim, the Hausner brothers, and.... Ah, hell. They’re here!”

  My raging hunger had inspired me to practically wolf down my delectable breakfast. It turned out fortuitous.

  A loud rap that sounded like a cane smacked against the front door’s stained-glass inlay’s frame shook my attention from my plate. I hurriedly drank my milk, surprised when I heard my parents and grandparents greeting our visitors stepping into the foyer from the front porch.

  My family’s been here inside the house? For how long? Did they happen to catch any of my conversation with Uncle Manuel?

  “Thank you, Gabriel... Georghe. It’s been a long time, has it not, Florina? My daughter, Margorie, wanted me to say ‘hello’ to you, Silvia.”

  More salutations and joyous laughter erupted from inside the foyer.

  The unfamiliar male voice was accompanied by two others. The first voice that addressed my family belonged to a male in the early stages of middle-age, and carried an aristocratic edge to his English accent. The other two visitors’ voices were older, roughly my grandparents’ age, from what I could tell—one male and one female. This second man sounded French, and the woman was definitely Scottish. Their greetings were joined by warm responses from just about everyone in my family, including Alisia, who must’ve suddenly appeared inside our home with Lucian, who barked his own greeting.

  I could picture our precious pooch doing his unique ‘dance n’ prance’ routine, and felt a tad thankful, since it gave me a moment to finish my breakfast and set my glass and plate in the nearest sink.

  Meanwhile, I realized the Albrights and Wizard von Stroheim were also here, offering similar greetings to my family as our ‘new’ guests had, indicating they had arrived at our home with them. I pictured Attila spending the wee hours of the morning with our ‘out of towners’, likely since their arrival from Europe.

  Surely, these are the EEC’s representatives sent across the Atlantic to squash my hopes and dreams!

  The conversation suddenly became muted, with whispers involving my name and then... “He’s in the kitchen with Manuel—I’ll bring him here!”

  Adrian sounded excited... and a bit gleeful. Oh joy.

  Shit! I bet whatever’s coming next is gonna really suck!

  “Sebastian, we have some guests who have traveled far just to meet with you,” Adrian advised, after peering at me through the kitchen entry.

  “Oh, really?”

  He chuckled, eyeing me coolly with a wisenheimer expression on his face.

  “Yes. Come say hello.”

  He motioned for me to follow him, and he shook his head at Manuel when he asked if Adrian needed his assistance with this. In light of what my younger uncle had recently shared with me—in person and in my dream earlier—I found it hard not to feel a bit smug myself. But I knew it could prove foolish if I appeared to be anything less than respectful to our visitors gathered near the hall tree in the foyer.

  The trio carried eccentricity that rivaled the Albrights—which frankly astonished me. I wanted to laugh out loud, as here I thought all this time that our ‘Elders’ in Europe were a bunch of snobby-looking, stuck-up assholes. Hell, listening to Grandpa and Adrian talk about them had most often been a sneering affair dripping with disdain.

  I would’ve pictured the threesome attired like how we see our mortal world leaders appear, wearing expensive Brioni business suits and Rolex watches while carrying Deux Jours patent leather briefcases. Maybe donning the latest expensive sunglass styles from Gold & Wood or Dita Epiluxury—or maybe something even ritzier than those brands.

  After all, snobbery among all human beings tends to be predictable... right?

  I grimaced at the irony that perhaps the biggest snob in the room was me, since my preconceived expectations about these folks were so far off the mark.

  The tallest member of this group appeared to also be the oldest: a slender gray-haired individual with a long, narrow face accentuated by a smartly trimmed goatee. He reminded me of a cool college prof I once had back in Wheaton, at a community college where I took a creative writing class twelve years ago, out of boredom at the time. Casual sports coat with the patches on the elbows... something terribly dated, really, likely circa 1995. The coat being beige in color, along with dark slacks and a wintergreen dress sweater, his ‘vintage’ outfit came replete with something akin to penny-loafers on his feet.

  I would normally see this as maverick awesomeness... if the dude wasn’t here to pick a bone with me. His eyes were the thing that unnerved me most... deep brown with an amber tint more inflamed than either my grandmother’s or Atilla von Stroheim’s eyes.

  His elderly counterpart was a wee woman with bright red hair, and a round face full of freckled wrinkles and bright green eyes. Unlike the man I just described, this Elder carried a warmth about her... as if she found life to be a deliciously amusing adventure. She smiled as I was introduced to her and her partners, curtseying slightly in her Caledonian attire that consisted of a plaid tam and matching dress that obscured her feet, with a tartan sash that crossed the left shoulder of a white poet blouse.

  If it was just these two visitors to deal with, I liked my chances of surviving without getting my ass handed to me. Provided, of course, that my mind’s swirling contents remained a mystery to them both. However, the third and youngest member of this trio immediately made me wish I could’ve somehow avoided my current circumstance.

  Hard to say exactly why, but I had never encountered anyone quite like this man... a wizard, whose attire wasn’t even necessary for me to know what he was. A sense of incredible power emanated from him; and yeah, that does sound pretty weird, I’m sure. Hell, it feels strange to write it... though it doesn’t make it any less true.

  It wasn’t just a formidable ‘air’
like my Uncle Adrian or Attila von Stroheim carried—no disrespect intended to either of them. Based on what little I know and understand about these magic practitioners, who rank far above the likes of warlocks and witches, I suspected this guy was one of the true elites... a Supreme!

  “Mr. Sebastian Radu... Orpheus Bagley. We meet at last.”

  The other two Elders stood to either side of him, and he alone addressed me... this Orpheus Bagley, dressed in a jeweled blue and purple ceremonial cloak draped over a dark bodysuit. The cloak’s color matched the unique hue of his eyes—intense periwinkle orbs on ice as he regarded me. A handsome man with long blonde locks that hung loosely upon his shoulders, his smile was as chilly as his gaze. If one could ignore the slight curl in his hair, they might say this wizard was damn near a dead ringer for a slightly older version of Jason Isaacs’ portrayal of the famed wizard, Lucius Malfoy, in the Harry Potter films.

  I mean, even the voice and aristocratic edge to his English accent called to mind the aforementioned reference... so much so that I desperately fought the urge to chuckle as I pictured a young Harry meeting Wizard Malfoy for the first time.

  In the meantime, this very real wizard stepped forward, his black riding boots echoing softly against our foyer’s marble tiles. From beneath his cloak he produced a silver-handled black cane, bearing the face of a cobra with the very same periwinkle eyes. He pointed it upstairs toward my bedroom, and then back at me as he drew closer.

  “We’ve traveled far to solve a mystery... one with consequences that could prove quite severe, young Sebastian,” he said, softly. “It all depends on you... what are you hiding?”

  “Nothing,” I replied, hating the dry sandpaper feel in my mouth once again. Jason Isaacs’ Lucius Malfoy double, or not, this wizard carried more creepiness than I cared to linger upon. Something told me he could be relentless in hunting down the truth of a matter. “I’m not hiding anything.”