Witch out of Water
Page 28
At first, the broomstick stayed the course with the same moderate speed while roughly a dozen ‘enemy’ hands kept trying to grab onto her. All the while, Daciana tightened her grip around my waist like an anaconda—heightening my worry that someone would try to yank her free from behind.
Faster dammit! Can’t this ancient double-twisted relic get the frigging lead out of her ass?
As if aware of my silent scolding, we suddenly sped up... a lot. Enough of a jolt to cause our assailants to let go.
So, that was good, although I now worried we’d be in the line of wand fire. To my knowledge, the protective wands provided by Wizard Gabon were likely in my backpack... unless in the panic and rush to leave in haste, they ended up being left behind in my bedroom.
I wanted to ask Daciana if our wands were packed inside the backpack she carried upon her back. But it seemed dangerously foolish to distract her while Viviane headed straight for the wall of darkly cloaked witches and warlocks looming directly in front of us. As our broomstick accelerated, the collection of menacing blue and green eyes dead-ahead sort of reminded me of twinkling stars in a sea of darkness—though much eerier than any glistening celestial body at night could ever be.
“Oh, dear God, Viviane’s going to try to pass through them!” Daciana warned. “She did the same thing when they had me surrounded in Gibraltar yesterday.... Shit!”
Huh?
“Well, it worked well enough to bring you back home to America!” I responded, raising my voice to be heard over the growing din as we neared the wall. “It ought to work again, right?
“No! You don’t understand, Bas!”
Understand what? I wondered.
But then the realization of what she likely meant hit me full-on an instant later. Or, rather, the first fireballs launched from hundreds of wands outstretched in our direction made it clear that Viviane’s Kamikaze approach was about to be met by repeated flurries of wand shots to take us down.
I think I’ve mentioned before what can kill a warlock or witch in my previous journal. Since this isn’t the best spot to go through the entire list, suffice it to say that wand shots have the same effect as a barrage of bullets do upon mortal human beings.
Yeah, we could be dead as doornails in a nanosecond.
The initial shots heading our way seemed to be warnings, as surely, I should’ve already been pulverized by now. As if not only sensing my growing distress, but also the likelihood all three of us could be down for the count in the next few seconds, Viviane suddenly reversed course, stopping on a dime and twirling rapidly as she spun around and headed back toward Chaffin’s Bend. She continued to twirl, forcing me to close my eyes while I focused entirely on maintaining my tenuous grip on her. I assumed Daciana did the same, as her grip upon my waist became almost suffocating. Through it all, near misses from countless wand shots sizzled past us as we fled.
“Daci, are you okay back there?” I shouted, with my eyes closed.
“I’m hanging on! ... About to puke though!”
“Yeah, me too!”
Obviously somewhat sensitive by now to our physical limitations, Viviane slowed slightly, and the twirls and gut-churning roller-coaster somersaults eased. At least for a moment—long enough for me to open my eyes. The coast ahead remained free of obstructions, rekindling hope of a successful escape. I clearly pictured a new path to the courthouse, following Chaffin’s Bend to do a ‘double back’ trek toward downtown.
Hang on just a little bit longer, and we’ll be free of the bastards and our neighborhood’s boundaries....
But then I glanced over my shoulder. “Ahh, holy hell,” I murmured. Daciana’s attention was drawn as well to the mass of warlocks and witches on the verge of overtaking us from behind.
“They’re seeking to cut us off again!” she lamented, as our eyes followed their flight above and then beyond us, with a subsequent arrival to our latest intended destination. Within seconds, our adversaries had largely completed a second ‘human wall’, this time blocking the intersection of Old Dominion and Chaffin’s Bend.
Dammit all! We’re stuck again, and right back where we started, in front of Twin Magnolias!
Viviane slowed to a halt, less than fifty yards away from where our adversaries waited. My heart sank, as it appeared our broomstick had given up. I began picturing my beloved and me leaping off and making an ill-fated mad-dash toward downtown through the neighborhood, recklessly scurrying through backyards, alleyways, or any other available route to get there.
My desperation made it seem somewhat plausible... until I noticed Wizard Orpheus and the rest of the EEC’s contingent gathering near the Victorian wrought iron gate in front of my home, along with my distressed family.
If that wasn’t alarming enough, Daciana trembled as she wept behind me. Her misgivings were surely enhanced by the deepening shadow partially obliterating the moon’s luminance, as a dozen guardians rapidly descended toward us. Their red and yellow eyes blazed hotly within scowling faces as I briefly gauged their progress.
This shit can’t get any worse... or can it?
“Indeed, it can and will get worse, Sebastian!” Orpheus declared, stepping through the gate and onto the street. He stealthily moved toward us with his jeweled cane in one hand and an ornately decorated wand with a heated orange tip in the other. “Sadly, the time for mercy has passed. Judgment... will now be served.”
It would soon be over, for me at least. I figured I had maybe ten to twenty seconds left in this world, painfully aware this realization was also announced to everyone who could freely read my thoughts again. Would anyone blame me if my mind turned to mush while preparing to be sent to a much more brutal purgatorial existence than the one I had emerged from just eleven days ago?
Yeah, feeling like such a loser almost made it easy to resign myself to defeat. Almost... until something akin to defiant anger suddenly ignited from deep within my soul. Wish I could say if it came from me, or if it originated from somewhere, or someone, else. I might never know that answer.... But just as Wizard Bagley aimed his wand at my chest, a violent protest flew out of my mouth. Most of it was unintelligible gibberish, I’m sure, which likely bought me the few extra seconds to shout a lucid command.
“Viviane! I command you to take us to Sorin Gabon! Now!”
Immediate gasps arose from all around us, while my mother and sister erupted into heartrending sobs. There might’ve been other despondent responses as well... but all I noticed was Orpheus Bagley’s periwinkle eyes taking on an arctic luminous glint. No doubt, in that instant he might’ve been tempted to simply obliterate me, rather than toss my ass back into the slammer. But before he could respond, Viviane sprang to life.
No, that’s not quite right... let’s try this again. Our volatile broomstick suddenly became a heat-seeking missile. A missile, I should say, headed straight for the latest witch and warlock wall that wasn’t fully ready to respond.
I braced myself for a full-on wand assault, or a massive deadly collision with either distant relatives or enemies. However, as we zoomed through the air, I noticed a transparent golden sheath now surrounded us.
A protective shield of some sort, perhaps?
“Oh shit, hang on!”
Just before reaching the wall, amid a flurry of wand shots directed to hit us—but bouncing harmlessly off the shield, Viviane abruptly shot skyward. She veered toward an unobstructed brilliant moon, just three days shy of its fullness. Near vertical in her trajectory, I worried even more about losing my grip on the broomstick and slipping off, tumbling like a stone toward the ground along with Daciana. Granted, it wouldn’t be a complete free fall for either of us... or so I hoped. Previously, the highest I had ever drifted above the Earth was three hundred feet. In a matter of seconds, Viviane was approaching several thousand feet in elevation.
The air quickly became frigid around us, and despite a slight warmth provided by the translucent golden sheath, both Daciana and I shivered uncontrollably.
“Vi-v-viane... pl-le-ease... t-take us t-t-to... S-so-r-rin,” I stammered with my teeth chattering.
Not sure that I’m fond of this broomstick’s sense of timing, or humor—especially, when considering my fingers’ numbness made my grip far less secure than it was previously. The moment I uttered my frozen plea, Viviane stopped moving. But only momentarily.
In the next instant, she dove back down to Earth.
As terrifying as it may sound, it was worse than any skydive or monster rollercoaster I’ve ever been on. Far worse! Even more terrifying than the craziest wormhole adventures I’ve had—including the harrowing experience I shared with my broomstick, Lucian, less than a week earlier.
Admittedly, I screamed, and pretty shrilly, too—which often softens the terror aspect. Most any thrill-ride enthusiasts would agree, I’m sure, that yelling or screaming usually helps make a frightening event a helluva lot more enjoyable.
Well, maybe that’s true for most thrill-rides... but not when clinging to a broomstick seemingly hellbent on breaking the sound barrier!
Screams from both Daci and me turned to blood-curdling shrieks as we raced toward the Earth’s surface. Surrounded by a blur of details while covering the distance back to Denmark in a matter of seconds, it wasn’t until Viviane returned to a horizontal position just outside downtown that I realized we were about to land in the courthouse park area.
And, at this speed, it couldn’t be anything but a crash landing! Fortunately, one of the taller pin oaks broke our fall, although all three of us—broomstick, my beloved, and me—were spewed onto the lawn as a tumbling mess.
“Are you okay?” I asked Daciana, after running over to where she stood dusting herself off.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said.
I noticed a trickle of blood on her left cheek, and could see the wound that caused it, from an oak branch, was already nearly healed. Similar scratches and deep bruises covered her arms, as well as mine, and were also healing quickly. In the next few minutes, they would be completely unnoticeable.
“Where’s Viviane?” I asked, looking around us.
At the moment, the immediate park area sat deserted. Not all that unusual for the downtown square on a Sunday evening in the fall, as most locals would gravitate to the other side of the square where Tuttle’s and an English Tea Room sat (not far from the new Italian restaurant I mentioned previously). But since it was after seven o’clock and at the end of the weekend, even those venues had likely closed up by now.
“Oh, my God—she’s lying on the ground over here!”
Daciana ran over to where the broomstick lay motionless, not far from the park bench I shared with my grandfather exactly one week ago, and Rhiana Johnson yesterday morning. My beloved gently lifted Viviane, eyeing me sadly.
“I think she might be dead.”
“What? Are you sure?”
“Yes!”
I hurried over to where she stood, gently caressing the double-broom’s contours. I joined her in lovingly touching Viviane. Though I barely knew this broomstick, a wave of sadness swept over me. After all, this wasn’t any ordinary broomstick, where even the more typical of these ‘sentient beings’ become cherished companions. Knowing this broomstick was once a deeply loved ally of the famed Wizard Myrddin was enough to bring tears to our eyes.
After confirming that nothing but cold silence emanated from within Viviane, a host of obvious questions ensued.
What do we do now? She was our rendezvous ticket to meet Sorin Gabon....
“I don’t know,” Daciana replied to my unspoken worry with sadness. “I honestly have no idea....”
“What is it?” I asked, when she suddenly gasped.
Rather than answer me, she pointed across the street. I followed her gaze.
Ahh, hell... it just figures!
Flanked by a mass of Radus and Mateis, and the full EEC contingent sent to Denmark, Tennessee to stop our union, Wizard Orpheus Bagley rapidly approached. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to state the wizard and his companions’ feet barely touched the ground as they hurried toward us.
Meanwhile, my longing glance toward the Herschel County Courthouse’s empty bell tower—looming six stories above the park area below it—provided no assurance whatsoever that help was on the way.
With nowhere to hide or run to, and our only advantage—Viviane—having seemingly died from our shared misadventure, the only thing I could do was draw Daciana close to me.
“I love you with all my heart,” I whispered to her.
“And I you,” she said softly.
With that, we turned our attention to the group of Elders stepping forward from the group. The anger from earlier was still quite palpable—especially the wrath exuding from Wizard Bagley and the blonde female I believed to be Serena Matei.
I looked past them for a moment, noticing the saddened faces of my family and our constables within the sea of scowling Radus. Similarly, within the heated brood of Mateis were the familiar faces from Daciana’s family, who seemed increasingly incensed as Daciana snuggled against my shoulder.
“Well, perhaps this is a better ending than what might’ve been... at least we tried,” I mused quietly.
“Yes, we gave it our best effort,” Daciana agreed, reaching up to kiss me.
“Enough!” shouted Wizard Bagley. “This must end now!”
A sudden breeze picked up around us as I ignored him, allowing for this final intimate moment with my dear Daci to be everything it could be.
Of course, once again I fully expected for both of us to be pulled apart from each other—permanently this time. And, I assumed the increasingly strong breeze surrounding us to be part of this wizardry effort on the part of Orpheus, with perhaps even Serena pitching in to make this severing of our hearts especially excruciating.
That’s what I envisioned, and believed Daciana anticipated this as well.
But then another translucent sheen, burnished in gold, appeared around us. To my astonishment, it rapidly gained thickness, soon mimicking the protective sheath from earlier.
Daciana shared the same surprised smile as mine; and to our further amazement, Viviane trembled in her free hand.
She’s alive? Oh, thank God!
When we looked back at the crowd of our loved ones and adversaries, they seemed to be shouting at us... but no sound could be heard. My beloved and I exchanged bewildered looks... and then the sheath’s radiating light suddenly intensified. It shimmered with enough heat to force everyone in the crowd before us to shield their eyes as if under a painful assault.
As for us, there wasn’t any discomfort. While I silently wondered what craziness would come next, we rose into the air, spinning until we faced the courthouse bell tower, now obscured by the largest wormhole I’ve ever seen—even bigger than any of the host of wormholes I had witnessed in this very place just yesterday. Within it stood a solitary figure, a man, bathed in a halo of bright white light. Dressed in a crimson and gold ornamental robe, this magisterial person and the immense wormhole he stood within momentarily hid Denmark’s ancient iron bell, as well as the belfry.
Is this Sorin Gabon?
Hard to say for certain, since the man appeared to be elderly, dressed in the raiment of the legendary wizards of old, like the Croatian statue of Gregorius Ninnius, and sporting a long white beard and pointed cap that matched his robe.
We soon were close enough to better discern his features, and I recognized the face from an old tintype belonging to my grandmother that Grandpa found several days ago. At the time, my grandfather was trying to settle a friendly argument between my uncles about the true identity of the much younger man Alisia and I saw portrayed in Attila von Stroheim’s art gallery versus the lecherous old fool Grandma still swears is the real Sorin Gabon.
Looks like Grandma might be right after all... dude is definitely ancient.
He laughed merrily while waving for us to come to him, and as we drifted toward the wormhole, his appearance began to change. If I
had allowed the distraction of the wormhole’s gorgeous array of colors to divert my attention any longer, I might’ve missed the dissolution of the elderly man that left a much younger man in his place. A man who appeared to be a dead ringer for the ‘Sorin Gabon’ painted by Rembrandt long ago and later photographed here in Denmark, ironically in the very spot where hundreds of angry witches, warlocks, and wizards were still gathered below.
“Come join me, dearest Daciana and Sebastian!”
The man’s baritone voice was rich, carrying a pronounced eastern European accent.
“So, it really is you... you’re Sorin Gabon?” I said, tentatively looking around us as the sheath gave way to the wormhole... or whatever this passageway was.
Yes, it had all of the ethereal qualities of a wormhole, with the rich sunrise/sunset colors I was accustomed to seeing. But it was also somehow different—and not just because it also carried emerald, sapphire, and crimson hues. It felt more like it led to someplace closer than what a wormhole was useful for... like a gateway to a destination within walking distance.
“You were expecting the man whom Florina offered up in sacrifice, so long ago?”
He laughed, and it seemed to echo around us. Sort of like being in the presence of an Olympian deity of ancient lore.
I nodded. “Sort of... but I also recognize you from the portrait and photograph in Wizard von Stroheim’s studio. This is who you really are, right?”
“Yes, this is me... the real Sorin Gabon,” he affirmed. “You could say it is Sorin Gabon III, since my great-grandfather and grandfather were the first two Sorins in our family. My father hated his name, Octavian, and was anxious to resume the line of Sorins. But, unfortunately, I am the last in that line.”
His smile faded for a moment, but he seemed to catch himself, and the handsome radiance returned. I noticed his emerald eyes were like my Uncle Adrian’s—somewhat obscured in Rembrandt’s painting—and he sported a similar beard to my uncle as well. Even his build and shoulder length hair called to mind the Samson-like appearance of Adrian, who was likely ‘fit to be tied’ somewhere down below us at that very moment.