Erotic Diaries Of A Warlock: Book 1 of 3 (I, Justin)

by Justin Kairo

  I found other ways to make life difficult for myself. I ignored my gifts. I pretended to be someone I wasn’t. I insisted I was just like everybody else.

  Those were difficult years for me and they became worse before they became better. I was lonely and I didn’t know how to change that. Eventually the answer came in a dream. Lanny spoke to me. Or did I just imagine she was talking to me? It doesn’t matter because they are both the same.

  Lanny talked about my time in the hospital. All I thought about was the beating. How I almost died because I was a warlock. Lanny’s words made me stronger. She pointed out what I refused to see. I survived because I was a warlock.

  I had a new perspective. And by the time I met Juliet, I was just beginning to accept myself and come to terms with who I am. A warlock.

  Today I know that no matter how hard I try to deny the truth, I will never—can never—be anything or anyone else.

  But getting there was not an easy path.

  Chapter 12

  Juliet. Long black hair the wind was always blowing across her face.

  Eyes pale blue and sometimes I could feel them penetrating me. There were times when I didn’t know she was in the room with me, and I felt a sharp blade cutting into my back. I turned around and saw Juliet was staring at me with a look so intense I was sure she had transformed her gaze into a knife. With Juliet, caution was required, but the rewards included exciting new dimensions.

  Juliet and I never met. There was no single day or hour that marked the beginning of our friendship. Or a day before when we did not yet know each other.

  In life, all of us devise strange borders for ourselves. We fix a point in time and say that moment was the beginning. We do that with relationships.

  For Juliet and me, these boundaries are lies. The two of us have always known each other. Before birth. Before conception. In other lives and back into infinity where there is no measurement except the reality of consciousness.

  Over the centuries, Juliet and I have come together many many times. More years than I can remember because I cannot remember forever. I can go back a few hundred years (not always clearly) but rarely longer than that.

  Still, I recall clearly the day in this life when Juliet and I became conscious of each other again. The first encounter came when we were both eighteen years old (using the conventional language of markings).

  I was on a bus. The Madison Avenue bus I think, but this kind of detail does not have much reality for me.

  I remember the feeling of motion. We were traveling. Going somewhere, Juliet and me. Both of us on the same bus. Not even sitting near each other. I was in the front. Juliet was in the back. We could not see each other because the bus was crowded and people were standing between us. She got on the bus before me so she did not pass my seat when she walked to the back.

  I did not see her. But suddenly her presence intruded into my consciousness. I became aware that she was there. It happened suddenly but not when I sat down. Strange. It seems logical to me that the moment would occur as our bodies came closer to each other.

  It happened suddenly. Like a low hum. Persistent. A signal. A sound that cannot be ignored and must be followed and traced and pursued. Tracked to its source. A low hum that was a magnet. No point in pretending it wasn’t there. No desire to ignore it. But even if I had wanted to turn off the sounds that were coming at me, I could not have done so. I had no choice.

  I became aware of her presence when the bus stopped in front of a small café. We both knew then that we had to leave the bus and be together in a place where there were not so many other people around us.

  We got off the bus. We had not yet looked at each other. Not in the face. But we both realized who we were with. We had experienced this moment several times before. And yet I had no idea what I would see this time.

  I took in her features after we were off the bus. I studied her black hair and she looked into my eyes. We walked together toward Central Park. This was a weekday afternoon and the park would be less crowded and quieter than the streets.

  I was the first to speak. “Hello, again.”

  “Yes. Again.”

  “I didn’t know it was going to be today.”

  “I did.”

  “You did?” I said.

  “Yes. I was looking. Waiting.”

  “For me it was sudden. I didn’t know it was you until the bus was in front of the café.”

  “It was very strong then. I felt it too of course,” she said.

  “It’s better here in the park. How have you been?”

  “Why do you ask when you know?”

  “Yes, that’s true.”

  I didn’t want to talk anymore. I had the need for silence. She felt it too. It was a strain seeing each other again. At least the way it happened. It was a strain and I was a little tired now but I didn’t want to rest. I didn’t want to go somewhere else. I didn’t want to lie down and be alone. But I did have the need for silence so I could start the sorting. I had to empty my mind. Allow the forces to come at me clearly. Then I would have no doubt what had to be said and done. It was not a matter of figuring out the next step or planning out what was going to happen. I needed to make myself receptive and ready so I would know.

  It was not a physical thing between us in the park. I had felt more desire for her in the past than I did on this day. But we were in contact. I felt her with me. Following me. Being drawn to me. I felt her knowing what I was feeling and where I was going.

  This was a strange feeling for me because it was old and it was new. I had felt it all before. Somewhere. Some time. Though not for a long while.

  I was eighteen and there had been other girls in my life. Some I took skiing. Others played chess with me. More than a few ended up in my arms. But no one was special the way Juliet was going to be. And yet I had no idea what she would be like this time round.

  We were together in the park and I was afraid. I was not ready for the new life she was bringing me. I could not have put it into those words at that time, but I knew being together would lead us in a direction I had tried to avoid after Lanny departed.

  I told myself I had to get her away from me. Protect myself. Protect her. I wanted my life to continue the way it was without changes. I had the fantasy that I would turn around and walk away from her.

  But the more I imagined she was not what I wanted now, the more I realized how much we were drawn to each other. It was always like that. Fighting the inevitable is not a possibility. But I didn’t realize it yet that afternoon.

  Drawn to each other is not quite the truth. In the park, I felt that she was drawn to me. I was pulling her toward me each moment I attempted to will her away. She was becoming part of me again. Being absorbed into my body. Not walking beside me but inside me. She had no choice. Each step I took forward was a step I was forcing her to take with me. She had no control. She was a part of me and because of that, I was afraid I wasn’t safe.

  An important moment and an important afternoon. I became aware of the power I sometimes have over people. For the first time, I sensed my strange effect on women. I can possess them. Take them over. I am almost afraid to say this, but I can make them do whatever I want. This is a power. A gift. Or is it a curse?

  That perception made me more afraid because I started to realize I can use my powers for evil as well as good. A responsibility that terrifies me more than I could have imagined.

  I also see that I do not have much choice about how I use my powers. That is part of my own destiny and I have as little choice as Juliet does.

  We walked in the park and our hands touched. I could feel the contact and knew she could feel it too. We walked for a long time without speaking. A battle was going on inside me and I needed time. I had to wait.

  At this moment, I pretended nothing was happening. I needed to turn the afternoon into a game. Make believe I had picked her up on the bus the way another eighteen year old might have done.

  I wasn’t attracte
d to her. Not in the usual way. My feelings for her were much larger than that. But I chose to pretend that what was happening was only a physical thing.

  “Are you from New York?” I asked. I didn’t care and I didn’t even listen to her answer. She knew that, but she answered my question because she knew it was a part of the game I was playing.

  “I was pretty lucky to bump into you that way,” I said.

  “I was lucky too.”

  “You’re an attractive girl. I’m very attracted to you.” I felt strange saying that because it wasn’t what I was feeling then. And if it were, that was not how I would have let her know. Not with words.

  “Same with me.”

  She was agreeing again and I realized that was all she was going to do. No matter what I said, she would agree. Follow my lead because I was in control and the decisions were mine. She had no choice but to wait and find out where our lives were going.

  “It’s a nice afternoon,” I said. My private joke. Knowing how she would answer. Knowing she would let me enjoy the power. I was the ventriloquist controlling what came from the puppet’s mouth.

  “Yes, it’s a nice afternoon.”

  We were looking straight ahead. I turned sideways to see her eyes, and her head moved along with mine until we faced each other. I stopped walking and she stopped too.

  I was tense from my conflicts and from meeting her again and from the decisions I was not yet able to make. Suddenly the tension broke and it was a game again. We both laughed loud and hard.

  Then I told her it was time to go.

  “How do I get in touch with you?” I asked.

  I played it straight. I asked for her phone number as if I needed those digits on paper in order to reach her again. There was no way to not see her again. We’d meet by accident on another bus on another day or in the park on the paths we had walked this afternoon. We would have met on the street or in a store, but first I needed time to work through my own thoughts.

  She opened up her purse, took out pencil and paper, wrote down her name and number and handed it to me.

  “I’ll call you soon,” I said.

  “I’ll look forward to it.”

  “We’ll go to a movie. Or have dinner.”

  “That will be nice.”

  “I’ll walk you back to the bus stop.”

  “That’s fine,” she said.

  We walked through the park and it was cloudy now. Dark sky and black clouds and it was no accident. There are no accidents. Often we cannot make out the design and need time to understand the meaning. We walked through the park until we reached the bus stop and I waited there with her. We did not talk. I let her get on the bus alone. I was going to take a later bus by myself.

  I said good-bye. I put my hand on the back of her head and kissed her neck. I had a small pin in my fingers, and after I kissed her, the pin touched the spot where my lips had just been and made a small prick on her neck. Very slight. Barely enough to puncture the skin. As she stepped onto the bus facing away from me, I could see a thin red trickle going down her back. Then I opened up the piece of paper she had given me.

  Written next to the number was her name, Juliet Paisley. Underneath was a small drop of blood.

  Chapter 13

  I called her of course, a week later. I was still waiting for the vibrations to settle inside me. I tried to be calm and ready.

  We spoke for a while and said nothing significant. I was still feeling my way. She was with me again. But the fear came back and I surprised myself. Suddenly I said that I had to go and I hung up without waiting for an answer.

  I took the piece of paper with her name and number and put it on the table. I picked up a silver paperweight Lanny had given me—large and heavy with Merlin’s likeness. A Merlinweight. I took it in my hand and slammed it down hard and crushed the piece of paper. Then I set it on fire and held the paper until the flames told me to let go.

  I went to Central Park with the charred remains and buried them in the ground under the spot the two of us had stood when she had written down the number. I walked the streets for a long time and I was free and unthreatened. Glad she was no longer in my life. Not admitting to myself it was inevitable that we would see each other again soon.

  I did not have to wait for the next chance meeting that would not be chance at all. I returned to the apartment and picked up the Merlinweight and brought it to my lips. On the bottom of the Merlinweight I saw the imprint of her name and number. There from the moment I had slammed down the Merlinweight on the paper.

  I called her again and we met but I was still not settled. I knew she could sense my will, and I made certain her forces never came too close to my own. I kept our bodies at a distance too. It helped not to feel her skin against mine. Or did it?

  We went to the movies on the afternoon of our second meeting. I touched her fingers once or twice in the theatre and held her hand a little. Later in the movie I closed my eyes and moved to a world farther away. But I never forgot she was next to me. Even though I couldn’t tell anymore if we were touching. But it didn’t matter. Because in my mind I was touching her and nothing else was important.

  At dinner, we talked and sometimes touched and sometimes I thought we were touching but I wasn’t sure. We were getting to know each other again. I wasn’t pushing her away but I wasn’t pulling her closer. I was waiting.

  We saw each other often and nothing changed. Then she invited me to her parents’ house in Connecticut for the weekend. They owned acres of land with grass and fruit trees and a small brook. She told me they would be there too. She thought so, but I knew they would be called away and Juliet and I would be alone.

  I agreed to go away with her for the weekend. I decided this naturally romantic setting would encourage us to have a more conventional love. And drive away the other love that was threatening me. One I was not yet able to picture. I had the talent (or the misfortune) of being able to see into the future, but at this moment I was blind.

  We drove there, and I played another game in the car. I pretended we were inexperienced. She was my girlfriend and I was shy. I put my right hand around her shoulder and steered with only one hand on the wheel. Occasionally I turned to her and smiled. I imagined we were an innocent young couple just beginning to fall in love and soon we might have our first kiss.

  But I wasn’t relaxed and comfortable. Something was tugging at me. Juliet? My past? Hers? A force I was waiting to understand?

  I tried touching her more. I let my arm reach around her back and circle her and I rested my right hand on her shoulder. It was what the boy and the girl in my fantasy would do. I still had no idea how the man and woman in the car would behave.

  I thought about movies and the television commercials I created for the ad agency where I was an intern. Boys and girls feeling and acting romantic. I tried to remember how they behaved. I reached for her hand and clasped it in mine, giving it an affectionate little squeeze.

  I thought about kissing her. We stopped for a traffic light, and I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. I put my fingers behind her head and gently stroked her hair. It seemed like the right way to behave if I was going to act the way I imagined other people did. I was pretending. Trying to fool myself.

  We were holding hands when we walked into her parents’ house. Still playing the game. I imagined we were a boy and a girl in love skipping through the front door in a television commercial.

  As soon as I met her father, I knew we were acting in the wrong scene. He didn’t like seeing us that way. He was jealous.

  Mr. Paisley wore thick glasses, a frown, a mustache and a cigar. He chewed the end of his cigar. I could tell that he never looked at people. He examined them. Analyzed and dissected them. The only conclusions that interested him was whether they they were like him or different.

  I knew at once I had to change the role I was playing. I took away the veneer of young romance that made her father chew the stub of his cigar so hard. I treated Juliet differen
tly. I smiled at her with respect and threw away the young couple in love act. I nodded my head frequently when Mr. Paisley spoke. He stopped examining me. He began being comfortable with me. He started to like me.

  I could see he had no glimmer that I was exactly the sort of young man a protective father should be concerned about if he was trying to look out for his daughter’s welfare.

  There was no way this father could perceive the ways I might be dangerous for Juliet. My world was still too subtle and strange for even me to comprehend fully. There was no possibility Mr. Cigar would ever know.

  He could pick out the young boys he imagined would take advantage of his daughter sexually. But I would never belong in that mold. And yet he looked at me as someone safe.

  Over the centuries, Juliet had rarely been conventional. I wondered how and why she emerged this time as the offspring of a two dimensional father and a mother too bland and self-effacing to even describe.

  Her parents were the ordinary couple Juliet and I pretended we were in the car. Only older. Mr. R was a conventional cigar chewing mustached Connecticut businessman welcoming an innocent young man to his house and to his life and to his daughter’s future.

  If he could have even started to understand what lay ahead for us, his brain would have turned into combustible chemicals and exploded on his perfectly manicured lawn.

  Friday night was an ordinary domestic evening. Dinner, talk, television. Juliet and I holding hands innocently as we listened to the old man tell stories about how he had made it big in business.

  Self-made. It takes spunk. Drive. You gotta stay in there and you can’t give up. Gotta tell yourself you’ll show them all and make it big with money to burn. But you never burn it. You watch every penny and you don’t let them take advantage of you and charge more because they think you can afford it. Always get what you’re entitled to and what you deserve. Make sure it’s never less and, if you play your cards right, maybe more.