Submerging Inferno

by Brandon Witt

  “Enough, Caitlin!” Wendell’s face was nearly purple, and no longer sounding tired, his voice reverberated with fury. “I told you to watch how you speak. If you weren’t my daughter and if I didn’t love you, I would make you leave—vampire or not. You’re correct. This is my roof”—he glanced back at Paulette, who was beet red, whether from anger or sadness I wasn’t sure—“our roof. We will decide who can be under it! There will be no discussion if Brett is welcome or not. The decision was made, and not just because there is a vampire on the loose. He has done nothing to show that he is or will be a danger to any of us. Your prejudice is based on fear and weakness, Caitlin, and you are better than this! Your brother cares about him, and I believe Brett cares about your brother. That is all any of us need to know or ask. That is enough to make him welcome, always. Every one of us is staying here.” Caitlin opened her mouth to argue, but Wendell cut her off with a wave of his hand. “No arguments, Caitlin. You are staying too, even if I have to use every element under the heavens to keep you here. You are not going to be killed out of your own petty spite. So, either be cordial and polite or keep your mouth shut and stay in your room!” He finished his speech by pointing his finger up the stairs toward the bedroom.

  Her face crimson and on the verge of tears, Caitlin squared her shoulders and marched across the room, paused by the front door as if weighing her options, and then made her way up the stairs.

  It was a rather humiliating experience for everyone in the room, and a horrible ending to a hard, heartbreaking day. While I appreciated both Wendell’s defense of me and his acknowledgement of how Finn and I felt about each other, I couldn’t help but have some amount of sympathy for Caitlin. For a woman of thirty who had so much pride, it had to be debasing to be lectured and sent to her room like a child. Finn must have felt similarly, as he didn’t say anything negative about Caitlin as we crawled into his bed, discussing the day before we fell asleep, his head cradled on my chest.

  Chapter 25

  THE next day was stressful and equally exhausting. Everyone slept in until the late morning, except for Cynthia, who had left shortly after the meeting, as soon as the sun was up enough for Paulette and Wendell to feel safe about her being on her own. She opened the bakery. Finding this out made me begin to see Cynthia in a different light. She might be timid and scared, but she obviously had a portion of the de Morisco strength that was abundantly evident in the rest of the family.

  When I woke up, Finn had already gotten out of bed. He and his mother had a huge breakfast on the table by the time everyone else had woken. Even with the tension from the night before still thick in the air, breakfast was an experience unlike any I had ever had, one that made me long to relive it over and over again. Despite subtle hostile looks from Caitlin and her refusal to speak to anyone, the meal was filled with chatter and laughter from Peter and Saul. Although forced, everyone seemed to do their best to put on cheerful faces for the sake of the children, never discussing the vampire or the plans for Rodrigo’s service, which would take place on the day after next.

  Growing up, while I knew that Grandma loved me, I’d never experienced this sort of gathering, filled with all the members of the family coming together and showing one another care and concern. Being a part of it made me feel even closer to Finn. I’d been spliced into the de Morisco family with Caitlin being the only hiccup. While I appreciated it and wanted to allow myself to slip right into the role, it made me wonder if I had whatever it took inside to pull off such a seemingly Norman Rockwell existence—if the painter had included scenes of vampires, demons, and witches. I wasn’t sure the old Brett Wright had the settling-down gene, much less the newly demonized Brett Wright.

  THE next two days were unlike any I could have ever dreamed up. It was somehow decided that I would spend my days helping out Wendell in the costume shop. Finn and Paulette were constantly bringing over different pastries and snacks. I was suddenly thankful for my demon-given metabolism, and wondered how the de Moriscos weren’t all as large as elephants. Even Cynthia would pop over from time to time, occasionally giving me an intimidated attempt at a smile, a gesture that made me grateful for her trying to accept my presence and guilty over being the source of so much fear.

  Several times throughout the day, Wendell made offhanded remarks about Caitlin, often complaining about shallow things such as her constantly changing hair color and her choices in girlfriends. I got the impression he was used to her popping over from her store as much as the rest of the family, and that their current alienation was taking a larger toll on him than he was willing to admit.

  The majority of people who came through the store were everyday, average humans, expecting nothing more than fun, novelty gag-gift items, or wanting to rent a costume for such-and-such occasion. However, every once in a while, after a particular patron left, Wendell would come over and tell me that they were a witch or warlock. He showed me how he had actual magical merchandise spread throughout all the novelty items. Of course, he referred to them as elemental materials—still seemed like magic to me. Some of the things were rather obvious after he pointed them out: crystals, herbs, certain rocks, and bones (that I had previously assumed were made of resin or something—not so much). Conversely, there were other things that I never would have thought would be used for magical purposes, such as differing masks and robes, enchanted mirrors, picture frames, small vials of water and sand from different regions, and even some of the packaged snacks that were arranged on a variety of shelves behind the cash register.

  I found all the magical supplies interesting, things I never would have imagined, but my favorite part was the customers. After the first couple of people who Wendell told me were other witches, we made it a game. When each person left, he would raise an eyebrow questioningly. I would then take a guess whether the person was human or a witch. By the middle of the second day, I was beginning to have a fairly accurate record. I couldn’t place my finger on what it was that made the difference, outside of the fact that all of them were at least a little above the average attractiveness level, but other than that, there really weren’t any telltale signs. They didn’t move differently or speak differently. There was a wide variety and range in the ways they dressed, and they didn’t even treat Wendell any differently than his human clientele did. However, after a while, I began to notice a certain feeling I would get when a witch or warlock would enter the store. It was a sense of suddenly being just a touch more awake, like they radiated a small electrical charge that heightened the sensations around them.

  There were two people that came in the second day who I instantly knew were other than human. However, they didn’t have the same feeling as the witches who came in the store. The first was one of the most exotic women I had ever seen. She entered the store with her head covered in a shimmering, translucent blue veil. As soon as Wendell noticed her, he went over and locked the front door and removed the open sign.

  “Hello, Amalphia.” His normally gentle and caring voice was filled with a tone of respect and awe that I hadn’t heard from him before.

  Before she replied, she stepped further into the store, away from the windows, as she pushed her veil away from her face, letting it fall in folds around her shoulders. Her hair, though long and thick, looked nearly transparent, except for a faint greenish-blue tint. Every plane of her face was angled and pointed, in a way that seemed like it shouldn’t have existed in nature, but came together to form a fragile, ethereal beauty. “Hello, Wendell. I trust you are well.” It wasn’t a question. Her voice made me long for the ocean, and once again, my skin began to feel as if it were ready to crack and flake off.

  “Euphrates again, my lady?” Wendell’s head did a slight deferential nod as he addressed her.

  She shook her head, the motion causing the reflected light from her hair to scatter prisms of color off the walls. “I think the Tigris this time. I don’t know what I might be missing. I hope there may be a greater power in the soil from the East, where
dawn’s light touches first.”

  I hadn’t the slightest clue what they were talking about. I didn’t even venture a guess.

  Wendell gave another nod, stepped away for a few moments, and then returned with one of the small vials filled with sand and water. The sand in this one was a dark, murky brown color that tainted the water above it. “If this one still isn’t what you need, let’s try Konar. I really believe it may hold the answer.”

  “I do not think the source is in Asia, not from the sense I am getting from it, but if this fails, very well.” She slipped the vial into the folds of her gown and reached up, once again hiding her features under the veil. In a gentle rush of cool air, she turned and slipped through the door as Wendell reached out to unlock it.

  I stood there for a second until he turned around, a distant, dreamy expression on his face.

  “Wendell, what was that?”

  “Hmm?” He gave his head a little shake, and his eyes slowly slid into focus on my face. “Oh yes. Sorry. What was it you needed, Brett?”

  “What was she? She obviously wasn’t human. Was she a different kind of witch? She seemed to put you in some sort of trance, and she didn’t even pay.”

  “Goodness, no, she didn’t pay. Her kind will never pay. What they do, they do for all of us. Humans included.”

  “Really? What is she?”

  “She’s a nymph. A river nymph, to be more precise.”

  “Oh.” That didn’t really help. “What’s a nymph?”

  For a moment he looked up at me in confusion, as if it was inconceivable that I wouldn’t know what a nymph was. “I keep forgetting how new all of this is to you. Sorry, Brett. A nymph is similar to a fairy, I suppose. Well, no, not really, but I guess in human terms…. There are wood nymphs, nymphs of the air, water nymphs, like Amalphia. They protect and nurture different aspects of nature.”

  “There are fairies too?” Every answer I got seemed to only bring more questions.

  Wendell just gave a small smile and a nod as he returned to restocking the rack of cheap magic tricks for children.

  The other patron who was instantly identifiable as a nonhuman was a giant of a man who came into the store only a few minutes before it closed. I noticed Wendell stiffen and draw himself up before I saw the man. He was easily a head taller than me. While he was massive, it was easy to see he was completely lean, no excess fat on him at all. He radiated strength. More than strength. Every movement was fluid and intentional. It was his eyes, though, that gave him away more than anything else. They were black. I couldn’t tell if they were all pupil or if the iris was black and just blended in.

  He had only come in a few feet when I saw his nostrils flare. He jerked his head toward me, taking me in with his dark eyes. His top lip curled, and a low, trembling growl emanated from him.

  “It’s okay, Farvin. He’s with me.” Wendell took a cautious step out from behind the counter and moved closer to me.

  The man’s eyes didn’t break away from mine. It was everything I could do to continue to meet his gaze without glancing away. However, something in me knew that to do so would be a misstep. “I thought you had more sense, Wendell. You should consider the company you keep.” His voice was so low and gravelly that it took me a few seconds to sort out what he had said. “If I had known you were what he was talking about….” A disgusted laugh escaped him. “Definitely not your typical boyfriend.”

  This time, I looked away—sending Wendell a what the hell is he talking about glare.

  “I vouch for him, Farvin. He’s with me,” Wendell repeated, his voice sounding more declarative.

  The man’s gaze finally left me and moved to Wendell. As it did, I felt my shoulders loosen, and tension I hadn’t realized I’d been holding escaped. “I’ll return at a time when your shop is fit for other customers. I thought to warn you of dangerous choices of those around you. However, it appears to be a family trait.”

  Wendell didn’t respond, but took another step, this time entering the space between myself and the man. After a moment, the huge man turned and left the store in three great strides.

  I turned to Wendell. This time I was confident. “Werewolf?”

  “Yeah.” Wendell nodded as he walked over to flip the closed sign. “Farvin’s never exactly pleasant, but he typically makes more sense. I think it’s time we gather the family and go home.”

  “I take it werewolves and demons don’t get along so well.”

  Wendell only gave me a warning glance and then began to close up the store.

  IT WAS a new experience, sleeping next to someone. Even in my past “relationships” and dating experience, after sex we would each return to our own houses to sleep. I was surprised how comfortable I was with Finn next to me, his gentle snoring serving as soothing white noise instead of an irritant. He twisted and turned more than I thought was normal, but I didn’t really have any reference. It was almost awe inducing to feel him curl up next to me, his body forming to mine, his thick arms wrapping around my chest. After a brief discussion, we decided that neither of us wanted our first time to be under his parents’ roof with his family all around us. The tension of knowing his naked body was next to mine and that I couldn’t yet take full advantage of it was the only aspect of sleeping with him that kept me awake.

  On my two-hour shifts of keeping “guard duty” in the living room, I rifled through photo album after photo album. Some of them dated back as far as Paulette’s and Wendell’s childhoods. It was amusing to see pictures of Finn as a child and an awkward teen. I couldn’t help but laugh at photos of a thirteen-year-old Finn in a lime-green suit and baby-blue cowboy boots at Cynthia’s Quinceañera. All the other boys around the girls were dressed in black and blue suits. However, Finn’s suit matched the sash around Cynthia’s dress. That probably helped minimize any shock when Finn had decided to come out of the closet to his family. In addition to intensifying my ache over Sonia and her parents, the photo albums once again brought on the ever more familiar emotions of excitement and apprehension over the possibility of becoming part of a family.

  ASIDE from being with and sleeping next to Finn, the evenings were my favorite part of the day, despite the increasing tension as each night grew longer. Each moment that passed was one more that could bring the vampire closer to attacking. However, each was also another moment that he didn’t come and everyone was okay.

  To have gone from a family of three to living with just Sonia, it was surreal to be in a home crowded with ten people.

  There was always noise, always a wait for the restrooms, always some sort of bickering going on, always laughter. I knew if I had to stay here for days on end, I would probably rip my hair out and run away screaming. Given the current turn of events, I would probably end up exploding into a ball of flames. However, at the moment, it was a taste of a life that I had always wondered about but never really thought I would get to experience. I liked it. At least, I thought so.

  It was also fascinating to see the inside, everyday life of the de Moriscos, and how what I called magic was as natural to them as breathing. If you weren’t paying attention, it would be easy to miss. They cooked and cleaned like everyone else. There weren’t brooms floating around sweeping the floor all on their own, and the dishes didn’t wash themselves. However, it was a constant when Paulette and Wendell were cooking that a drawer would open and a cooking utensil or different spice would shoot into their outstretched hand. More than once, as the children were playing, they would knock over a lamp or vase, and it would fall to the floor and break. Christina would get on the children for their carelessness, but by the time she had picked up the pieces, whatever had broken once again sat back in its place, whole.

  Peter and Saul were the most interesting to watch. Unlike the adults in the family (Ricky not included, I discovered), they were not yet able to cast spells without using words. As they played in the middle of the living room floor, action figures and Legos floated around them amid their soft murmuring. To m
y great pleasure, the boys let me play with their handheld video games. Somehow, they had bewitched them so the figures rose off the screen in a sort of hologram.

  Both evenings after dinner, the entire family, even Caitlin, who had ceased sauntering around like a wounded animal but still refused to speak to me, played games together. The first evening we played old-fashioned board games (Clue, Monopoly, and Life). The pieces moved on their own, guided by a finger or even just a gaze.

  The second night, after Peter and Saul begged relentlessly, the family gave in and played hide-and-seek throughout the house. Their twist on the game was that everyone was invisible, both the people hiding and the person seeking. Ricky did not join in this game because he was not able to sustain his invisibility spell without recasting, thus giving his hiding spot away. To his credit, I was impressed to notice that he neither seemed embarrassed nor resentful of the fact that his wife had greater power than he did. He sat on the couch and hollered out good-natured taunts to the person seeking everyone else.

  I, of course, hid the traditional way, having to find something large enough to hold my mass while still concealing my bulk from view. The boys, having never played this way before, squealed in delight each time they discovered me hiding behind the clothes in the closet or hunkered down between the washing machine and the wall.

  It wasn’t until I was the designated seeker that I discovered another aspect of being a demon that I hadn’t been aware of.

  I prepared myself to not let on when I discovered Peter or Saul. They had to keep chanting to stay invisible, so everyone would tiptoe by them, pretending not to hear them, until enough time passed that the boys would start giggling and be discovered by default. However, without meaning to, I glanced over under the kitchen table as I heard the muttered castings of Peter.