The Witches Of Denmark

by Aiden James

  * * * * *

  The hardest thing about residing in a newly determined war zone is knowing when the actual ‘war’ will start. I’m talking about something well beyond sniper fire, or a traditional Molotov cocktail smashing through a front picture window. It would likely feature hand-to-hand combat, and in our case, wand-to-wand warfare.

  Keep in mind that the war zone’s expanse covered the entire town of Denmark, and that distinction made everything from the post office to the local barbeque stands, barber shops, and square boutiques fair game. For the noble citizens of our mini-metropolis, it meant the only safe place for them was in their houses, shuttered, locked, and if possible, barricaded inside a steel-enforced storm cellar.

  Deathly afraid of local casualties and assured exposure of our warlock and witch status either by video and still shots from smart phones owned by normal human bystanders or the local press, I braced myself for when the initial Matei attack would start. And, most definitely, we wanted them to strike first.

  Because of their obvious leeriness of Adrian, it seemed logical they would wait for a moment of separation to capitalize on. At the same time, he wasn’t about to leave us alone for a single minute.

  Count on my sis to be the first one to say ‘Hell no!’ to that shit and defy Adrian’s big brotherly protectiveness. Which brings us to….

  Day 51, Thursday, July 9th

  “You promised last week to take me to the little ice cream parlor off the square,” she said, when I told her I intended to stay home, and indoors, until the shit storm blew over. “We can bring our wands as a precaution, and I’ve got Manuel’s cell number programmed in my phone.”

  “Didn’t you hear what Dad told us this morning?” I asked, perturbed by her persistence to test new boundaries in this hostile environment. “He told us to stick around here, with the yard markers serving as our boundaries.”

  “I heard what he said… but I didn’t hear one damned thing about having to do anything, other than be careful,” she countered. “The square is just two blocks away, so in a very real sense walking there isn’t much different than walking around our yard a few times. So, we can either die from excessive boredom, or not give in to the Matei assholes and enjoy a double-decker ice cream cone.”

  She added an almost seductive doe-eyed stare that had almost always worked on me since her first kindergarten tour, back in 1943. It almost worked right then… almost.

  “That magical ice cream delight you speak of will still be there once things simmer down,” I told her, trying to muster enough charm to let her down gently. “In fact, simmering down would be a good thing to consider for you.”

  Well… nearly a gentle landing. But, Alisia was far from ready to give up on getting what she wanted that day. Not sure if it was really the ice cream she craved, or instead, her steadfast loathing of being told what she could and couldn’t do.

  “Okay, you win, Bas,” she said, grabbing her wand and broomstick before heading for the front door.

  We stood in the foyer, and everyone else enjoyed an unexpected cool afternoon on the back porch. I damned near yelled for them to help me stop my obstinate sis from leaving. But Alisia exited the house before I could. I ran after her.

  “So, are you coming or not?” she said, wearing an elfin grin while her broomstick quivered in her grip above her head, just below the front porch’s hanging light.

  “I swear… if this turns out badly….” I couldn’t finish my condemnation. She grinned mischievously and disappeared into a wormhole I failed to notice had already formed, near the base of the upstairs balcony. “Shit!”

  I called my wand and broomstick and gave chase, hoping to stop her and pull her back to our predetermined boundaries in the yard. But I fell out of the wormhole close to the rear entrance of the Denmark Bank and Trust building, located next door to Tuttle’s Ice Cream Shoppe. Alisia waited for me by the door.

  “Double devil’s food chocolate, pralines and cream, or your favorite, bananas foster?”

  “How about ‘get the hell back to safety’ shoved into a sugar cone?”

  “Oh, don’t be such an assbag—you’re too good for that!” she teased. “See ya inside.”

  She didn’t wait for me to join her once again, only this time I was quick enough to stay with her. A very good thing, as it turned out.

  Simion and Magdalena Matei were seated in a corner, although it looked like other people were with them, based on the unattended ice cream cups and sodas positioned around the table. I looked away from them and casually scanned the rest of the shop, thankful my eyes were hidden from view by my shades.

  “Don’t look anywhere but at me. We’ve got company,” I whispered to Alisia, motioning slightly with my head toward the Mateis.

  “I can ignore them… but can you?” she whispered back. “I think I’m ready to place an order.” She pointed to the ice cream tub half-filled with the double devil’s food chocolate she craved, and mouthed silently for me to make my choice.

  “I’ll take a double dip of bananas foster,” I said, reaching for my wallet.

  “I’ve got the cost for that order covered,” said Serghei Matei from behind me. A chill had preceded his words by a nanosecond. Although he hadn’t been present in the shop just moments ago, he wasted little time in accosting my sister and me.

  “No… I’ve got it,” I told him, glancing over my shoulder. He was flanked by his uncles, who eyed me like the hoodlums of prohibition once did, with cold, detached anger. Killing stares.

  I ignored their presence as best I could, noticing Alisia’s ‘devil may care’ attitude had disappeared along with her confidence. I worried about what she was picking up from either the thoughts of those around us, or what her gifts allowed her to see from the future. Neither option prompted optimism.

  Before I could pay for my treat that no longer appeared mouth watering, Serghei threw down a ten-dollar bill, telling the cashier/ice cream chick to keep the change. I hesitated to take the cone from the girl, and it proved to be the catalyst for what transpired for much of the next hour.

  “Do you remember the little party hats from our childhood as American kids, Sebastian?” he said, snickering.

  I shook my head, not caring if I remembered or not.

  “Well, this should remind you,” he said.

  In a flash I understood what he intended to do, but was too slow to react or stop it. He grabbed the cone and mashed it upside down on my head. Apparently he added a surge of warmth, as the bananas foster ice cream became liquid, running down my forehead and the sides of my face.

  Laughter surrounded us, and I could feel the warmth of rage and embarrassment flood my cheeks. The fury conquered my shyness, and my sister eyed me with stark fear, and surely read the images of Serghei’s face melting before his head exploded in my mind. No doubt, she saw the reversal of my mind’s fantasy as the more likely reality.

  “Oh, is something the matter, Sebastian? Do you need a hankie to stop the tears from falling?” teased Serghei, to flowing rounds of laughter from the rest of the Mateis. He pulled out his iPhone and pointed it at me. “Maybe we should Instagram this, boys, since it’s not every day we see a Radu look like the yellow, slimy rodents that they are!”

  “Why don’t we take this outside—just you and me—Serghei?” I retorted, finding it difficult to keep my voice from shaking. “The only yellow rodents around here are the blondes in your family. Let’s see how you handle a true ‘one on one’ contest. Or… do you even have the balls for it?”

  Despite Alisia’s nervousness, she smiled at me. If nothing else, she admired my bold response. Maybe she could add something along those lines to the epitaph on my tombstone.

  “Oooh… such tough talk from the youngest vermin of the Radu clan,” Serghei replied, coolly. “I’ve got steel cojones, which are much bigger and stronger than the pair of peas between your legs.”

  “Ladies first,” I said, motioning to the exit.

  “You really want to die,
don’t you?”

  “No… just want to teach an obnoxious dumbass a lesson.”

  He laughed meanly as he brushed by me, and his growing entourage followed after him. Until then, I hadn’t noticed Daciana’s presence. She walked alongside her mother, Magdelena, who eyed me suspiciously, and then looked at her daughter, who had just shot me a worried glance from eyes the same emerald green as her mom’s. A look, I should say, that conveyed as much infatuation as it did concern for my welfare.

  I felt a surge of energy, which pleased my heart as much as it amazed me. I watched as she and the rest of her family exited the ice cream shop. I glanced at Alisia. She frowned and shook her head subtly while shifting her gaze from me to where Daciana had exited and back again.

  Hey, I honestly couldn’t help it. I hated myself for thinking of anything other than kicking Serghei’s sorry ass around the square. Alisia followed me as we tentatively exited Tuttle’s and entered the square.

  “Let’s do this,” said Serghei, once all of the warlocks and witches from inside the shop now stood in the square. “Just you and me, piss ant. Wands only, and no knives, guns, etc…. Looks like the parking area near the courthouse steps would be the optimum place to hold our little contest, and then I’ll bury your ass beneath the concrete….”

  I’m sure worse taunts escaped this miscreant’s vile mouth, but as we neared the courthouse steps where the few straggling locals hanging out in the lawn and strolling along the scenic walkways instinctively backed away from us, I suddenly remembered leaving my wand on the counter of the ice cream store. Foolish and most definitely stupidly careless, I hadn’t actually used mine for a spell in almost ten years. Hell, we hardly ever had an occasion that required me to participate in the sorts of spells that required a wand, and until recently our détente with the Mateis negated the need to carry one around.

  A bad habit to have, and surely a latent death wish in the present moment.

  If facing a duel with Serghei Matei meant hand-to-hand combat, I would’ve felt much better about my chances of either a victory, or at least a fight to a draw. I doubted his fist fighting skills were any better than my own, since the training I received from my father, grandfather, and my uncles stemmed from the same approach used centuries ago in personal combat.

  My throat suddenly went dry and as Serghei pulled out his wand and motioned for me to take my stance thirty paces away, I glanced worriedly at Alisia. She immediately picked up on my predicament, and looked down at my empty right hand.

  “Wait!” she cried out. “It’s not a fair fight! My brother is unarmed!”

  I think until that moment she had been hopeful of a few wand shots from both Serghei and me that would result in minimal damage to our persons. Something akin to singed hair, or light burns along the skin beneath our shirtsleeves and pant legs. That is usually how things have gone in the past, when a duel has happened between our families. The shot my father endured was totally different than that, where a hidden sniper could focus all of their energy into a kill shot, which would’ve ended Dad’s life had the wand’s plasma flare hit its mark.

  My being unarmed changed the dynamics of the duel, and normally the disadvantaged participant would merely face humiliation for being ill prepared, and our families would go their separate ways—one in the joy of victory and the other shamed for their incompetence. That’s what I expected….

  “You can’t attack an unarmed warlock, Serghei! It’s against the—”

  “Code?” he sneered, mocking my sister’s angst disdainfully. “Your brother should know better. And, now that he has eyes for one of us, he has already crossed a forbidden line. I shall now do the same!”

  He took aim at my torso, while I looked around for somewhere to hide—even if just long enough to come up with a longer plan of survival. There was nowhere to go, and worse, before Alisia could defend me with her wand, Serafim was upon her, snapping the end off of her beechwood empress and rendering it useless.

  I didn’t know if my wand would hear me from this distance, and after I carelessly left it exposed. Yes, that sort of behavior can have adverse affect on a wand’s behavior. Remember, wands are like living things, since they are empowered with life altering abilities and carry defined personalities within them.

  I had to try to call it… and prayed that my pleading tone and use of its association with my great grandfather, who willed it to me during his final days on earth, would be enough.

  “Paznic de Aurel veni la mine!” I shouted. Guardian of Aurel come to me!

  Serghei laughed, along with his father and uncles. But before he could muster a shot to my chest, the double doors to the ice cream parlor flew open and a gleaming object sped toward me through the air. I grabbed the wand and fell to the ground, as a heated plasma stream of electricity flew just above me, crackling in the area where my midsection had been only seconds earlier. I rolled over, chanting a spell of defense and protection of those held dear, and then launched my own plasma stream, tinted orange—a bit more aggressive than I intended, but effective.

  Serghei’s and my streams met just above our heads and then locked onto each other. From here on out, it would be strength of wills that would determine the winner: him in his rage and hatred versus me and my desperate fight to protect those I loved, as well as the innocent bystanders who now numbered well over one hundred, hiding behind automobiles and the downtown square’s statues and park benches.

  Suddenly the rest of the Mateis drew their wands and I saw a blur speeding overhead that knocked Serafim away from my sister. Adrian had arrived, and before my sister’s stunned Matei assailant could recover and react, my uncle had gathered Alisia in his arms and carried her over to where the rest of my family stood, facing the row of Mateis witnessing Serghei’s and my battle. The armed tips of their wands glowed in readiness.

  I must admit that much of what took place after a volley of Romanian taunts and threats was limited to my peripheral range. While Serghei and I pushed against each other’s plasma streams in our struggle for supremacy, wand flares crossed ours from both sides. The air sizzled with intense energy, and several limbs from the majestic pin oaks, black walnuts, and maples in the square crashed to the ground. Some were engulfed in flames, and I heard anxious cries and shouts from Denmark’s populace that remained in attendance for the first official ‘Matei-Radu battle’ ever in this region of the world.

  My worry about the events going on around us eventually distracted me to where an errant wand flare from Serghei knocked me twenty feet into one of the aforementioned trees. I slammed into it awkwardly, bloodying my nose when I landed on the unforgiving lawn face-first. I assumed Serghei would finish me off, knowing his disregard for the guidelines of The Code. But before he could reach me, he too was thrown into a tree, one of the taller oaks, courtesy of a wand shot from my father. Serghei slid to the ground unconscious, and before Simion, Serafim, and Cristian could retaliate, Adrian stood between them and my father, who had come over to assist me. Adrian held two wands, pointed from his waist like a gunslinger from the Old West. The only Matei who could tip the battle into a true blood fest at that point was Valerian, and for a moment it looked like he would attack my oldest uncle. But when Grandpa leaped through the air in time to place the tip of his wand against the Matei patriarch’s carotid artery, Valerian lowered his wand.

  Ancient customs took precedence, as when Valerian surrendered, Grandpa did the same. The rest of the warlocks and witches on either side followed suit.

  We had fought to a standstill—both families bearing bruised and battered members, but no serious injuries. Had the Mateis retreated home by way of wormholes, our stay in Denmark, Tennessee might have ended that very night. However, they calmly returned to their luxury automobiles parked near Tuttle’s Ice Cream Shoppe and climbed in. They sped away, disregarding the traffic light on Woodard Street as they raced back to their side of town. Sadly, I didn’t see Daciana again, and my heart’s immediate ache for her surprised me.

>   Meanwhile, the rest of us slowly looked around at the audience we had attracted—at least three hundred fearful souls.

  A very bad day stood to get much worse. We were so screwed!

  While worrying we might be best served by a sudden wormhole escape, an idea occurred to me. The thought initially made little sense… but on a day such as this, what could possibly seem logical or natural?

  “Alisia… tell the others to follow my lead,” I whispered to my sister, who had recovered from her attack and limped over to my side to check on me.

  “What in the hell are you talking about?” she replied, louder than I would’ve liked.

  “You have to trust me…. Tell the ones who can hear you by thought to simply follow my lead and smile,” I urged her. “Tell everyone else the same thing in Romanian. Okay?”

  Not waiting for her to comply, I turned to face the largest section of wide-eyed spectators. I bowed, lifting my gaze toward the murmuring audience while allowing my forced smile to fully widen. Then I glanced at my sister, offering her a playful wink, and she curtseyed.

  From there, the rest of our family quickly caught on, repeatedly bowing and curtseying while the crowd gave us a rousing ovation. They clapped and cheered, and I was pleasantly surprised that my idea worked. Even when a damaged gargoyle above The Sanchuan Garden crashed onto the pavement below, instead of scurrying for cover, the crowd continued to rain applause upon us.

  “So, what in the hell was that all about?” my father asked, when we were safely away from the square, as we walked back to our house taking a short cut to Old Dominion. “All of this could have been avoided if you two had simply obeyed my orders to remain in the yard. What was so damned difficult about that?”

  “I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t think something like this would happen—at least not in the square,” Alisia told him. “It’s my fault.”