The Witches Of Denmark

by Aiden James

“Meaning what?” I asked, not sure how to take any of what she just told me.

  “It’s nothing,” she said, smiling shyly. “See ya around?”

  “Sure.”

  Her smile brightened and she blew me a kiss. Before I could respond, she disappeared into a small wavering haze of royal purple that suddenly formed behind her. A wormhole.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Saturday night came and went without an attack from the Mateis.

  Not even a suspicious drive by or ‘fly by’. They apparently observed the birthday of Toma Matei quietly, or at least not within earshot of Depot Hill. Even so, it took until Sunday afternoon to convince my father to change my vote from ‘leave’ to ‘stay’. It was a narrow victory that involved several interrogations from him and my grandparents. Grandma was the most suspicious, and remained cautious after the matter was settled, giving ground only begrudgingly. Given the grilling I received, had Mom and Adrian voted to leave instead of staying, I wouldn’t have been able to mentally protect myself from their collective probing efforts in tandem with Dad, Grandpa, and Grandma. By the end of my trial, I wasn’t entirely convinced that my focus on Alisia’s and my fun exploits in and around Denmark the past month sheltered my hidden thoughts of Daciana Matei and her mysterious allure.

  “Very well… we shall delay the search for a new home for now,” Grandpa announced Sunday, just after lunch. All of us were gathered in the living room. “Gabriel’s idea of revisiting a new vote each week until the issue of the Mateis is resolved seems the wisest course to follow. But if anything unforeseen happens, such as a surprise attack from our enemies, then be prepared to pack up everything at a moment’s notice…. All in favor say ‘aye’.”

  A unanimous chorus of ‘ayes’ resounded.

  “It’s probably a good idea to have Harris finish the upstairs floor this week,” said Dad, ready to move forward. “It would leave one less thing to take care of, should we end up staying for a while, and help us recoup some of our loss if we have to suddenly sell the place.”

  “I second that idea,” said Mom, smiling weakly. She was the one most in love with our home, and the idea of possibly having to leave it had to be killing her. “Maybe he can repaint the upper ceiling now that the columns are gone.”

  “I could do that for you right now,” offered Adrian. “If Father would allow me to use my wand and a few spells from the Old Country, I could have this place looking spiffy in under five minutes. How about it, Pops?”

  “There will be nothing of the sort,” said Dad. “At least not while we’re still trying to fit in.”

  “Gabriel… I think after what happened the other day in the square, fitting in is no longer a viable goal or option,” said Grandpa, drawing muted chuckles from Adrian and Manuel. “And, if we do end up staying here for any significant length of time, I recommend we start looking for allies among our neighbors. Someone who could accept the fact we are a family of wizardry, and who would then become our eyes and ears in the neighborhood and immediate area that includes downtown.”

  “Amen!” Adrian enthused, raising the bottle of Scottish ale he sipped on in salute.

  “Must you always act so… cheeky?” asked Grandpa. “And, please refrain from calling me anything other than ‘Father’, Adrian. If I ever hear you address me as ‘Pops’ again, I’ll banish you to Băjenie!”

  Adrian laughed uneasily, until he saw that Grandpa wasn’t joking.

  “Sorry Father,” he said, killing the smile and laughter in one smooth swoop. “Although… I do wish you would lighten up a bit. You’ll never make it to your six hundredth birthday if you remain so uptight.”

  I thought this might lead us down an old familiar path where the two of them would bicker—the way it often was before my uncles decided to relocate to Europe in the 1980s. However, Grandpa seemed much more tired than usual. The latest chapter of the ongoing feud with the Mateis had taken a toll.

  “We’ll see,” he said. “We might all have to lighten up a bit, as you say, son…. Why don’t we have an impromptu dinner party and invite Julien and Meredith, along with the Deans and Crawfords? We could tell them who and what we truly are. If they don’t laugh hysterically, or run out the door from the standard demonstration we sometimes used in Wheaton, we might have our first allies.”

  “I think it’s a bad idea to seek allies from among all of our neighbors,” I said. “Sorry, Grandpa. I mean no disrespect. But what if our neighbors turn against us?”

  “No offense taken, Sebastian,” said Grandpa. “It isn’t everyone in the neighborhood that I’d like to invite tonight, or ever, for that matter.... ‘Horseshit’ Harry won’t be invited. Neither will we invite Harold Gustafson and his wife, Betsy. I also think it’s best to leave the nice kid Harris out of this proposed circle… at least to begin with.”

  “Father, it might be best to narrow your list down further,” said Mom, glancing at my grandmother, who encouraged her with a nod to continue. “I think we should start only with Meredith and Julien, and go from there. If it works out with them, then we could try the others you mentioned. If not… well at least we would have less damage control to worry about with an eccentric horror author and his antique doll-selling wife.” She stifled a laugh, surely out of respect for my grandfather, who glowered, as he often does when weighing the pros and cons of a matter.

  “All right, that does makes sense,” he said, finally, after a few minutes spent in deliberation. “Let’s invite the Mays and pick up ribeye steaks from the market up the street.”

  “Meredith will be pleased,” said Grandma. “If she comes, at least we will have her favorite cut of beef to enjoy.”

  “I believe Julien prefers chicken,” said Dad, frowning.

  “Then, damn it, buy both!” enthused Adrian. “I wouldn’t care if they were full-fledged vegans, as long as we won’t have to give up this heavenly abode just yet.”

  The mood lightened at the prospects of having better protection against our enemies… or, I should say, our enemies minus a certain daughter who held sway over my heart. And, when Mom’s subsequent phone call to Meredith resulted in an accepted invitation, excitement swept through our midst at the prospect of coming clean about our true identities. Very soon we would lay it all out for my favorite neighbor and his wife. I hoped my prediction of acceptance was correct. If Julien and Meredith Mays couldn’t accept the naked truth about us, then neither would anyone else in Denmark.

  * * * * *

  “Well, it’s good to see you, Sebastian.”

  Wearing golden shades slightly lighter than my own and a colorful Hawaiian Luau shirt, Julien and his lovely wife stepped through the main entrance to our house shortly after seven o’clock. Dinner was almost ready, delayed by yet another round of debate. This time, the subject was on when to spill the beans about our warlock and witch status. Mom and Dad’s desire to delay the issue until after our meal won out over Grandpa’s preferred ‘tell them immediately why they’ve been summoned’ approach. Keeping things relaxed seemed like a better tactic than using a full-court press at the door.

  “It’s good to see you, too, Julien… and Meredith,” I said. I smiled shyly and decided to remove my shades, slipping them into my front pants pocket.

  “Ooh… this must be important,” said Julien, grinning mischievously.

  I thought he might pester me for details, based on the look he gave me after removing his shades and hooking them inside the neckline of his shirt. But, Meredith’s remark about something smelling ‘incredibly wonderful’ distracted him. She practically dragged him toward the dining room and kitchen, pausing only to say hello to my uncles, father, and grandfather. The ladies—including Alisia—were busy in the kitchen.

  “Meredith hasn’t eaten since this morning, and her blood sugar’s low,” said Julien, over his shoulder to the Radu males gathered in the foyer. “If any of you were some form of cow, at this point you’d be on the endangered list.”

  That brought a few laughs, as is often
the case with Julien’s wit. I pursued them both into the kitchen.

  “Bas, would you mind bringing in the extra chair?” asked Mom, carrying a platter of freshly cooked steaks to the dining room. “Oh, and Gabe… we’re ready for the chilled wine.”

  Zinfandel and Merlot, in honor of Julien’s and Meredith’s drastically different palates when it comes to fruit of the vineyard. Part of Adrian’s suggestion to liquor them up before lowering the reality boom.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say someone is trying to butter us up for a big announcement,” teased Julien, once everyone had sat down at the table. My turn to stifle laughter at the fact his joke was right on the money. Then again, with his intuitions and his wife’s precognitive abilities, he might’ve been setting us up for a surprise, instead of the other way around. “Have you got a new baby on the way?”

  I do believe the older men in our family laughed a little too heartily at his comment, while the gals smiled politely… although a slight snicker escaped Alisia.

  “No… nothing quite like that,” said Mom, raising a glass in preparation for a toast. “To two wonderful people who have made our move to Denmark something we shall always cherish!”

  “You’re not thinking of moving are you?” asked Meredith.

  Bingo… sort of.

  “We just got here… why would we leave so soon?” said Dad, impishly.

  “Ah-huh…. Well, thank you for having us over for this delectable event,” said Julien. The look in his eyes told me he wasn’t fooled. We could expect more pointed questions once dinner was over. His genteel upbringing would prevent him from broaching anything at the table not offered up by his hosts… at least until it was time for brandy and cigars.

  The conversation throughout our meal was friendly but tepid as far as subject matter was concerned. Nothing potentially dangerous or uncomfortable was addressed. Julien loves to talk about his books—especially the latest ones he is working on—and Meredith can get it going in regard to antiques of all kinds if and when the subject is broached. However, both are also gregarious in nature, and quite adept at revolving a conversation around their hosts’ concerns. So, after twenty minutes spent discussing the latest book of Julien’s—which ironically deals with warlocks and witches swooping down on some sleepy, southern town—and another ten minutes about the early 1800s Meissen porcelain figurines Grandma kept on display on the dining room fireplace mantel, we were back to talking about us for the next half hour.

  “Why don’t we move into the parlor while the ladies clear the table?” Grandpa suggested to Julien, once the small talk whittled down to the mundane.

  “The ladies’ parlor, or the one converted into your living room?”

  “The living room, of course.”

  “Sounds good,” said Julien, shooting a curious look to me.

  For some reason, it made me think of the brief conversation we had outside our house, when he mentioned seeing Grandpa float up to the Beauregard’s roof and back down again. All the stress of dealing with the Mateis and my burgeoning feelings for Daciana must’ve been worse than I previously assumed. I had completely forgotten that conversation, and yet it clearly replayed in my mind at present.

  Oh shit!

  I suspected that Julien hadn’t shared similar observations with anyone else in my family, as it would’ve surely come up sometime before now. I silently chastised myself for not remembering what he had told me a month ago a helluva lot sooner. Grandpa, Dad, and Adrian were about to look like idiots since Julien knew we were different than the ‘Average Joe’ in a supernatural sense. No doubt his ex-card-reading wife to the country music stars residing in Nashville was even more versed in what we were about…. But I was willing to lay responsibility for that foible at the feet of Mom and Grandma, since they had been hanging out with her almost on a daily basis and should be aware of what her extrasensory perception was picking up from them.

  Not that any of this excused me from not saying shit about Julien’s observations about Grandpa a month ago…. Still, I’m the kid here, right? As long as we can ignore the fact I am finishing up my thirteenth decade on earth, that excuse should fly….

  Meredith stayed behind to clear the table with Mom, Grandma, and my sis—despite Mom and Grandma’s insistence for her to be treated as their guest. Meanwhile, Julien sat between Dad and me on the sofa, while Manuel sat in the loveseat. Grandpa and Adrian stood by the fireplace.

  Could this look any less like a doomed stoolie brought before a godfather in the 1930s?

  “So, what’s up?” asked Julien.

  “Surely you’re aware that we are a bit different from most people,” said Adrian, upstaging Grandpa, who looked surprised. Nonetheless, he motioned for my uncle to continue. “Did you hear about what happened Thursday afternoon in the square?”

  “A better question to ask is ‘who hasn’t heard about it?’” Julien replied, chuckling. “It was quite a show from what I understand.”

  “It was, indeed,” Dad agreed, smiling weakly.

  “Some people might even think what happened that day wasn’t an act, but was completely real,” added Grandpa. “Is that what you’ve heard?”

  “Is it why y’all are thinking of leaving Denmark, because some folks might believe you’re witches?”

  “Or warlocks,” I chimed in, smiling as if this was a joke.

  Julien nodded thoughtfully before answering Grandpa’s question.

  “From what I’ve heard, almost everyone thinks what happened was a clever show by a group of magicians who have illegal access to pyrotechnics and gunpowder, lasers, etc,” he said. “And, the majority of those people think the Radus and Mateis are great fun. I’ve even heard rumor that the mayor is thinking of hiring y’all as entertainment for next year’s frog leg fry event. ”

  “How lovely… but what do you think of us, Julien?”

  Manuel delivered his query with an uncomfortable dose of solemnity to make it difficult to dance around. I doubt any of us were disappointed by it—surprised, perhaps, but not unhappy to move things along.

  “Well, I like you an awful lot, and I’m not like most of the good townsfolk of Denmark who might frown on certain ‘practices’, as you know,” he said, after taking a moment to survey the stoic expressions surrounding him. “I told Sebastian about a month ago that I knew y’all were different than any family I’ve ever known, and not just because of your affinity for the Beauregard’s roof, Georghe.” Julien’s eyes twinkled with loving mirth, and I was delighted that he exhibited no fear… just curiosity and the warmth of friendship and respect that he had always shown to all of us.

  “So you know what we are?” asked Adrian, regarding him predatorily.

  “Yes,” Julien replied, unfazed.

  “And, that is…?” Grandpa sought to confirm, when he wouldn’t continue.

  “Well... it appears that y’all have abilities unheard of in recent times—like being able to levitate at will,” he said, straightening in his seat. “Meredith tells me that her guides tell her this is just the tip of the iceberg, and that you have ‘power over the elements of creation’.”

  “Julien, I really like you,” said Adrian, wearing a smirk as he studied him thoughtfully. “But, let’s cut the shit on the quantifying terms, shall we? Are you surrounded by warlocks at the moment or not?”

  He didn’t answer right away, and I suddenly worried that maybe I had misread Julien.

  “Yes, I suppose that fits better than to call you wizards and sorcerers,” he said. “I guess it means the ladies residing in this house are witches.”

  My uncles and grandfather nodded nearly in unison, followed by my father and me.

  “I don’t suppose I could get a demonstration, to set my mind at ease?” he said.

  “Sure, why not?” said Grandpa, rising into the air.

  His head bobbed like a balloon just below the ceiling and he brushed away a cobweb attached to the plaster medallion above the chandelier. He motioned for the rest
of us warlocks to join him in the air, and we did, leaving Julien to gaze up at us in stupefied wonder. No matter what someone states they believe, or can handle, the facial expression always reflects surprise, disbelief, or both. In this instance, it was mostly surprise, thankfully.

  “Ahhh, honey?” called Julien, sounding amused. At least he hadn’t freaked out on us yet.

  “Yes, babe,” Meredith replied from the dining room, where she was wiping off the long dinette table. “What is it?”

  “Can you come in here please?”

  “Sure… we’ll be there in a moment.”

  “Great.”

  Julien stood and smiled, winking at Dad and me. “She’s gonna love this,” he whispered, wearing a playful grin.

  “Wha—Oh my God!” Meredith cried out, once she stepped into the living room.

  Mom and Grandma flanked her and Alisia stood behind them all, with an expression that damned near matched Julien’s upon her face. Meredith covered her mouth with her hands as she studied all of us while wearing a shocked expression. She might be psychic and all, but I could tell from her reaction that she either disbelieved what her instincts told her, disbelieved what Julien might’ve told her, or had no frigging clue the Radu family she had been hanging out with for much of the past two months were more than a wee bit strange.

  “Isn’t this awesome?” Julien enthused.

  Meredith said nothing, shaking her head in wide-eyed wonder as Mom guided her over to where Julien stood, next to the sofa. Meredith slid down onto the cushions.

  “I’m sorry that we’ve frightened you,” said Grandpa. “But, you are the people we trust most, and hope you realize we would never do anything to harm either of you. Truly, we would never harm any of the residents of this wonderful town—not even the shitty handyman living across the way.” He pointed in the direction of Harry Turner’s residence.

  “I warned you about hiring his sorry ass,” teased Julien. He sat down next to his wife, pulling her close and kissing her on the cheek. “Sweetheart, you knew they were like this… you told me yourself.”