by K. C. Hughes
“What does Oria mean?” Karri asked.
She took the words right out of Deakon’s mouth. He looked at her and grabbed her hand.
“That’s the name of the witches who moved here. What happened after that has been one of the world’s best kept secrets.” Loro paused for a minute. “But first, let me ask you this. What do you know about the largest witch hunt in history?”
“The Salem Witch trial was the largest,” Karri answered and Deakon nodded.
“My point exactly!” he exclaimed, rather excitedly. “That’s what the people in Germany want you to think. In fact, the largest witch hunt occurred right here in Passau,” he said, pointing his index finger at the table. “It was called the Great Execution. After the people from Como migrated to Passau, things started getting weird. Magical pacts began forming and demon-driven sexual misconduct led to nothing short of a baby boom. As a result, thousands upon thousands of witches roamed the town. But in 1451, when the city had had enough, they hunted down and burned 26,000 of them right on the bank of the Danube river.”
Deakon rose from his seat. He walked around the room, looking at the ceiling. “Do you get kicks out of telling ghost stories?” he asked, stopping behind Loro.
Loro twisted in his direction, “You Americans believe everything you see on television. Witches are real! And that nonsense about boiling pots of crow’s feet and pig innards is simply not true. Witches are demons, pure and simple. They are even mentioned in the Bible, Exodus 22:18.”
“Do you have a Bible I can look at?” Karri asked.
Loro reached behind him, and without looking, quickly pulled one off the shelf and handed it to her.
She looked surprised.
“We’re in a church,” he said. He gave them a minute to verify the scripture.
Karri pushed the Bible in Deakon’s direction. He read the scripture and sat back down. “I thought witches were make-believe,” he said. He palmed his forehead, resting his elbow on the table.
“No one knows how, during the burning, the witches cast a spell on the souls of their unborn children, turning them into demon spirits. And revenge they got. Imagine how many, out of 26000 witches, were pregnant?”
“All of them were women?” Deakon asked, staggered at the sheer number.
“There is no such thing as a male witch. They’re called warlocks. And they are stronger than their female counterparts.”
“How can a country kill that many witches without any proof?” Karri asked.
“They had proof, alright. A warlock spire, Trois Echelles, told the courts that he had 100,000 witches roaming Europe.”
“So, a warlock is like a pimp?” Deakon asked, wanting to get a clear understanding of what warlocks actually did.
“You can say that, but they hold more power than every witch combined.”
“What kind of power?” Karri asked, again, taking the words right out of his mouth.
“No one put two and two together until after Vlad the Impaler was born. Records from the fifteenth century show that his mother claimed she was molested by a demonic spirit and got pregnant. However, she didn’t tell anyone until after he murdered ten thousand people. So people thought she was trying to protect her reputation because his killings were so monstrous. He literally impaled them on iron stakes, causing the victims to suffer a slow and painful death as the blood drained from their bodies. By the way, your Hollywood’s Dracula was fictionalized after him.”
Deakon and Karri’s eye got bigger from the mention of Dracula.
“When Leopold II’s mother claimed that she’d been impregnated by a demon spirit, people started taking notes-”
“Who’s Leopold II?” Karri asked.
“He was the ruler of Belgium who wanted to colonize the Dark Continent. He killed three million people in Congo, West Africa.”
“How can one man kill all those people?” Deakon asked.
“Remember you just asked me about a warlock’s power? There’s your answer.”
“I still don’t get it. How can Leopold II do that without someone stopping him?”
“That’s just it Deakon. No one knows how to stop a warlock other than killing him.”
“Then why didn’t they kill him?” Deakon asked. His voice cracked and his heart raced.
“It’s complicated, young Deakon. Back then there were no Catchers. We started getting very interested-“
Deakon interrupted him. “What’s a Catcher?”
“Me and my family are Catchers. Like I was saying, we started getting very interested when Hitler’s mother mentioned the same thing on her deathbed. And, I’m sure you know, he killed six million Jews.”
“This is absurd,” Deakon got up from his seat. “C’mon Karri we’re leaving.” He refused to listen to the nonsense especially coming from someone who looked like he should be making cookies in the Keebler tree. They grabbed their things to leave when Loro stopped them.
“Please hear me out,” he pleaded
“Why should we when you’re talking about Dracula and Hitler? What does that have to with me and my biological mother?”
“That’s what I’m leading to. Your mother was a virgin when you were conceived. She’d never been with a man.”
“That’s insane,” Deakon yelled, pounding the table. He couldn’t be hearing this right. But something told him to sit and listen. “How could my mother get pregnant without a husband?”
“Let me explain,” Loro continued. “She was only sixteen when she had you. The spell that the witches put on their unborn children, what we call the Curse of the Oria, turned them into demon spirits. They scoured Europe for unsuspecting men to steal their sperm and spread it into virgins. Or what we call Stained Conception."
“Are you telling me that I’m a warlock related to Hitler and Dracula?”
“No, not Dracula but the real man that he was fictionalized after.”
Loro hadn't said no to his question.
"Answer my question!"
He hesitated and thought carefully about his next words. "Yes, you are a warlock, young Deakon."
A warlock? The blood drained from his face and he couldn’t speak. He looked up, tucking his lips in his mouth. He shut his eyes trying to empty his mind of what he’d just learned and what he had done. His life would never be the same. Karri's jaw dropped and he noticed a slight shift in her body, farther away from him. He didn’t blame her. He was afraid of himself. He wanted to run away from himself. He longed to go back to being the scrawny and bullied whiz kid. He banged his head on the table repeatedly. Karri wrapped her arm around his neck.
Loro saw the despair in Deakon but continued. "And they are getting stronger. For the first time in history, we think there were two warlocks at the same time.”
How’s that?” Karri asked.
Deakon stopped banging his head, staring at Loro. The room was as quiet as a mouse.
“It’s not been confirmed, but we believe Sadaam and Bin Laden may have been reigning warlocks.”
“Why did you let me live?” Deakon asked. “Why didn’t you kill me when I was born instead of taking a chance that I would turn into a monster?”
“Agnes begged me to let you live. She had faith in God that you wouldn’t turn out to be a merciless killer,” Loro said.
“Are you sure that I have the same line of descent as those horrible men?”
“Your bloodline is the same, young Deakon.”
“So, I’m a blood-sucking-Jew-killing monster?”
“You don’t have to be.”
“What does that mean?”
“You have vicious powers that you don’t have to use for evil. For instance, how do you think one man convinced a handful of others to kill six million people? It was the power. You can make anyone do practically anything. Hitler didn’t have to use it for evil. And you don’t have to use it for evil either.”
Deakon’s world was turning into a nightmare. The thought of being related to Hitler was impossible to belie
ve. But then again, the things he had recently done were also impossible to believe. He had to believe something. The thought of his mother begging Loro to protect him made him feel loved instead of unwanted, as he’d felt for years. That reminded him of another question for Loro.
“How did my mother die?’
“She died giving birth to you.”
He had so many emotions running through him that he felt numb. He brain shut off and stopped running. Deakon slowly turned to Karri. He was scared that she wouldn’t even look at him. But when she didn’t turn her head in disgust, he sighed in relief. After she placed her hand on his, he knew she wouldn’t leave him.
“Loro, help me. I don’t want to kill people. I just want to be normal. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
“You should be fine as long as you learn to control the urge.”
CHAPTER 18
Ever since the first Oria witches migrated to Passau in the fourteenth century, the town had turned into a cesspool of moral filth. Something needed to be done. A member of the Birchall family had lived in the town to track down and kill warlocks and out-of-control witches. They called themselves Catchers. Loro followed his father's footsteps, who had followed in his dad's footsteps. The family thinned out over the centuries, leaving a few others left. He and his nephew, Jon, were the lead Catchers.
While the kids ate the sandwiches he prepared, he called Jon to the cathedral. Jon had been his right hand man for the tough decisions and actions. Jon took on the task of Oria disposal which no one ever wanted to do. In order to truly kill an Oria, the head had to be severed and buried far away from the torso. The demons were strong but not that smart.
Of course Jon knew of the young boy. Sixteen years ago he and Loro discussed Deakon’s fate, heatedly. Jon wanted to separate the baby’s head from its tiny body as soon as Deakon was born, but Loro argued for Agnes’ sake. Jon threatened to leave the family like so many had done before him, but in the end they compromised. They agreed to take the baby far away from Passau. They adopted him out to a childless couple thousands of miles away. Loro thought he had made a good decision. But now, as he felt Deakon’s powerful aura, he wasn’t so sure.
As the kids continued eating, Loro stared at the computer screen, not able to focus on the online activity that the sniffer program pulled up. It scoured the internet for suspicious words. When they first bought the program, it found so much online action that he thought it would take weeks to decipher. But when he dug deeper, he learned that it had been kids bragging and lying about what they did or could do. He ignored them. Loro found it hard to focus that day because Agnes’s son was indeed a warlock. Had he made a grave mistake?
After they finished eating, Deakon rose to stretch his arms.
“What time is it?” Karri asked, standing up and rubbing her eyes.
“It’s hard to tell in a windowless basement,” he said, looking around. He saw a man staring at him.
“Who are you?” Deakon asked.
He rolled his tongue over his gums, cutting his eyes at Deakon.
Loro saw the chilling look. “This is my nephew, Jon.”
Neither Deakon or Jon said anything.
“Are you ready to go back to the hotel?” Karri asked.
“Yeah, but I have a few more questions.” He turned to Loro. “How did you know my name?”
“Your mother gave it to you after she first held you. Only moments before her death."
He gulped. Guilt draped over him for all the years that he loathed his name. He took in a slow breath and cherished it now, because his biological mother gave it to him. She didn’t abandon him after all. She died. Somehow, in a sick and twisted way, death was better than abandonment.
“What about this church. Why is there only one in Passau?”
“Good question,” Loro said. “When the Oria came here from Italy, most were witches and as such, they didn’t worship God. Over the centuries, the town had many new churches built but the membership never grew beyond the founder and his family. No one found it suspect.”
“About that,” Karri added. “We tried to find out about his adoption from the hospitals. Why are there six here with so few people?”
“It goes back to the Oria, again. They are a violent bunch and they often turn on each other. Hence, the high proportion of hospitals.”
Deakon noticed Jon peering at him. He reminded him of a tough guy in the movies. The thought crossed his mind about cupping the bracelet and making Jon’s body twist in agonizing pain. A tiny smile escaped his lips as he envisioned the painful look on Jon’s face. Why was he thinking like that? He shook his head, remembering about Dracula and Hitler.
“Why don’t the Catchers kill them all?” Karri asked.
Loro rubbed his chin. “That, my dear Karri, would be political suicide. The outside world would come down hard on Germany. It’s possible that World War III would ensue. It’s a delicate balancing act what we do.”
The room was quiet. Karri lowered her head and began twirling her hair.
“So, if I threw the bracelet in the river, I wouldn’t be a warlock anymore, right?” Deakon asked.
“The power is not in the bracelet, young Deakon,” Loro said. “It's within you.”
Great, now I’m Hans Solo.
"Let me take a look at it," Loro said, holding his hand out.
"I don't know if that's a good idea." But he bent over to the backpack that sat on the floor and pulled out the bracelet. He hesitated but passed it to Loro.
Loro reached for it but as soon as it touched his fingers, he felt an intense shock. It was so strong that he immediately dropped it on the table, making a dull clanking noise. Everyone in the library looked at him. When he went to pick it up again, he felt the same shock. Jon came closer and tried it. His reaction was the same as Loro, and he dropped it, too.
Everyone looked at Karri.
“Oh no, I’m not picking that thing up,” she belted out. “I’m not going through that again.”
Jon cut his glance to her. “You picked it up?”
Karri looked at Deakon, who nodded. “I didn’t touch it. But that thing made me disappear.”
It was Loro and Jon’s turn to look at each other. “What do you mean?” Jon asked.
“You tell them,” Karri said rubbing her forearms. Deakon turned to Loro, ignoring Jon. He explained what happened to Karri in the hotel room, including his thoughts moments before he said the spell. He told them about what he did to Matt, Randall, and Spanks.
Loro leaned back in the chair. Jon rolled his eyes in an unspoken disgust, then blabbed something in German. But it was too fast for Deakon to pick up. He thought he recognized one word-kill.
They turned to Deakon and eyed him like he was a fugitive.
“What?” he demanded.
Loro spoke slowly. “In all the centuries of tracking down and killing the Oria, we have never heard of such power.” He hadn’t known the powers of warlocks to be so strong. For hundreds of years they were able to influence other people’s free will, not the ability to defy the laws of gravity. It bothered him, but he wasn’t going to say anything in front of Jon. He was so sure that with prayer, Deakon wouldn’t transform, but he was very wrong. Deakon was stronger and more powerful than the other warlocks. He was a new breed of the bastards.
Deakon saw a slight tremble in Loro’s hands. He pushed his chair back from the table, suddenly feeling vulnerable. The silence was tortuous. He reached for the bracelet to put it up and jumped when Loro made a quick movement towards it. He recoiled before touching it, though.
Loro squinted, pointing at something. There was a small inscription on the inside rim of the medallion written in German that Deakon hadn’t noticed before.
“Young Deakon, bring it closer to me.”
He obeyed.
Loro read the tiny inscription out loud, “Lassen Sie die Welt verdammt sein. Let the World be Damned," he said with a grave look on his face.
The look turned to a questio
n. He rose and searched the shelves for a book. No one said a word while he snaked through the rows of bookshelves, stopping a couple of times. After a few minutes, Loro came back with a book. He flipped through the pages as Jon looked over his shoulders.
When they got to a certain page, both men leaned closer. First, Jon raised his head and looked at Deakon. It was a look of hatred. And when Loro displayed the same look, Deakon thought they were going to kill him. They were locked in a windowless basement far away from home and neither of their parents knew where they were.
"What is it?” Deakon finally asked.
Loro turned the book around to let them see for themselves.
Deakon saw a picture of Hitler with his arm raised, addressing a massive crowd.
“I don’t get it,” he said.
“Look at his arm that’s not raised,” Jon said.
When he saw Hitler’s left hand, Deakon nearly fell out of his seat. The bracelet was fastened around the dictator’s wrist. It was barely visible under his long-sleeved shirt. Only someone who’d seen the bracelet could make it out.
“Please tell me they made more than one of these?” Deakon asked.
“I wish I knew,” Loro replied.
“What do you think Karri?” Deakon asked.
“I don’t have a clue” she said. “Maybe it’s a replica.”
“Yeah, that makes sense. There’s no way this could be the same one. C’mon, there’s just no way!” Deakon rose and walked around the room with his hands clenched behind his head. Think Deakon, think. Maybe some sicko had seen the same picture and duplicated it.
“The bracelet is evil,” Loro said.
“Believe me, I don't want to do any more magic with it.”
“It is not magic!” Loro said, forcibly. “Never underestimate what you are, young Deakon.
