Michael pulled the jeep into the Jordan’s driveway. After parking, he hopped out and raced to open the passenger door for Emily, assisting her out of the jeep.
Anthony Jordan stepped through his front door, meeting them at the bottom of his steps. His hair was stark white, same as his daughter's, except for a few silver whiskers across his chin.
“Michael Howard, I presume,” Anthony spoke vigorously. He held out his hand to shake Michael’s. “Pleasure indeed to meet a witch. Pleasure indeed!”
“Yes, nice to meet you as well,” returned Michael, taking his hand. “Hope you don’t mind, this is my girlfriend, Emily. She runs, Harboring the Book.” He kept secret that she was also a spirit vessel, capable of allowing ghosts to inhabit her body.
“Nice to meet you,” greeted Emily.
Mr. Anthony took hold of Emily’s hand and raised it to his lips, kissing the back of her hand elegantly. “Delighted, my dear, delighted!”
Emily's face went slightly flush as Mr. Jordan gently dropped her hand.
“We are to have a lovely lunch out on the pier,” he told them.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Emily asked.
Anthony smiled and said no. “My Eva set up everything before she departed this morning.”
“So she’s not here?” Emily confirmed.
“Off on some day hike in the park,” he answered.
“That’s too bad. I was hoping to meet her. Oh well, next time.”
“We have all summer,” noted Mr. Jordan, his voice hopeful that they would meet again. “Follow me if you will.” He led them across the road, down a short path, which opened up to a private pier. Near the end of the pier was a round table with four chairs. He pulled back a chair for Emily.
“Thank you,” she replied taking a seat. Michael sat next to her with Mr. Jordan across from them.
After helping themselves to iced tea and finger sandwiches, as well as a few minutes taking in the spacious view, Michael started the conversation.
“I have to tell you, Mr. Jordan, that I have read your book cover to cover.”
“Really? Well then, my young sir, it is an honor to have a witch, especially one of your caliber and notoriety, read my work. Let me ask, has the information in the book ever proven useful?”
“Actually, yes. On numerous occasions. The information in your book is quite thorough.”
“Splendid!” he retorted. “What a delight! To know my research has helped in some way.”
“If it's not too much to ask, Mr. Jordan, how did you discover the existence of the supernatural? From what I understand, you’re not descended from a magical line.”
“Ah, yes, it is a simple story really. And you’re right, no magical ties whatsoever. My family, we’re just regular ‘ole humans.” He winked and continued. “When I was a young boy, we lived in a very old house and there were a few... extra residents... if you get my drift.”
“Ghosts?” confirmed Emily.
“Yes. Ghosts. I found them fascinating. And like some young children, I was able to see and interact with them. Let's just say I had many imaginary friends. My curiosity never waned though, and I spent my teen years enveloped in research, delving deeper and deeper into the supernatural world. There came a point however during those years that I stopped seeing the ghosts, but unlike most other youngsters, I did not forget. No, siree I did not forget.” He paused, shifting his body so that he was leaning in closer.
“I don’t know, to this day, why I did not forget, but even though I no longer see those ghosts, I have never stopped believing they are still amongst us.”
Emily coughed, catching herself. She knew they were still amongst us, as one had possessed her body just days earlier.
Mr. Jordan continued. “That said, it has certainly not been easy, a mere human traipsing in a normally secretive, private world. But I will, until my final breath, find the supernatural world intriguing, as there is always something new around the corner yet to be discovered.”
He stopped and took a sip of his tea.
“That may seem like a simple story, Mr. Jordan,” said Emily, “But also quite extraordinary.”
“Indeed, indeed,” he agreed, a pensive look in his eye. “Now, I suppose that you are curious as to why I am here, on The Demon Isle?”
Michael threw a modest shrug in Mr. Jordan's direction. “Can't say the subject didn't cross my mind. I wouldn't be doing my job if it didn't.”
“As well you should! I am discovering your family is legendary on this Isle. I am sure you feel a strong duty to this place.”
Michael did not respond. He had only recently decided to stay on the Isle, after adamantly arguing it was not the Howard's responsibility to protect it anymore. Mr. Jordan’s statement hung in his mind too. Was he researching the Howard family? What exactly was his purpose on the Isle?
Mr. Anthony continued. “My time here is purely for research purposes. There are many indigenous plants on this Isle that are well known in many magical communities, outside of the Isle. There is an ongoing debate that plants grown here on the Isle are more potent than their counterparts grown elsewhere, plus, like most in the know, I am of course aware of the mystical power source that strengthens the Isle. I am hoping to discover whether the plants medicinal qualities are enhanced by this source. Purely for research,” he added again. “Curiosity always gets the better of me.”
“Do you think that it's possible?” asked Emily, intrigued by the idea. “I've never even thought about how the power source might affect things like local plant life.”
Michael secretly wondered if plant research was all Mr. Jordan was actually researching. He allowed his empathic ability to stretch out and surround Mr. Jordan, but was relieved to feel nothing but thrilled excitement over their conversation.
“The one thing I have learned over the years, Ms. Emily, is that anything is possible. However, I feel my research will prove difficult, as my only measure is comparing the same plant families and their compounds from versions off the Isle versus ones growing on the Isle. There are many factors that could change these outcomes, however, including things like climate and growth cycles, not just magical power sources.”
“I don't know as I can be much help,” said Michael, feeling more confident after not sensing anything sinister. “But I can at least tell you that even though we have no idea where the source is located, or what fuels this power source, it is not why we are magical. Our family were witches long before we came to this Isle and while we are protectors of the source, and the Isle, it is not the reason we are witches. The Isle's power source does not power us. It is possible to tap into the magic, which is why, unfortunately, malevolent forces incessantly make appearances on the Isle,” he explained.
Mr. Jordan leaned back in his chair, deep in thought over what Michael had said.
“That detail may not seem like much to you,” he said after awhile, “but to me it is priceless. If the source does not create your abilities, but can be tapped into, this changes everything! Do the plants on this Isle tap into the power, making them stronger specimen? This could change the course of my research completely! Brilliant!” he concluded.
“Well then, glad to help,” Michael said. He reached out again with his empathic abilities, and again, felt nothing but gratified delight.
Nothing else. Almost like his mind was stuck in one emotion, playing it over and over again.
Normally, with others, he could feel many emotions all at once, with one or two prominent emotions depending on how a person was feeling at the time. Like right now, Emily was feeling happy. However sided with that happy, was a smaller amount of restlessness and a tiny bit of guilt. Probably over canceling lunch with her father.
Rarely did someone feel just one emotion, all the time.
Like Charlie with Eva, Michael could not help but feel an odd sense of distrust in the back of his mind. Something felt off. He decided that he had given Mr. Anthony enough information, and hoped that he ha
d noted the gentle reminder of their job here on the Isle: to protect the Isle and its power source.
Mr. Jordan refilled drinks.
“Thanks,” said Emily.
“Of course,” he replied, adding, “Now, as interesting as this all is, I’m afraid I will find myself rather distracted for the next few days, if not weeks, with the gift your brother and my daughter left in my laboratory last night.”
“Ah, yes, the dead werewolf,” Michael stated.
“You can have it,” said Emily, shuddering.
“Have you had a chance to examine it yet?” asked Michael.
“Not really. A general, very shocked, once over.”
Michael chuckled. “Yes, I would imagine finding a dead werewolf in your garage would prove a bit of a shock.”
“Indeed. Indeed. But I am curious, no doubt, to see what mysteries lie beneath the surface. And no fear, if I find anything of value, you’ll be the first to know.”
Michael nodded appreciatively, inwardly wondering if leaving the werewolf in the care of Mr. Jordan had been the right move.
Emily made a strange noise and Michael heard her ask, “What is that?”
He followed her gaze, off the shore out in deeper waters.
Mr. Jordan turned in his chair and peeked as well.
“There’s someone out there,” she said, jumping out of her seat, alarmed. She pointed at a rolling wave about thirty feet from the shore where a darkish blue shape, nearly the color of the ocean, was bobbing up and down in the water. It took Michael a moment to catch it.
“Oh my! Is someone in trouble?” asked Mr. Jordan, getting out of his chair to get a better look.
Michael didn’t look closer or ask additional questions. He jumped up, slipped off his shoes and heavy jeans, diving into the water. He swam vigorously toward the bobbing figure. The water turned from ocean blue to red as he swam closer.
Blood.
A voice cried out for help.
“Please, it kills,” the voice pleaded. “Cannot get off.”
It appeared to be a woman, with long strands of wavy blue hair.
“Mermaid...” Michael realized. “A mermaid having trouble in the water,” he mumbled, spitting salty water out of his mouth. “This can't be good.”
Michael felt something thump against his leg and saw a dark shadow circling below. “What’s in the water?” he shouted.
“Very big thing. Very bad thing,” the mermaid answered, her voice weaker.
The mermaid thrashed her body, trying to grasp something on her back. Michael swam forward and nearly swallowed water when he saw what was happening. “Bloodsucker...” nearly the length of the mermaid herself.
She disappeared, pulled under the water.
Michael dove after her.
Another bloodsucker had its mouth clenched to her flipper and she could not swim.
Back on the pier, Emily and Mr. Jordan watched in concerned awe. Blood trails were now making their way to the pier.
Underneath the surface, Michael saw a terrible sight. More bloodsuckers. The blood was attracting them, and quickly.
He was not sure it would work, but he raised his palm and shot off an energy ball. It moved agonizingly slow underneath the water and when a bloodsucker swam into its path, it did give the creature pause, but did not do any significant damage. He wished he knew more spells that would work under the water.
There was little time. The mermaid was sinking, now unconscious. Michael swam to her and with all of his strength pulled at the bloodsucker attached to her back, while kicking at the one attached to her leg. He put his hand up to the sucker on her back and blasted it at the closest range possible with an energy ball. Its grip loosened enough for Michael to peel it off.
His lungs burned for air but he did not surface. He could not perform the underwater breathing spell as Charlie could.
He blasted the bloodsucker on her leg and surfaced, sucking in a deep breath, swimming towards the shore with the mermaid in tow.
Bloodsuckers swarmed, searching for the source of the blood.
As Michael swam, he kept hold of the mermaid with one hand, shooting off spells with the other. The slippery, cold skin of the bloodsuckers chaffed his skin like sandpaper each time one got close enough to brush up against him. When Michael could touch bottom he stood and pulled the mermaid toward the beach. Emily and Mr. Jordan raced to his aid.
“Stay out of the water,” Michael warned through heavy breaths.
They waited at the water's edge, helping him pull the mermaid's body onto the shore. Michael ignored his own injuries, which appeared to be minor and thankfully had not punctured his skin, thus adding no additional blood to the sucker’s frenzied search. He collapsed on the shore trying to catch his breath, while Emily checked on the mermaid.
She had two long, muscular legs with flippers for feet. She wasn’t moving and as her body dried, milky white skin replaced her scaly legs. Her long locks of blue hair lay limp over her body.
Mr. Jordan stared in awe at the sight. He had seen a mermaid once before, but it still amazed him that they were real.
“This morning a werewolf and at lunch a mermaid! What’s for dinner?” he cried out in bewilderment.
The mermaid lay on her back, seemingly unable to catch enough air. The sand underneath her body was turning red as she continued to lose blood.
“Can’t move legs,” the mermaid whimpered.
“She’s losing a lot of blood,” Emily said.
Mr. Jordan’s astonished gaze turned to one of grave concern.
Michael crawled over to the mermaid, gently rolling her over, checking the wound. The bloodsucker had sliced into her skin deeply, leaving an oval shaped set of teeth marks where it had clamped down on her skin. Blood still poured out uncontrollably.
“We have to stop the bleeding or she won’t make it,” he said.
Suddenly the mermaid's eyes flickered and she tried to speak.
Emily helped Michael turn her to her side.
“Bad bad things,” she said in a whisper to Emily, whom she was facing. “Killing sisters.”
Emily tried to comfort the mermaid while Michael tried desperately to stop the bleeding.
The mermaid peered into Emily’s eyes. “You help save sisters, now.” The mermaid grasped Emily’s head, pulling her in close. “I die now.” With her last ragged breath, a stream of ocean blue light poured out of the mermaid’s mouth.
“You must let go!” Mr. Jordan called out quite suddenly.
It was too late.
Emily breathed in the stream of light, now holding a lifeless mermaid on bloodstained sand.
Michael stood up, exhausted and disappointed.
The bloodsuckers were turning out to be a problem after all. They would have to deal with this situation as quickly and discreetly as possible, before anyone else died, above or below the water.
However, that was not the only problem.
“Um, Michael…” squealed Emily.
Michael and Mr. Jordan watched with bewildered gazes as Emily’s brown hair lengthened, shifting in color to a shade of ocean blue. A wave crashed to the shore, splashing salt water onto her body. Scales erupted on the surface of her skin, lining her arms and neck. Then Emily fell over, unable to stand as her legs disappeared from underneath her, replaced by thick, brightly colored, scaly flippers.
“Oh, wow!” said Michael, the look of shock on his face.
“Sorry,” muttered Mr. Jordan. “I tried to warn you, but it was too late when I realized what was happening.”
Michael just stared.
“You see, in my research, I have discovered that a mermaid, in their moment of death, can transfer their essence to another sister. But not to fret! We have until sunset to solve this conundrum!”
“What do mean?” asked Emily, seeming to be unable to control her wildly floundering flippers.
“If we cannot change you back before sunset, the water will call you home, my dear,” explained Mr. Jordan. “
You will not be able to set foot on dry land, or turn back into a human, but one day each month.”
“Oh dear,” said Emily. “This isn't at all what I pictured being a mermaid was like... I used to dream about being a mermaid when I was a little girl...” she paused, now panicked. “I really don't want to be a mermaid, Michael.”
Michael gulped hard, unable to take his eyes off Emily. He finally allowed his gaze to float toward Anthony Jordan. “Sunset you say?”
Mr. Jordan nodded a curt yes in reply.
“I gotta make a few phone calls,” Michael said suddenly, running to grab his cell phone from the jeans he had left lying on the pier.
##
William stood at the entrance of a mausoleum. It was located in the center of The Demon Isle Graveyard. An engraving over the doorway read Howard. He pushed open the heavy iron door with ease, entering into a stone room, which was lined with urn after urn, each carved with the name of a deceased Howard; many of whom he had known and called friend during his nearly one hundred years of living on the Isle.
He stood in the center of the room and closed his eyes for a moment, as if hearing voices no one else could hear.
“I have watched many of you come and go,” he whispered mournfully. He opened his eyes. “And to one of you, I made a promise: to always look after and guide the next generation of Howard Witches.”
He paused, taking a few steps, caressing the urns with his hand before continuing, remembering the beginning and end of each of their short human lives.
“It is getting harder to keep this promise,” he spoke to the urns, his voice low. “Harder to watch each of you succumb to your inevitable end, while I remain, unchanged. Although I fully realize your inevitable end, I am beginning to fear it, now more than ever.”
He stopped at an urn, which stood near the back of the room, as if speaking to it directly.
“There are but three of you left. Four, if we can locate and save Jack Howard. If I cannot protect them, what will become of this place? What will become of me? It is selfish of me to consider such things. But you have been my salvation, my family, these many years. What if I fail? What if I cannot keep this promise I have made?”
Witches of The Demon Isle Box Set, Volumes 1, 2 & 3 Page 21
