The Witches Of Denmark (23 page)

“Not to mention no one is going to pay the amount of money we gave for the house,” she said. “That’s what Mom and Adrian pointed out, but Grandpa, Grandma, and Dad said they will take the loss and any flack we’ll get from the Elders for not meeting the minimum stay of a year. I thought Manuel would side with Adrian, but since he is thinking of going back to Europe, he voted to leave for our safety. That made it four votes to three in favor of leaving, and your vote—even if it had been counted as neutral since you were sleeping—would’ve clinched the decision to go.”

“But I want to stay.”

“Huh?”

“Yes, I’ve changed my mind.”

“Seriously? In just a matter of six to seven weeks?” she said disbelievingly. “Wait… wait a second. This is about the Matei girl, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not,” I said, momentarily forgetting Alisia could scan my mind for the truth. “Well… at least not totally.”

“Bullshit, Bas,” she said, rising to her feet and holding me in her penetrating gaze.

“No… I am being honest with you,” I told her, meeting her probing stare head on. “Yeah, I hated this place, but really it was more hating the move from Wheaton and Chicago. I loved it there—you know that—and I never thought I could grow fond of anywhere else. Especially not some hole-in-the-wall town in the middle of nowhere…. But, something changed after we moved into the house, got to know the neighbors and shit….”

I suddenly pictured ‘Horseshit’ Harry scrambling to get away from Grandpa and our enchanted home.

“Well, that’s not entirely true,” I said, grimacing slightly. “But, there is something about here… about this place, and the craziness that surrounds us.” I motioned around me to the park-like setting that for some reason always seemed to calm my spirit, and also motioned to the grand antebellum that somehow looked even more majestic from where the barn stood.

“And, a girl,” said Alisia, shaking her head. “If I didn’t feel the very same things you speak of, I would be inclined to swing my vote to getting the hell out of Denmark and not even glancing at the place in a rearview mirror as we leave. But I do….”

She was right. And despite my sincere acknowledgement that the town had become ‘home-like’ to me in a very short period of time, the daughter of the Mateis had also become part of the reason I didn’t want to leave Denmark. There was something there… something I needed to understand before turning my back on it. I needed this mystery to be solved before I could move on….”

“I’ve got an idea,” said Alisia. “If you could visit the one location outside of our house and yard that you truly love about this town, where would it be?”

“Why? What in the hell does that have to do with anything?”

Her question made no sense to me. As I was about to leave my sis with her romance novel and seek out our father, to let him know my displeasure in not being given a say in our family’s future plans, she reached up and pressed her forefinger against my lips.

“Be still. Think of the place, Bas…. I can picture it in my mind and I see it in yours also. It should be obvious.”

The Winery? What in the hell?!

“Yes… the hills behind it have reminded us both of Napa Valley. It was the first thing other than the house to make us feel like we could survive the move from Chicago, and that we could actually
thrive
and be happy here. Remember?”

“Yeah, I do.” I still didn’t understand why it had anything to do with our present predicament.

“If you could go there right now, could I trust you to spend an hour getting in touch with your true feelings about staying or leaving?” she asked, pressing her finger to my lips again when I started to protest. “You need this, Bas, in order to know your true feelings.
I
need this from you, too…. And if you return feeling as you do at this moment, then I will assist you in protesting Dad and Mom’s decision to flee Denmark…. But if you find that your feelings are actually what they were when we first got here, then I need for you to be completely honest with me. I will then accept the decision of the majority to pack up and leave.”

She lowered her hand and stepped back, looking away while she awaited my response.

“Okay,” I said, after a moment in private deliberation. “So, how do we work this out?”

“First, trust me,” she said. “Next, call your broomstick.”

* * * * *

I ended up in a wooded area just behind the labeled vineyards designated for visitors to peruse at the Denmark Winery. Despite the high humidity, a cool breeze accompanied my landing just before the wormhole closed behind me. No one saw me, I was sure of it, and none of the workers in the wine production facilities behind the main building that housed the restaurant, lounge, and wine shop noticed my presence. I would’ve bet my life on it.

But the peaceful spot felt bereft of the spiritual calm I sought. Though it had seemed incredibly serene just weeks earlier, it was now merely a scenic area industrialized to make a profit. I couldn’t understand what had changed. Yet, before giving up and returning home, I used a primitive form of magic to surround myself with an imaginary circle of white light. I was desperate for peace and willing to try anything to recapture what I had felt before, when Alisia and I had made it our favorite place to visit in Denmark.

As I closed my eyes and pictured the pristine glow around me, I suddenly became aware of an immense black shadow that emanated from the town itself, stretching tendrils of malice to the outskirts where the winery was located.

The Mateis’ poisoned hold upon the town? Ah, hell… yeah that’s not creepy!

For a moment, I wondered if this was an unforeseen aspect of the illusory imagery I had conjured from my mind. But as I focused on the divine spark that lives deep within all of us, the impenetrable shadow headed for me suddenly receded. At the same time, the white light I had summoned filled the void left behind by the shadow. As it did, my spirit felt lifted.

Grateful for the reprieve, I now had the calmness necessary to find out for sure if I wanted to remain in Denmark, or if it was truly time for my family to cut our losses and move on. My vote—if my father would relent to include the real one—needed to be based on wisdom, and not tainted by misplaced desire and my hormones.

I began to relax and inhale the essence of this magical place, with rolling hills that called to mind the famed vineyards and wineries of northern California. A warm sensation soon embraced me, and in that instant I knew for certain it was
this
place called Denmark, and not some infatuation for a girl, pulling on my heart to stay. Delighted, I began to smile… until a soft familiar voice startled me from behind.

“So, you like this place, too?”

I whirled around, almost losing my balance. She was there, dressed like a normal girl in white shorts, pink top and sandals—no ‘Goth’ whatsoever.

“Daciana… what are you doing here?”

Not the kindest greeting, and not at all what I would’ve liked to say. But I’ve never been a cool customer when under pressure.

She laughed, and shook her head as if amused.

“I came to see you, silly Sebastian,” she said. “And, it’s nice to see you without your shades. You have pretty eyes.”

I didn’t know what to say… my first reaction was embarrassment, like a grade school kid with his first crush. I honestly didn’t know what to do next. Not to mention, I could’ve kicked myself for leaving my sunglasses on the desk in my bedroom. When I sought out my sis by the barn, I figured I’d be there for just a few minutes, tops. I had no idea I’d be here, and even less, that I’d be talking with the girl who had dominated my thoughts since our first encounter at the movie theater just two weeks ago.

“That’s cool,” I finally muttered, shrugging with my hands buried in my pants pockets. Completely juvenile, and yet she didn’t regard me with disdain for my awkwardness. “I like this place… I came here to think.”

When all else fails, tell the truth. No, that’s not something handed down to me by some sage like my grandfather. It’s what literally scrolled through my head right then. And, when she nodded in response to my silent musing, I knew I had already lost the battle to express my interest in her discreetly.

“I like this place, too,” she said, smiling. Her gorgeous eyes glistened lovingly. “I’ve been waiting for you to go someplace where it would be safe to talk.”

“What about?”

“Nothing specifically… I just want to get to know you.”

“Oh,” I said, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “That sounds great… I mean, I would like to get to know you, too.”

I was doomed to look like an idiot, and wondered if my stumbling over the words would conjure images of the bananas foster mess pouring down my face the previous afternoon.

“You are adorable when you worry about trying to impress a girl,” said Daciana, confirming that my thoughts were an open book to her. “You were quite brave yesterday… although I worried you might get killed.”

She frowned slightly, as if picturing her brother’s intended demise for me in our downtown duel.

“Serghei hates me,” I said. “Surely he’s not the only one.”

“Does anyone beyond your sister know about your interest in me?” she asked.

“No… at least I don’t think so,” I replied. “Maybe my mom and grandma… and maybe my uncle.”

“The one who wants to wipe my family from the earth, me included?”

Her words stung me to the core. But they were true, as Adrian had voiced his Matei disdain on a daily basis since arriving in Denmark.

“Adrian talks a little crazy, but he is only reacting to Serghei and your uncles,” I tried to assure her. “I would likely be dead by now if not for Adrian…. But I won’t let him hurt you.”

Saying this sent a surge of energy through me, one that felt so strange… more like an incredible urge to protect her—the youngest daughter of my family’s long time enemies. It was crazy… beyond ridiculous, and yet very real. As real as the instinct to protect my sister.

“Well, don’t worry so much, Sebastian,” she said, eyeing me playfully as she stepped back to a large pecan tree and retrieved her broomstick. “Just see what you can do to
not
leave here. Give my brother, uncles, and my dad time. My mother already likes you… a little. The others will come around, because they have to.”

“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. ”