The Witches Of Denmark (26 page)

“We can’t talk long,” she interrupted me. There was pained urgency in her tone. “By now you’ve heard what happened.”

“Yes, I’ve heard,” I said. “Is your brother going to be all right?”

“I think so. He wasn’t hurt as badly as we initially feared. Although, what Manuel did to Serghei would’ve easily killed a mere mortal…. I’ve never seen my father and uncles, and even my grandfather, this angry!” she said, worriedly. “They have killed before—all of them. The gangster rumors are true about the men in my family. They are
ruthless
and I’m terribly afraid for you and your family! Something bad is going to happen, and this time the thirst for revenge will surely draw blood….”

She began to weep, and actually, I believe she had already been crying. I wanted to blurt out my devotion to her, since I honestly felt it was unlikely we’d ever speak again. Neither family would allow it. There was no way to win.

“They can’t stop us yet—you’re wrong about that!” she said angrily. I’m not sure why it took me back, since it seems like every witch in existence these days has open access to my unspoken musings. “Do you know of the abandoned teenage hideout behind the school across from where you live?”

“I’ve heard of it,” I said, picturing the two-room shack once mentioned by Sadee, where the older neighborhood kids would meet for nefarious activities such as smoking a little weed, having a few beers, and exploring young lust—all frowned upon by the elderly residents who once used the place to do the same damned things when they were young. “It’s next to the ravine.”

“Can you meet me there in the morning, say around nine o’clock?”

“Sure. I’ll be there,” I assured her.

Not that getting there undetected wouldn’t be a supreme challenge. My family would use every binding spell this side of Hades to make sure no one could enter or leave the premises without their consent. Yet, something told my heart I’d find a way around whatever barrier they concocted. If I had to turn myself into a mole to escape their surveillance, damned straight I would do whatever it took to see Daciana again. I’d surely regret it for a very, very long time if I missed this last opportunity.

“Good.” She sounded relieved. “I’ve got to go.”

The line went dead, and fears that her family had uncovered her plan and caused the disconnection began to chip away at my confidence. Even if it wasn’t the case, how could I keep my family—especially the females and Adrian—from picking up the planned rendezvous from my thoughts? I had no choice but to push the doubts away, if for no other reason than I’d go crazy thinking about the minefields we’d both be facing to see each other.

Time to rely on fate, I prayed it wouldn’t prove to be a cruel thing—either to me or this brave Matei, the disobedient daughter who obviously was as obsessed with me as I was about her. But, I also sent a fervent prayer heavenward that what I intended to do would not worsen the war, and in the end would somehow save us all from ourselves. That grace and love would conquer the anger… and prevent the bloodshed likely headed our way.

Chapter Twenty-one

I didn’t sleep a wink that night.

A restless night would surprise no one, I’m sure, given all that took place on Monday. After my phone call ended with Daciana, my self-imposed exile to my bedroom soon ended. But the slight euphoric lift from talking to her faded quickly. First, Alisia wasn’t in her bedroom, and I should’ve known my family’s intended flight from Denmark was already in full force by the uncluttered appearance of her room. Her cherished stereo system, that had been progressively upgraded over the past decade to one which most club DJs would be envious of, was packed in boxes… boxes that suspiciously looked identical to the ones we had thrown out after we moved into the house.

“What in the hell’s going on?” I asked, guardedly observing the foyer and living room from the stairs’ lower landing.

Boxes were everywhere, and the protective padding the movers had wrapped the living room furniture in now covered each piece once again. The only things not covered or packed that I could see were the massive credenza and mirror that were present when we moved in.

My heart sunk.

Are we moving by tonight?

“Father and Mother have given me their full blessing to use a little magic, since it certainly appears that a head start is in order, given what Manuel has managed to inflame for us,” said Adrian, stepping out of the dining room. He carried himself like a Gestapo officer, arms behind his back as he studied the walls and allowed his gaze to follow the height of the chandelier to its medallion thirty feet above. “Your parents have conceded the decision-making honors to me, as well… so,
that’s
what the hell’s going on, Sebastian.”

He smiled haughtily, and though I had nothing to personally fear from my uncle, I could almost smell the bloodlust emanating from him. Packing up the family, so that we were ready to disappear at a moment’s notice, was only step one. We were no longer handling things like we had always done before in Wheaton, where we circled the wagons and waited out the storm flares from the Mateis, lying low until their anger and malice safely passed over us. Adrian and Manuel had been with us through many of those episodes, and I recalled my oldest uncle’s fearfulness during the reign of gangsters like Capone and Dillinger terrorizing Chicago eighty years ago.

Things had certainly changed since then—dramatically so. Not only was Adrian no longer afraid of anything or anyone—including the ominous Elders in Europe—he was now the hunter, instead of the huntee. A true predator to the core, though aspects of goodness still remained in his person. He was capable of mercy, but it was no longer his first instinct.

Part of me envied the transformation he had gone through in Europe, where he encountered a group of wizards that even the Elders avoided. Adrian stayed with them for nearly five years, from what Manuel recently told Alisia and me. After his ‘indoctrination’ to a darker skill set that even the most powerful Mateis and other Radus around the world avoided, we had heard that Uncle Adrian was now a formidable warlock, feared and respected throughout Europe and abroad.

At first telling, that sounded to me like a bigger pile of horse manure than what had once covered Harry Turner’s yard across the street—especially since Adrian never came back to aid us in our worsening plight with the American Mateis. That is, until he and Manuel saved our asses at the Southern Comfort Inn in June. And, even though the latest incident between Manuel and Serghei would incite the Mateis’ wrath to a level of viciousness we hadn’t seen since the ‘Gangster Years’, when they assisted several crime bosses in minimizing the fallout from a number of high-profile assassinations, things could be far different than what Valerian, Simion, and even Serafim and Cristian—who had also spent much of the last few decades in Europe—expected. The hyenas chasing a fox might find a grizzly bear waiting instead.

“You’re absolutely on top of where this is headed, nephew,” said Adrian, commenting on my thoughts. He had turned away, moving toward the kitchen, where I could hear the clanking of dishware and the swish of paper. More packing? At least it was the non-magical variety, though just as distressing. “The readiness to flee that you see here is not on account of the ‘pen of swine’ located across town. Rather, this is for the Elders in Europe, who will surely descend upon this tiny town when I wipe out their beloved Mateis!”

“I thought the Elders were impartial?” I stepped down into the foyer and pursued him into the kitchen.

“Oh, that’s what they’ll tell you, kiddo!” said Adrian, snickering. “But actions always speak louder than words. They have been trying to even the supposed score between our families for the better part of one hundred and thirty years. They blame us for Toma’s death just as much as the Mateis do, which has always stuck in my craw for its hypocrisy. So, since the Elders have clearly turned a blind eye to Valerian’s, Irina’s, Simion’s, and Magdalena’s recent thirst for murdering harmless Roma witches in order to turn back the clock even further, what makes any of you think they won’t ignore the slaughter of some of us to gain even more Maybelline moments?”

The Mateis’ longstanding murderous reputation couldn’t be ignored. I was literally in hell at that moment, and knowing my uncle and the females in my family could read my thoughts clearly, I fought to not think of Daciana. My flimsy effort to rationalize how things could be resolved with our enemies had crumbled, giving way to the truth of our history.

Not only was I unsure of how I would get away to see Daciana, I now realized I might not even want to. After all, she was a Matei by blood. What if she was as treacherous as the rest of her family? What if tomorrow’s proposed rendezvous was a trap? Shit, she got my number somehow without my knowledge….

“Your efforts to hide your deeper feelings and thoughts won’t escape me forever, Sebastian,” cautioned Adrian, moving over to Grandma’s side to help her wrap some plum preserves that Sadee had brought her last week. He paused to steal a finger dip from a jar left open that apparently Mom and Dad had been snacking on, along with Grandpa. “Ummm, very good! I will have to tell her myself how amazing this is before we leave…. In the meantime, I will figure out what you’re hiding, my clever nephew. Count on it.”

Needless to say, being in a room with him and three highly intuitive Radu ladies was a terrible idea. And, my own doubts almost betrayed me… almost. But, despite everything, and knowing we had gone from a probable move to a sure thing, I had to know what this ‘feeling’ for Daciana was all about. I’d have to be on guard, which would make any conversation with her awkward….

“Be on guard for what?” Alisia asked.

“Nothing,” I told her, while a host of curious gazes turned toward me, along with the heated stare of Adrian. “Nothing I can’t figure out on my own. And the answer will be just as good in Austin or Denver.” I forced a hopeful smile and nodded thoughtfully, all the while thinking this Monday had definitely tumbled deep into the shitter.

“Just wait until tomorrow, Sebastian, and see what happens then,” said Adrian, his smile even more artificial than before. “Either in Austin or Denver.”

I clammed up after that, determined not to say or even think anything else related to Daciana and our war with the Mateis. After lunch, I helped pack the things that Mom and Dad insisted be handled normally, to bring closure to our stay in Tennessee. Any of my personal belongings, including three signed paperback novels given to me by Julien Mays and a small abstract painting given to all of us by Harrison Crawford, went into a rarely used suitcase I purchased at a Sears and Roebuck store right after World War II. 

Once the packing was done, I spent the afternoon walking around our amazing yard with Alisia for what I assumed was the last time. We joked about the moles, groundhogs, and ‘Horseshit’ Harry on through the evening, adding some badly needed mirth to only our second take-out pizza dinner at the house. I thought I’d be the first to retire—which surely would’ve fed suspicions about what I might be up to the next day. But, fortunately Manuel and Alisia retired first, followed by Grandma. I was next, and expected my parents to follow my move upstairs. But they hung out with Grandpa until well after midnight.

Adrian remained downstairs, and kept his stated promise to watch the house while everyone else slept. He did a great job at that. I know, since I heard him move about throughout the night, and he never let his guard down until Grandpa traded places when the first rays of the sun poured in through the eastern windows Tuesday morning. He must’ve known I was awake… or suspected something. I heard the floor creak outside my door, as if he were listening. He didn’t leave until I altered my thoughts to include cartoon characters like Bambi and butterflies. I doubt he was fooled, though, since I heard a low chuckle as the footsteps faded.

Finally alone, I thought about Daciana and our upcoming meeting in the ravine behind the arts school. My stomach carried a different kind of butterfly, a breed fed by iron and bearing stingers like wasps. For the next two hours, I thought only about her and what this day could mean to all of us, Radus or Mateis.

The merciless butterflies swarmed.

* * * * *

Day 56, July 14
th
. Eight weeks to the day since our arrival in Denmark, Tennessee.

A day carrying the ominous weight of consequential events set to play out in this quaint little town. Regardless of whether I successfully avoided every obstacle thrown onto my path by my uncle and the rest of my family, my hoped for meeting with Daciana was only a small aspect of the day. I knew this… knew it within the core of my very being. Either all-out war between the two families or my family’s flight from a potential battle were certain outcomes. Each result could play out in a myriad of directions, and the call of two hearts could be a significant part of the final outcome… or not.

I wish I could state that my higher self—ruler of one’s conscience—intervened on behalf of logic and reason. Sadly, it was easily ignored and dismissed in the same manner I disregarded Grandpa’s presence on the Beauregard’s roof that morning, as I pretended to carry out the trash on my way to visit with Harris again. Grandma accepted my excuse that I needed to apologize to him for Alisia’s rudeness yesterday, which I suppose would make her culpable, too. Damned straight it’s how Adrian would see things if he discovered I was nowhere to be found on the property when he awoke. Normally, he slept five to six hours, so that likely gave me until eleven o’clock… unless he planned on a catnap instead. If that was the case, he might well intercept me before I made it to the ravine behind the school.