The Witches Of Denmark (22 page)

I had to try to call it… and prayed that my pleading tone and use of its association with my great grandfather, who willed it to me during his final days on earth, would be enough.

“Paznic de Aurel veni la mine!” I shouted.
Guardian of Aurel come to me!

Serghei laughed, along with his father and uncles. But before he could muster a shot to my chest, the double doors to the ice cream parlor flew open and a gleaming object sped toward me through the air. I grabbed the wand and fell to the ground, as a heated plasma stream of electricity flew just above me, crackling in the area where my midsection had been only seconds earlier. I rolled over, chanting a spell of defense and protection of those held dear, and then launched my own plasma stream, tinted orange—a bit more aggressive than I intended, but effective.

Serghei’s and my streams met just above our heads and then locked onto each other. From here on out, it would be strength of wills that would determine the winner: him in his rage and hatred versus me and my desperate fight to protect those I loved, as well as the innocent bystanders who now numbered well over one hundred, hiding behind automobiles and the downtown square’s statues and park benches.

Suddenly the rest of the Mateis drew their wands and I saw a blur speeding overhead that knocked Serafim away from my sister. Adrian had arrived, and before my sister’s stunned Matei assailant could recover and react, my uncle had gathered Alisia in his arms and carried her over to where the rest of my family stood, facing the row of Mateis witnessing Serghei’s and my battle. The armed tips of their wands glowed in readiness.

I must admit that much of what took place after a volley of Romanian taunts and threats was limited to my peripheral range. While Serghei and I pushed against each other’s plasma streams in our struggle for supremacy, wand flares crossed ours from both sides. The air sizzled with intense energy, and several limbs from the majestic pin oaks, black walnuts, and maples in the square crashed to the ground. Some were engulfed in flames, and I heard anxious cries and shouts from Denmark’s populace that remained in attendance for the first official ‘Matei-Radu battle’ ever in this region of the world.

My worry about the events going on around us eventually distracted me to where an errant wand flare from Serghei knocked me twenty feet into one of the aforementioned trees. I slammed into it awkwardly, bloodying my nose when I landed on the unforgiving lawn face-first. I assumed Serghei would finish me off, knowing his disregard for the guidelines of The Code. But before he could reach me, he too was thrown into a tree, one of the taller oaks, courtesy of a wand shot from my father. Serghei slid to the ground unconscious, and before Simion, Serafim, and Cristian could retaliate, Adrian stood between them and my father, who had come over to assist me. Adrian held two wands, pointed from his waist like a gunslinger from the Old West. The only Matei who could tip the battle into a true blood fest at that point was Valerian, and for a moment it looked like he would attack my oldest uncle. But when Grandpa leaped through the air in time to place the tip of his wand against the Matei patriarch’s carotid artery, Valerian lowered his wand.

Ancient customs took precedence, as when Valerian surrendered, Grandpa did the same. The rest of the warlocks and witches on either side followed suit.

We had fought to a standstill—both families bearing bruised and battered members, but no serious injuries. Had the Mateis retreated home by way of wormholes, our stay in Denmark, Tennessee might have ended that very night. However, they calmly returned to their luxury automobiles parked near Tuttle’s Ice Cream Shoppe and climbed in. They sped away, disregarding the traffic light on Woodard Street as they raced back to their side of town. Sadly, I didn’t see Daciana again, and my heart’s immediate ache for her surprised me.

Meanwhile, the rest of us slowly looked around at the audience we had attracted—at least three hundred fearful souls.

A very bad day stood to get much worse. We were
so
screwed!

While worrying we might be best served by a sudden wormhole escape, an idea occurred to me. The thought initially made little sense… but on a day such as this, what could possibly seem logical or natural?

“Alisia… tell the others to follow my lead,” I whispered to my sister, who had recovered from her attack and limped over to my side to check on me.

“What in the hell are you talking about?” she replied, louder than I would’ve liked.

“You have to trust me…. Tell the ones who can hear you by thought to simply follow my lead and smile,” I urged her. “Tell everyone else the same thing in Romanian. Okay?”

Not waiting for her to comply, I turned to face the largest section of wide-eyed spectators. I bowed, lifting my gaze toward the murmuring audience while allowing my forced smile to fully widen. Then I glanced at my sister, offering her a playful wink, and she curtseyed.

From there, the rest of our family quickly caught on, repeatedly bowing and curtseying while the crowd gave us a rousing ovation. They clapped and cheered, and I was pleasantly surprised that my idea worked. Even when a damaged gargoyle above The Sanchuan Garden crashed onto the pavement below, instead of scurrying for cover, the crowd continued to rain applause upon us.

“So, what in the hell was that all about?” my father asked, when we were safely away from the square, as we walked back to our house taking a short cut to Old Dominion. “All of this could have been avoided if you two had simply obeyed my orders to remain in the yard. What was so damned difficult about that?”

“I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t think something like this would happen—at least not in the square,” Alisia told him. “It’s my fault.”

“Actually, it’s more my fault,” I said. “I should’ve allowed the prick named Serghei to dump ice cream on my head undeterred.” Mostly this was sincere.

“Hmmm…. The banana is a nice touch,” Dad teased, patting my shoulder to confirm the joke. “You should wear it for a week or so, Bas…. Maybe it will serve as a reminder for you
not
to act on your whims. In the meantime, this should buy us some time to figure out where to go next.”

“Or, whether we should continue to stand our ground,” added Mom. “After all, we were here first and should be treated with respect.”

Not sure if that argument had merit, or not. After all, it didn’t do much for the Lenape Indians when they traded Manhattan for pox-laden blankets and some trinkets. But perhaps battling to a standstill could count as a victory of some measure.

It just depended on the Mateis, and when and where the next attack would come from.

Chapter Eighteen

The hot topic of ‘Should we stay or should we go?’ made for a much more volatile conversation than any of our previous ‘flight’ discussions. It lasted until the dawn’s light crept in through the eastern windows of our grand antebellum the following morning. In the end nothing was settled that Friday, other than Adrian’s vow to obliterate the next Matei who threatened any of us. Grandpa’s continued cautionary stance had lost its teeth, and both of my uncles had moved past the breaking point of respect for his final authority. I think he knew it, too, as he pleaded for them both to not cavalierly anger the Elders. They floated upstairs on the way to their hidden quarters in the attic, and he hurried to the foyer to implore them for a commitment to heed his request to not incite another confrontation with our enemies. I heard Manuel give a tepid agreement before disappearing into Alisia’s bedroom closet, where the hidden entrance to the attic awaited him and Adrian.

“Father, let them rest. I will speak with Adrian and Manuel before they rejoin us this afternoon,” said Dad, slipping his arm around Grandpa’s shoulders to give him a hug. “By then, I should have the latest list of available properties out west to review.”

“We’re not moving without a majority vote,” Mom said, from inside the doorway to the dining room, where we had spent most of the past night’s ongoing argument. “And, Bas, it was a passionate discussion—not a war of words, as you have incorrectly assumed.”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t a passionate discussion,” I countered, hating her voyeurism into my thoughts. I acted surprised, unwilling to concede any unnecessary ground—especially for what seemed like splitting hairs.

“Passionate discussion does sound a lot better than ‘ongoing argument’,” said Alisia, grinning at me. “It’s
not
splitting hairs.”

Know what I hate even worse? The two of them tag-teaming me.

“It could be three of us instead of just your mother and sister ganging up on you, my dear,” teased Grandma, carrying a serving tray into the kitchen. “Can I get anyone anything while I’m in here? Anyone care for breakfast?”

“I’d like to first have a look at the neighborhood from
our
roof,” Grandpa advised, pausing to plant a soft kiss on my grandmother’s forehead. “Then I’ll take a nap while Gabriel keeps an eye on things until I’m up for good.”

“I’ll brew a fresh pot of coffee, Mother,” said Mom, following her into the kitchen. “Then I’ll keep Gabe company until he retires.”

“Sounds like almost everyone is planning on sacrificing sleep today,” I said, the burn in my eyes steadily getting worse. Admittedly, I had not slept well the past few nights for a number of reasons, and it had caught up with me.

“Everyone but them,” said Alisia, pointing to the ceiling high above the foyer, where light creaks announced our uncles’ footsteps in the attic.

“And me,” I said, drawing raised eyebrows from all three ladies. “But it will just be for a few hours, and then I’ll help patrol the house.”

“Sleep for as long as you need to, son,” said Grandpa. “You’ll do us more good if you aren’t nodding off tonight.”

“What’s happening tonight?” I asked.

“It’s Toma Matei’s birthday,” said Grandma, when Mom and Dad said nothing, looking at Grandpa, who looked at her. “It hasn’t been a notable event since World War II, but given the fact we are all starting over in a new city, I would expect the wounds felt by Irina and Valerian have been refreshed since they never allowed a natural healing process to take place when he died.”

“So, will we be attacked, you think?” asked Alisia.

“I doubt it,” said Grandpa, peering longingly at the Beauregard’s roof through the living room’s east side window. “They fear Adrian’s wizardry and temper too much, I believe. But, it doesn’t mean they won’t try to find a breach in our protective spells and launch an attack against someone weaker… like you kids.”

“There won’t be any shenanigans like yesterday, though, will there?”

Dad looked at me more than Alisia as he said this, and for a moment I felt the heat of indignation warm my cheeks. Even so, I nodded compliantly, as did Alisia.

“Good… then we have nothing to worry about,” he said, sending a subtle wink to our mother. “And if you go outside, what is the rule again?”

“We stay inside the borders of the yard,” my sister affirmed.

“Very good.”

Dad seemed quite pleased, and I wanted to yell out that my sister and I were no longer young kids who needed to be coddled and protectively watched over. Yet, considering his recent brush with death at the hands of the Mateis, I knew there would be no leniency or audience for a perspective that differed from his own. Not to mention, Mom certainly felt just as strongly as he did.

It made it easy for me to hole up in my bedroom, though sleep didn’t come as easy as I had hoped and assumed it would. And when restless boredom inspired me to find my sister, just after noon, I found her reading one of her beloved Jane Austin paperbacks in the shade behind the barn.

“Well, you missed the vote,” she told me, when I tried to sneak up on her and failed miserably.

“What vote?”

“The vote to leave or stay,” she advised. “It was close, but as of Monday, the house is officially going on the market.”

“Are you serious?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” she said, closing her book to look up at me.

She looked depressed, which told me her vote must’ve been for us to stay…. This surprised me, but not nearly as much as the sudden feeling of alienation returning full force to my solar plexus, like a sucker punch to the gut. As if I was back in mid-May again, when I first heard the news we were moving to some hick town in the south. Ironically, the very place I had dreaded moving to had managed to sink some pretty deep talons into my heart and soul since then. I didn’t want to leave. Or, more accurately, I wasn’t
ready
to leave. Not yet.

“Your vote was the one to swing us to leaving,” Alisia continued, looking off toward the majestic willow tree that guarded the corner of Chaffin’s bend and Lee Street like a proud sentry.

“What?!
I never voted!” I protested.

“You didn’t have to vote for everyone to know you never wanted to come here, and could hardly wait to move on to someplace else,” she said. “So, Dad counted you as one of the votes to leave, and it was enough to swing the victory to a decision to move either to Austin or Denver. They sound like great places, but….”

“But the Mateis will pursue us there!” I said, feeling my anger rising. “It’s pointless and stupid to move!”