Page 80 of Beer & Broomsticks
Alex laughed. His friend was always the height of sophistication, and phrases likemy badspilling from his lips were humorous.
He held his hand up, and Damian helped him to his feet, dusting any stray blades of grass from Alex’s back.
“Ouch, be gentle. Everything aches.” Alex touched two fingers to his bloody lower lip and hissed out a breath.
“Don’t be such a crybaby, Castor. It wouldn’t have taken so long if you hadn’t been the cat to his mouse.” Damian smirked. “Although, I do understand the desire to toy with him. He was an easy man to hate.”
Forty-five years ago, when the Aether had caught him trying to steal his wallet, he’d taken one look at the scrawny boy Alex was and bought him a meal. The entire time Alex shoveled food into his mouth, Damian and Alastair had questioned him. And by the time he was full, he had the presence of mind to wonder why two men, so elegant and beautiful as his intended victims, would bother with a young boy.
But the men hadn’t wanted anything from him. Damian had simply written an address and phone number on a business card, handed it over, and told the boy if he wanted to learn the craft of magic, he was willing to train him, but he expected Alex to work hard and leave off his thieving ways.
So began his rigorous training in all things. Magic, fighting, schooling.
It was Alastair Thorne who had taught him how to play the stock market and build his portfolio, and it was also Al who had convinced him to change his name so that Alex didn’t have to continually look over his shoulder, waiting for his loathsome family to find him.
Those two outstanding men had not only become his mentors, they became his best friends, and he’d lay down his life for either, just as they would lay down theirs for him.
“Perhaps it’s because I’m facing my twilight years, or perhaps it’s the fact I barely escaped death this time, but I find myself getting sentimental, Dethridge.” He shoved away the embarrassment he always experienced when revealing his innermost feelings and continued. “I owe you a debt of gratitude that I can never repay. You saved my life when you caught me stealing from you. Thank you, my friend.”
“Stop it. You’ll have me tearing up, and how will that look? The formidable Aether bawling like a toddler?” Damian mock shuddered. When he saw Alex wasn’t wavering and wouldn’t laugh off the moment, he smiled. “I couldn’t have been prouder of you if you were my own son, Castor. You took every tool we gave you and expanded on it, making yourself great. But at your core was a kind heart.” He glanced down at Loman’s inert body. “Something your brother was severely lacking.”
Alex followed his gaze and stared down at his twin. “I see other siblings and wish we could’ve had that kind of relationship.”
“He was too filled with hate. Some people are simply bad seeds, Alex. Remember that.”
“What should we do with him?”
“I’ll make a call to the Council. They can dispose of the body.”
“It feels strange walking away. Leaving him to rot.”
Damian dropped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “That’s your kind heart again. But I think you know better in this case.”
“I do.” Expelling a heavy sigh for the innocent childhood he wished he’d had and the family that was never going to let that happen, he turned his back on the past. “I need a drink.”
“I’ve got that covered. But first, we have a debrief with the Witches’ Council.”
“Fuck.”
* * *
Loman spent exactlyone celestial hour in the holding area of the Otherworld, waiting for judgment to come down. Or that was his best estimate based on the alignment of the sun through the trees. He was under no delusions as to where he would be sent when he faced the Goddess. As a mere boy, he’d secured his place in hell by killing one of her favored creatures. Of all things, a stupid cat. But at the time, he was arrogant enough to believe he’d displace the Devil himself and take the throne for his own.
He chuckled at his own foolishness.
Bored out of his mind, he leaned back against the rough bark of a large oak and caught sight of the sunlight as it sparkled off a barely discernible symbol floating in the air in front of him. Had he not been in that precise spot at that exact moment, he might’ve missed it. He reached to trace it and got a nasty burn for his troubles. With a hiss and a vicious curse, he looked around for something he could use. A fallen branch looked to be perfect for his needs.
“Yeah, and here goes nothin’,” he muttered.
To his surprise, he didn’t get burned, electrocuted, or punished in any way for tracing the symbol. Words he’d never before seen or spoken came to him, and he chanted them three times as he continually traced the sigil.
Fire flared to life, burning away the invisible shield covering the tree’s opening, and Loman laughed at the discovery. If he wasn’t mistaken, it was the portal to another dimension. He had a moment’s indecision at the thought he might end up in the Underworld, but he recalled a word in the spell he’d spoken,terra, which was Latin forearth.
“Watch out, feckers, here I come!” he shouted as he stepped into the opening at the base of the tree.
He experienced a rush in his veins, similar to when he fired up to teleport from one location to another. The burning in his cells was on the brink of being unbearable, and he opened his mouth to scream, but the sound remained locked in his throat. In another instant, he was at the base of another oak tree on a property he’d never seen before.
With a dismissive look at the expansive gardens with their hedge maze, he closed his eyes and thought of his estate. Nothing happened. No warming of the cells, no instantaneous travel home. Nothing.
His magic was gone.
Furious beyond measure and determined to rectify the problem, he began walking.
* * *
