A Witch’s Summons

Chandra Bryant glanced at the stacks of papers on her desk. She groaned. 

Her boss scheduled a meeting for Monday, and he wanted a market analysis for the two new stores opening next month. At least she didn’t have to go to Riezer’s today. As the senior director in communications for one of the largest grocery stores in Springfield, Massachusetts, she had the freedom to work from home. Instead of being relaxed and reviewing the data she collected, she stared at her computer monitor. 

Her lashes lowered for a moment, she encouraged her body to return to bed, but her mind rejected the idea. She snapped awake when images of her recent nightmare popped into her mind. Her heart raced against her chest as the dream replayed itself. White flames engulfed her, licking her skin with such intensity, she’d screamed until she jumped out of the chair and rushed to the mirror in her bedroom. 

“It’s not real,” she whispered to herself.

Chandra inhaled a slow, deep breath, shaking off any remnant of fear. A gaseous growl churned in her stomach, reminding her that she missed dinner and lunch. She walked towards the kitchen. As she pushed the door with her palm, it swung open. Something hard slammed into her. 

Something huge. 

Something that grabbed her arms.

Chandra gasped. She glanced down, only to see large golden hands holding her. Her heart thumped so loud she feared it would explode. Before panic set in, her gaze followed the lines of the sun-kissed fingers to muscular arms and over broad shoulders, ending on light violet eyes.

They stared down at her with sharp intensity.

She froze, too afraid to move an inch. A part of her mind told her to run, to scream for help, but her feet remained rooted to the floor. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. 

The churning in her stomach shifted into a sick queasy feeling. Blood raced through her body.

His purple irises remained fixed on her, shooting warnings of danger—a predator out on a hunt for his prey. 

Chandra took a step back. Her hand flew to up her chest, pressing against the rapid beat of her heart.

“Why have you summoned me?” he growled. 

The shadows of the evening rays hid the shade of his brows. Nevertheless, she saw their shape. They dipped, the ends almost touching each other. Deep furrows lined his forehead as his lips came together in a thin line. His nostrils flared in and out like a bull ready to attack. 

Chandra’s gaze drifted down his body. “I…” The sound of the single vowel lingered in the air as the rest of what she wanted to say disappeared from her mind. 

The man’s shirt did nothing to cover the solid mass of muscles underneath his clothes. Pectoral muscles peeked at her between the folds of the gapping material. 

She reached out her hand to touch him, but stopped the moment she heard him speak again. 

“I will ask you again. Why have you summoned me?”

She looked at his face. “I didn’t summon you. I don’t even know you.”

His complexion reddened, matching the feral light in his eyes, which closely bordered outright malice. “Do you know what you’ve done? I was about to defeat the Gauldor when you called me. Because of you, the beast will continue to enslave the innocent!” 

Chandra trembled. His appearance in her apartment—the whole situation itself—resembled altered reality or a dream.

“Where is your master?” The man glanced over her shoulder. “I would have words with him.”

His talk of her ‘master’ and a battle with a Gauldor troubled her. What if he was an escaped lunatic? Not wanting to upset him further, she opted to use a calm tone. “I don’t have a master.”

“What?” he snapped. “Who allowed you to run amok?” His eyes widened; the wrinkles on his forehead smoothed out. “The magistrate would never allow a witch to cast a spell without her master.”

Master? What was he talking about? 

On top of it all, his rude tone grated on her nerves. She refused to stand in her kitchen and allow this stranger to insult her. 

Chandra placed her hands on her hips. “For one thing, I’m not a witch. For another, no one is my master.” She stressed the word ‘no.’                                     

“So, you are a renegade,” he growled. 

This man is really crazy. “A renegade? What are you talking about?”

He circled around her, perusing her body from head to toe. Shivers of awareness traveled across her skin. “Tell me witch, have you been corrupted by a demon?” he said in a harsh deep voice.

“What?” 

He grabbed her arm with his right hand and used the left one to pull the thick straps of her tank top down her arm. “Ahhh. The Altraias. So you are one of the seekers.”

Chandra’s gaze followed his action. She looked at the circular, brown and green birthmark on her shoulder. “What are you talking about?” She tugged at her arm, but he held her firm in his grasp. 

“Princess, there is no need for your play-acting. I am versed in all the symbols of every Fenarian house.”

“I’m not a princess.” She paused. Maybe, she should humor his delusions until she found the opportunity to escape him or call the police. “What’s a Fenarian?”

He ignored her question. “Your house has always been masters of manipulation. You thrive on multiplying your powers through sleep.” He took a threatening step closer to her. “So once again, why have you summoned me?”

The urge to flee screamed at her in her mind again, to run, to escape from this crazy man, but his closeness sent the heat of awareness to the pit of her stomach, where all she wanted to do was stare at him. “I didn’t summon you,” she whispered. Only mere inches separated her from him. His breath blew on her lips.  

He edged closer to her, narrowing the space between them. “You are the only witch here.”

The apartment suddenly seemed small— isolated. Her heart raced as her breath quickened. She pressed her palms on his chest to halt his movement. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Heat from his body practically leaped into her fingers. She yearned to caress his warm flesh, to spread them over the hard taught muscles she could feel under his shirt. 

Chandra removed her hands. What’s wrong with me? For crying out loud, I just met the man. And yet, her fingertips still tingled, begging for another chance to touch him.

His gaze delved deeper into hers, as if he tried to read her mind. “You really do not know, do you?” He released her.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I don’t understand what you’re accusing me of. I don’t have any powers.”

“That’s where you are wrong. You do have powers.” He leaned closer to her and sniffed. “I can smell it on you.”

Chandra pulled the collar of her shirt to her nose in alarm. She hoped she didn’t reek because her deodorant gave up on her hours ago. After several seconds of sniffing both armpits, she found nothing off-putting in her smell. She needed to stop encouraging this man’s delusions, to call the police to get him out of here, yet she found herself saying, “What powers?”

“You are a conjurer. Your house is one of the most powerful.”

At those words, she stepped back, hoping he didn’t notice her slow retreat toward the front door. Nuts, this was nuts. He’d proven sanity had left him. “What do you mean by house?”

“Your family.” A confused light appeared in his eyes. “Don’t you know who they are?”

“Of course, I know who my parents are.” Chandra paused as she thought about the only people who ever cared about her. “They adopted me when I was two years old. They…” She choked back a sob before she continued. “They died several years ago. They were the only family I had, so don’t tell me I don’t know who my family is.” She didn’t know why she shared her thoughts with him.

He looked at her for a few seconds, as if he was processing what she said to him. His expression cleared and his brows rose. “You must be the missing princess—Princess Lucinda Mavora Freydian, the lost princess of the House Altraias.”

“I’m not a princess.”

He followed her into the light of the living room. “You were kidnapped as a baby. Your parents did everything to find you. They consulted every mystic in Fenara. While everyone told them you were dead, your parents maintained that you were alive. They never gave up hope that they would find you.”

The story he relayed was an orphan’s fantasy. Although Chandra loved her adoptive parents dearly, learning about who her real parents were still lingered in the back of her mind. She’d thought about them, wondered if she shared any of their features or personality traits. 

She shouldn’t fall in with his delusion, but she wanted to believe his story. “Where are they?” 

“Your mother lives in a small city called Tesvor.”   

“And my father?” For some reason, a hollow feeling settled in her chest. 

His expression turned grim. “Foot soldiers ambushed him, and he died soon after you disappeared.”

She inhaled slow deep breaths before she spoke. “Let’s suppose everything you said to me is true. How did you get here?”

He closed the distance between them and peered down at her with pensive eyes. “You brought me here.” 

Danyun Hreadhyl Vandamere scrutinized the woman in front of him.

Is it possible? Was she truly the missing Freydian princess?

She resembled many of the women from the house of Altraias. Her head reached the middle of his chest. Even her coloring ran similar to theirs. She was dark, like the ecru sands of the Carian Mountains. He found her manner of dress was reminiscent of what the women of his world wore every day.

The short sleeves of her shirt allowed him a view of her smooth skin. His eyes traveled over her chest and caught sight of her nipples through the thin top. His body hardened in reaction to what he saw. The thin material of her long skirt hid nothing. He glimpsed at slim legs, imagined how they would feel wrapped around his waist.

For some reason, something about her called to him. He ached to brush the back of his hand along the smooth skin of her arm, to comb his fingers through her short curly black hair. He wondered if they were as soft as the strands appeared.

His attraction for the short hairstyle surprised him. Women from his world allowed their hair to grow past their waist. His people considered long locks a sign of great power and position.

If this woman was a Freydian, her family would not approve of her appearance.

Her family’s opinion shouldn’t concern him. Finding and destroying the demon should take precedence over his every thought.

His muscles clenched, alerting him to a disturbance in the air. Something foul and putrid surrounded him. He recognized the scent.

A demon.

A powerful one.

And, it was nearby.

Danyun’s palm prickled. With a single thought, his sword materialized in his hand.

The witch next to him screamed. He ignored her. Instead, his eyes panned the room, checking for signs of a hovering shadow. Nothing stirred in any of the corners of the room. Pots and pans hung on some sort of metal contraption, suspended from the ceiling. Traces of residual heat surrounded the box shaped block underneath the pans. Four chairs circled a round table with a floral covered tablecloth. The unusual fixtures of the room called upon him to draw a comparison with the eating chambers from his world, but he ignored this interest. Danger still lurked in the air, leaving it with a subtle smokey smell.

He refused to allow this new threat to live. Once he killed the evil spirit of this realm, he would pursue the Gauldor and destroyed it.

Danyun glanced over the woman’s shoulder, through the gap between the door and the frame, but he couldn’t pinpoint the demon’s location.

“What? How did you do that?” The woman’s voice trembled. He glanced at her to see her eyes wide on the glowing sword. Fear clouded their depth, but they did nothing to move him.

“Quiet,” he snapped. “It is here.”

“Are you going to hurt me?” Her voice trembled on every word.

Disgusted by the woman’s obvious terror, Danyun grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him. “You are useless,” he breathed into her face, “I have no need to kill you. I need you to send me home. So… quiet.” He told himself that he protected the witch for only one reason, she was probably the only conjurer in this realm who had the ability to send him home.

Danyun released her and focused his attention to pacing the room.

As always, hunter, you’ve failed.

The words whispered in his mind. Danyun halted.

Thank your witch for me. She brought me to a new world, a place where I can feed to my darkest content.

Danyun’s muscles twitched. His fingers tightened around the hilt of his weapon.

This planet is filled with so many souls, so many energies, and so many depravities. I’m going to enjoy it here.

Danyun circled around the witch. He placed his body in front of hers, placing himself as her shield. After all, this woman was his only key to returning home. “I won’t allow you to roam free. I will destroy you.”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t hurt me?” the woman whispered behind him.

“Quiet,” he commanded under his breath.

Maybe, I’ll eat your witch first.

Fury hit Danyun. There was no question; the Gauldor would die a slow and painful death if he dared harm this witch.

He slowed his inhalations and exhalations. The room lay shadowed. The Gauldor usually reigned in the shadows. He scanned the darkness once again for any sign of the demon’s whereabouts, but there was nothing to reveal its hiding place.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw her run for the door. He grunted as he gave chase. The second she reached the door he snatched her elbow.

She tugged her arm hard against his hold. “Let go of me, you sicko!”

“I won’t let you go until you send me home.”

“You’re crazy!” She kicked his knee, used her fingers to pry his from her. “If you don’t let me go, I’m going to scream. My neighbors will call the police.”

“Involve anyone and they will die.”

That quieted her, but still she glanced at the door, several feet away from them. She looked at him again, and he felt her shiver.

Sorcerers are so unpredictable. I’m sorry I can’t stay here to watch this delightful play, but a bountiful feast awaits me.

A strong wind blew around Danyun and the woman. But it wasn’t an ordinary wind. A white puff of smoke, with a monstrous face, flew past them to disappear through the wall.

“Oh, shit!” The woman wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tight. “What the hell was that?”

“That 'witch' was a Pythos demon.”

“But…demons don’t exist.”

Danyun reached for her arms and pulled them off him. “Don’t they?” Now more than ever, the urgency to find the creature increased. If he didn’t find it soon, it would infest this world with evil and pain.

And, the witch would be the one to lead him to the demon. “You have to find it.”

“What?”

He sighed in disgust. Why did the gods give him this task? Why was he stuck with this inept witch? “You are the one who has the power to find it.”

“No way.” She shook her head in a quick, repetitive motion. “I’m not involving myself in this. No wonder I keep having night terrors. This is just one of my dreams. Soon, I’ll be waking up screaming.”

“This is not a dream. And if you don’t do something to find the demon, your world will become a nightmare.”

She turned away from him. “I’m not going to listen to you. You’re not real.”

Danyun didn’t have time to debate with her. He dragged her to the window. If she refused to be reasonable, then he would just have to enlighten her.

“What are you doing?” she shouted.

Instead of answering her, he walked through the window.