3. The Bad Man In The Van

ALDRICH

Three hundred years.

Three hundred bloody years.

I stare at the trees and glowing lights that line the road as we practically fly down it. The constant fighting, endless hunger, and senseless silence.

“Three hundred cold, long years,” I say with a bit more of a bite to my tone than I intended.

Gently, I squeeze her shoulder. She’s real, this is real. I’m back .

There are not very many things in my life that have caught me unawares. But this young miss, nay, this gleaming ray of sunshine, has done just that. I haven’t seen a soul other than the creatures of this hell in almost two hundred years, and out of nowhere, she appears with her golden hair and sun-kissed skin. But what really got me was her voice. A melody, soft and sweet. A balm to my ears and soul.

She brought me back. Well, partially back . I glance down at my hazy form. My body is clearly neither here nor there. But back nonetheless to the realm of man and the place I never should have left.

And I almost lost the first opportunity I’ve ever had to escape. Almost lost her.

That loud metal beast, that vehicle, almost ran her down. And had I been one second slower, it would have. Once I’ve returned to full power, vehicles will be the first to go. Suisy might be the exception. It seems important to her.

I watch the lights shine over her hair. One side of the corner of her lips is pulled up in an adorable half frown pout that has me grinning. Is she fretting over me? How delightfully charming.

The small pest she called Mip grasps her hair with one small badly crocheted stubby arm and points his other between his eyes and me. Did she make him that fuzzy stitched thing he is using as a body? It has massive black mis-sized buttons as eyes with multicolored fabric for skin and some odd lace skirt thing. It looks like something a five-year-old drew.

I never thought much of the natives of the hell I found myself in, but at this moment I find myself utterly annoyed by them. I think I preferred when they avoided me. I gave up trying to communicate with their race after the first few years. They always fled when I approached their camps. They’re fast little guys with the ability to teleport as fast as a blink.

I reach out with my magic to flick him away. Nothing happens. Narrowing my eyes at the creature, he lets out a yip, grabbing onto her neck as I push more power out… and nothing.

So I can see into the world while I touch her, but that’s it. Which means I won’t be able to replenish my magic either. Bloody gobshite. I may as well be a ghost with all I can do. How am I to protect her if more than just a fast vehicle beast appears?

Clover turns her head to look down at the little rat who’s currently pointing at me. I quickly put on my most charming smile before she turns her head. I’ll be daft if I let anything make her dislike me. Without my magic, she’s the first ray of hope I’ve had to leave the hell I’m trapped in. And though I’ve never been considered a good man, I’ll work hard to be hers.

“So, Miss Clover, how long have you been able to traverse other worlds? Are all the witches in your family able to do so?”

“Oh, I’m not a witch. I’m just cursed. All the women in my family are. Stuck between here and there until one day, poof,” she says, making a popping gesture with her hand.

“We vanish, or worse.” She stares out the window for a moment and frowns, a dark shadow crossing over her eyes. I squeeze her hand gently and she shakes her head as if to clear it. “But sometimes we make it until our 40s,” she says with a smile. Whatever memory that plagues her dispels from her features as if it was never there.

“Wait what?”

“Yup, Mom said it’s the Calla curse to be forgotten. You just disappear, and no one else remembers you ever were, well, you. My grandma was like that. She just vanished one day, and everyone forgot her. Like she was never there at all.”

“Calla?” The name chimes an odd memory from the back of my mind. That’s impossible. The Calla witches from Spells Hollow? They survived?

“Yup, Clover Calla at your service!” She gives me a wink and giggles.

“My dear, you are most definitely a witch.”

“See, Clover, he is a bad man!”

Mip charges over, teleporting onto her hand and trying to pry my hand from hers. Fast little pest. I always wondered how they avoided me so well.

“How dare you call her a witch! Let go of Clover! Kick him out of Suisy!”

She raises a brow and gives me a are you mad look, and I smile widely. And a part of me wonders if I am. Perhaps after 200 years I have finally lost my sanity, and this is all a hallucination. But it certainly is a beautiful one if so.

“I have to watch the road, or we will hit something. Stop distracting me with your pretty eyes and face.”

“I mean it with the utmost respect,” I inform her, trying to meet her eyes, as she glances between me and the road before us. Horses appear far superior; they go in a direction and do not require you to do such menial labor. They avoid rocks and trees without any aid.

I hold up my finger. “Your small friend there, I assume ‘twas thee who made him that small body?”

She glances at me, her eyes gleaming with excitement. ”Oh, yes! I make lots of bodies for all my friends. Would you like one, too?” Her entire head moves as she looks me up and down, and I’d be lying if I didn’t hold myself a little straighter beneath her appraisal. “It might take me a while to make one your size, though.”

Glancing at the Mip creature’s unique body, I clear my throat. “Well, perhaps sometime,” I say, not wanting to disappoint her, but also, I’d prefer to not ever look like that. “You undoubtedly can traverse to another realm.”

“Yeah, it just kinda happens. One minute I’ll be doing something, then the world starts to shake and change like I’m looking through melting glass. Then pop, I’m suddenly over there.” Her voice gets a bit quieter, and she mumbles softly, “It used to not be so bad, but lately it’s been happening more often and for longer periods of time.”

“All will be well.” I’ll make sure of it. “Alas, by all sense you are a witch, or in the very least, certainly not human.”

She makes a humming noise in her throat. “I never thought about being a witch, but it sounds nice, and of course, everything is great. I enjoy my life. I get to travel and meet a lot of people. Oh, jackpot! A rest area!” She points excitedly out the window at a sign on the road.

“I always figured if I get stuck there forever one day, like Gran, I will get to hang out with all my friends all the time. Oh, and now you too! Plus, see Gran again of course. What’s the food like? Do you have your own home, like Mip and his people? Their towns are far too small for me. As a witch, can I do magical spells for shrinkage?”

“Wait, please, ma’am, one query at a time.”

Suddenly the van starts bouncing, the road outside now made of white and gray stones. I try to hold the ceiling above me, prepared to grab Clover and jump out of this contraption if necessary. I release a long breath when it jerks squeakily to a stop.

She spins her whole chair sideways, facing me fully, her ocean eyes wide and eager. I… Uhm—Gods, she is stunning.

“Wait, did you say your grandmother was here? Well, not here, but in the realm I reside in?”

She nods. “Yup.”

“That’s not possible, I would have—” I pale, thinking back to all the fights with it and how it grew in strength instead of fading like it should have.

I grasp both her hands with mine. “You said all your family members have disappeared like that?”

She looks down at my hands, then back into my eyes. “Yes, well, mostly.”

A sharp sensation stabs my side, and I ignore it.

That’s how he’s been doing it. He’s been bloody feeding off the Calla witches for centuries! Everything so clear now; the way he gained power over the years, how he got stronger despite being apart from his source for so long, how I could never win the battle. I was doomed from the start, all those wasted centuries.

I see red, so mad at myself. I release her hands and stand quickly, wanting to fight him again even with my almost-depleted magic, only to smash my head into the ceiling.

“Bloody shite!” I curse, falling back to my seat, my hand going to my head.

Clover quickly grasps it. “Oh no! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I deserved it.” I sigh and stare at her soft pink lips curled into a concerned frown as she checks my head for injury. “I am all right. Really.” I hold her hips and guide her back into a seating position. “I am so sorry, Clover. If I had known they were coming over, I would have done all in my power to save them.”

Her brows furrow, and she pulls back slightly. “What do you mean?”

“There is this man… well, he was a sorcerer. Morfran. He is more of a thing now. A remnant or shadow of what he once was. He… it… well, I believe it fed off your ancestors for power. He was originally trapped over there with me and should have faded away, but he never did, and I could never determine the cause until now.”

She glances down at our clasped hands. “I see.”

I release her hands and grasp her face, gently lifting her to meet my eyes. “Hey, I will protect you. I know now. And though I might not look it in my current state, I assure you there is no one better in all the realms to do so. I will find a way to ensure it never touches you.”

The stabbing sensation in my side grows, and I look down. Her Mip friend hangs off of my clothes and pokes me in my side with a tiny stick.

She gives me a weak smile, “You know, when you jumped up, you didn’t fade right away that time.”

I look between her and Mip. Perhaps the pest can be useful.