The Unrivaled's Witch Page 6

  “I am not your buddy.” He said looking straight into Arthur’s eyes. Stay away from me and my cousin, man, whoever you are, otherwise, Unrivaled or not, I will kill you with my bare hands.” Saying that he strode away. Arthur thought it would not be the right time to point out to the young man that it was technically not possible for any man, wizard or human to kill an Unrivaled.

  When Arthur turned to a teary-eyed Rebecca, her lips trembled. She came to him and buried her face into the front of his scrubs.

  “I have to clean up love.” he said but did not push her away. Instead he caressed her hair with his fingers gently.

  “Your friends need you. You have to be brave for them.” He cooed to her and she nodded into his chest. Then pulled back slowly and looked up into his face.

  “I am so sorry.” She said and Arthur couldn’t figure out precisely what those tears streaming down her cheeks right now really meant.

  “I am going to be ok. Go take care of our friends.” He said motioning into the direction where they had taken Darcy and where Zack had followed.

  Rebecca nodded and stepped out of his embrace. She took Andrea’s hands into hers and squeezed.

  “Take care of him.” She said to her as the two girls nodded at each other, before Rebecca hurried off. As soon as she was gone Andrea threw herself at Arthur and he caught her tightly into his arms while she sobbed and he looked on into oblivion.

  “Let’s go home little one. We need to talk.”

  Outside as they approached Arthur’s car, Andrea grabbed the keys from him and walked forward.

  “You need to rest. I will drive.” She said and he smiled wistfully and shook his head.

  “What?” she said getting behind the wheel.

  “Nothing.” Arthur said still smiling as he got in on the other side.

  “Was this a regular thing with us? Me asking you for the car keys?”

  “All the time.” He said pulling the seat belt around himself.

  “Why are you wearing the seat belt. We are going two blocks down.” Andrea said disgustedly as she eased the vehicle out of the hospital parking lot.

  “That’s because you don’t know how you drive, Love. I do.”

  Andrea looked over at him then and her eyes swam.

  “You really are my brother.” She said.

  “Yeah,” he sighed. “Some people are born with that kind of luck.” He said adjusting his seat and leaning back in it as he closed his eyes. He didn’t open them even when he felt the hard elbow jab from his sister before she zoomed down the street like a manic driver that she was.

  Chapter 16

  The council of the Unrivaled met once in three months. The venue had to be well concealed equally from magical and non-magical eyes. Once the Grandmaster of the council decided the venue, he sent out the invitations. This time it was a small bread and breakfast in the teeming Quartier Latin district of Paris, near the Fontaine Saint Michel.

  As the cab came to a stop, Arthur frowned up at the old stone house that stood between a café and an antique store. He was in one of his dark moods. He had been reluctant to leave his friends and his sister alone to attend a meeting with these old farts.

  When Arthur and Andrea had come home from the hospital he had found the invitation on the kitchen table. How the council had managed to circumvent all the unbeatable spells he had put on his house and his top of the line security system, he had no clue. Suffice to say they weren’t called the Unrivaled for nothing. The only solace Arthur found in the whole matter was that there were only sixteen of them in the entire world excluding him. The lesser of them the better!

  Arthur paid the cabby, clutched a gloved hand around the handle of a small overnight suitcase and stepped out. The first thing that hit him was the November chill. It was cold, he had had a bumpy flight due to turbulence and had not been able to catch the nap he had anticipated. Given his current situation in life he thought he had a right to be as disgruntled as he pleased.

  Arthur knocked at the beaten up wooden door with a brass knocker and an old woman opened the door. In spite of all his fatigue he smiled and bent down to kiss the cold wrinkled cheeks of the woman.

  “Bonjour Noorine.” He said and got a warm smile. She was the wife of an Algerian Unrivaled, Abdulah Rizwan, Arthur’s sponsor and guide. Arthur had been the wizard’s apprentice during his one year of training after he was named an Unrivaled.

  “Welcome Arthur. You look beat.”

  “I am.” He said walking after the old woman as she led him into a room where a big fire burned.

  “What happened” She asked taking his bag, placing it on a side table, then helping him out of his coat.

  “Well let’s see, I was attacked by a dark wizard, I lost my amulet, got my friends into danger, got one of them mortally wounded, then failed in saving his life in the OT and finally was accused of his murder. So, take your pick.” Arthur said adjusting his tie as the old woman hung his coat then opened his bag and pulled out his cloak.

  “And I am not surprised that the responsibility of another wizard’s misdeeds, your friend’s wrong choices, I would say even the weather in Paris lies solely on your strong shoulders.” She said slipping the cloak over those same shoulders and patting them. She was a thin petite woman and she had to rise up on tiptoe to reach his shoulders. Arthur held her hands there and bent down to plant another kiss, this time lightly on her lips.

  “I love you.” He said looking at the little woman as she beamed up at him.”

  “Love you too prince.” She said then pushed him away. “You better be going. They are waiting.” She said holding a handful of his cloak and pulling him out of the room.

  “Where’s Abdullah?” Arthur asked as she pushed him along to the end of the corridor outside.

  “With the others. They are all here, except for you.”

  “I had to come from far. Plus I have a job, unlike most of them.” He said motioning disapprovingly at the door in front of them.

  “Just go now.” Noorine whispered. “And when you are done come back and tell me all about her.”

  “About whom?”

  “You know whom.” Noorine winked at him then threw the huge double door open and announced.

  “Arthur James McDonald. The Unrivaled from Montana.”

  Chapter 17

  The room was huge. The walls were lined with shelves full of old books and family paintings belonging to the owner of the establishment. He was himself an accomplished wizard but not an unraveled. He served as one of the bailiffs of the council. The council had a few hundred of those around the world, who did all their clerical work.

  The enormous paneled French windows that gave a view of the shadowy dark yard outside were hung with heavy red velvet curtains. The wooden floor was covered with plush Persian rugs and the furniture was all old oak and spoke of rich French heritage and old money.

  A fire blazed in the massive fireplace as the Unrivaled appreciated warmth. There was a huge horseshoe-shaped table in the middle of the room and the other Unrivaled were already seated with Harold Duncan at the head. He was thirteen hundred years old and the current grand master of the Unrivaled. He had been holding that post for more than five hundred years and none of the others present in the room had seen the tenure of another Grandmaster.

  There was a side table just near the fireplace, laden with soft looking slices of tea cakes, neatly cut sandwiches, flaky croissants and other pastries. Arthur eyed the arrangement and his stomach rumbled as the aroma of freshly baked bread and coffee entered his nostrils. Damn the French, why did they have to make such good coffee.

  But after careful thought, he simply walked to the horseshoe table and took the only empty chair at the bottom of the table, not wanting to give the already disgruntled Unrivaled wizards any more reason to be upset with him.

  “You are late, young man.” Abdullah said. He was sitting near the head, to the left of Harold. A position of honor. Arthur looked up and their eyes met. As always hi
s master looked back at him with a poker face. But his eyes twinkled with the usual pride and affection. Arthur knew that the admonishing comment had been more for the sake of the others than for him. It was expected of a master to criticize his apprentice if he had done wrong.

  “My flight was late.” Arthur said looking at Harold this time for he knew it was the old man who demanded the answers.

  “You don’t have to fly commercial.” Vikram Jawra, the Unrivaled from the Himalayas and Abdullah’s biggest critic countered.

  “Well I am not really a fan of broomsticks.” Arthur grumbled. His dark mood, that had been subdued by his meeting with Noorine and the warm fireplaces and the hope of getting some food, was returning.

  Harold who had been intently following the conversation rolled out a throaty laugh that sounded as if he had a chest infection, then he leaned forward and said to Arthur.

  “We hear that you have let your amulet be stolen young man. Is that true?” Arthur’s hand went to the base of his neck instinctively as he answered Harold.

  “Yes, Grand Master. It is true.”

  “It was a big slip up on your part. Would you care to explain how that came to be?”

  “I was with friends. We were attacked by a dark wizard. I had only one choice, sacrificing my friends’ lives and waging a full-fledged war against the said wizard or keeping my friends safe and letting go of the amulet for the time being. I chose the latter.”

  “An honorable choice.” Harold said steepling his fingers and leaning back in his chair. “But you realize that an unraveled cannot go for long without his amulet. It holds all his power.”

  “For now. I am in full control of my powers.” Arthur countered.

  “Yes yes. I am well aware of your capabilities. But do not forget that come the blood moon, with the right kind of magic those powers can be easily arrested.” Arthur looked into the fire and did not reply to Harold’s comments.

  “We also hear that you lost a friend.” Another Unrivaled said from Harold’s left. His name was Giorgio Vespucci. He was the tall, dark and handsome, seventy-five-year-old wizard from Florence. If Harold were to die in his lifetime, he was considered to be the sure and certain precursor to his position.

  Arthur turned to him not answering, gauging his reaction.

  “The council regrets your loss. May a friend’s soul rest in peace.” He said touching his chin to his chest and clutching at his amulet.

  “May the friend rest in peace.” The rest of the council echoed, replicating his gesture with the amulet.

  “Next time perhaps you will remember to call your brothers for help in time of crisis. You know they will always help you.” Harold said in a slightly admonishing tone.

  “You are an Unrivaled son.” Giorgio said quietly. “You are already a hero. But even heroes need help sometimes.” Arthur nodded sincerely this time.

  The council then went on to other issues from other countries and regions. Everyone including Arthur gave their opinions. After another hour’s discussion the council was ready for the oath. Every council meeting was concluded by the oath of the Unrivaled.

  Jean August de Torchière, the owner of the establishment and one of the Bailiffs of the council brought in a cauldron full of burning embers and placed it in the middle of the room. He was tall, aristocratic, and completely bald. He wore several bracelets and rings around his fingers and several amulets around his neck. Those were the unique accessories of the Bailiffs.

  He quickly pushed back the horseshoe-shaped table and it went back and lined itself against the back wall quite rapidly, changing its own shape into a single long table.

  “It is just good engineering not magic.” He said to a shocked Arthur and both smiled at each other with affinity.

  Then Jean August quietly stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him. Arthur turned back to the cauldron just in time to see Harold pull out a cloth bag from inside his Victorian looking coat. He delved into it and brought out some dry sticks. Then threw the sticks into the cauldron full of embers.

  Thick heady smoke emerged from the cinders and they glowed a darker and angrier red. All the council members gathered around it in a circle and stretched their left arms forward. Each of them, except Arthur had his amulet wrapped around the fingers and palm of their left hand, like rosaries. Arthur put out his hand without his amulet. The others looked up at him in concern.

  “You can be excused from the oath Son.” Harold offered kindly. The amulet protected the Unrivaled from the pain of the ritual. But sitting out an oath with the brethren was an act of disgrace. And Arthur would rather suffer the burning of the embers than desert his brethren.

  He joined them in the ancient chanting, stretching out his hand, the inside of the arm exposed and his fist touching the fists of the others. Every unraveled had a symbol of his amulet etched along the soft flesh of the inside of their arms like a tattoo. The smoke thickened around them and Harold, as was the custom, read from the ancient Book of The Unrivaled, while the others chanted from memory. As the chant grew louder and more intense the tattoos on the arms of the unraveled glowed like fire.

  Then each one of them bent down and picked a red glowing ember from the cauldron and placed it on their palms, the amulet still knotted around their fingers, and continued the chant. Unlike the others, Arthur did not have the amulet and the ember burned through his skin, but his hand and his voice were as steady as the others, as they continued the ritual.

  In the end, the tattoos on the arms of the men glowed like fire and they all dropped the cinders back into the cauldron. Arthur dropped his too, then slipped to the ground unconscious.

  Chapter 18

  It was already dark when Rebecca reached Arthur’s house. She rang the bell and the door opened at once. When she stepped in it felt cool and soothing. But Arthur was nowhere to be seen. She had not seen him for a week now. Not after that day in the ER right after Weylin’s death. He had not attended the funeral either and Andrea had told them that he had gone to Paris on personal business. Now Rebecca wondered if he was back yet.

  “Arthur!” she called. There was no answer. Rebecca tried to concentrate and determine where he might be with the help of his vibes and his breathing pattern, but she couldn’t get any. So, she concluded that he was not home and decided to go take a look at the herbarium that had so interested her the last time.

  When she climbed up to the first floor she was once again mesmerized. It was a nearly circular room, the staircase, the only thing breaking its integrity. The walls were complete glass and were covered mostly by one or the other creeper or vine of some kind. There were many trees, some came up to the level of her waist and some stood tall grazing the ceiling. Some butterflies and dragonflies flew from one tree to another.

  Rebecca stepped onto the landing and wondering where to start, decided to take a complete tour of the place. There were pretty little miniature ponds, hedges and groves. The was a grove where blueberries grew in abandon and Rebecca was tempted to pluck them. But she controlled herself. She didn’t want to do anything that would offend Arthur.

  On one of the miniature palm trees, there was a honeycomb and the bees were buzzing around it in harried diligence. Bumblebees and drones flew around in angry rumbles. Then Rebecca came to a small waterfall, that cascaded down from a miniature hill and wound its way through a small paddy field and she thought she was going to cry.

  The man had to a magician of the highest order to create such beauty in an area of not more than 3000 sq ft. She tiptoed along the cobbled path that she had followed since the beginning and came to an old oak tree. It was the tallest and widest tree in the whole place. And though it was miniature of the original one, it still was as beautiful and majestic.

  There was a sparse grassy patch on dry ground just under the tree. A small fire of wild logs sizzled nearby, nearly burnt out. But it still gave out enough warmth. Arthur lay under the tree deep asleep. His glasses were pushed over his forehead and his hands joined
over his chest over an old tattered book lying face down under them. He wore a plaid shirt and a pair of freshly starched jeans. He was bare feet, one long leg crossed over the other. His chest rose and fell steadily and even in his sleep the man exuded strength.

  Rebecca thought of turning back and going away, leaving him to his rare moments of rest, but she simply couldn’t take her eyes off of him and walking away. So, she sat down beside him and watched the sleeping man with quiet affection.

  Suddenly the surroundings melted around them and they were transferred to another time. They were once again in the cave, sitting around the fire, the heavy rain pelting outside.

  “Why do I need protecting from you Arturo? I feel the safest when I am with you.” She said. Her wet hair hung around her face, her eyes glowing with the reflection of the fire between them. Her clothes were dried, she had seen to that, by emanating her bodily warmth, but that kind of magic had its side effects. Her body was more sensitive and more aware now.

  “You are safe when you are with me Rebecca. There is nothing in this world that will ever get to you. It will always have to pass through me first. But me? What about me?”

  “What about you Arturo?” she asked and he knew that she understood exactly what he was saying. She was after all a woman now. But she was deliberately pushing him to confess.

  “I have feelings for you Rebecca. And I don’t know how to shield you from them.”

  “Perhaps I don’t need to be shielded from them. Have you ever thought that they are perhaps meant to be?” she asked her eyes questioning him guilelessly. Arturo hissed and made a moved and for a moment Rebecca thought he was going to touch her. He looked into her eyes and she felt as if he could reach down to her soul.

  Then he got up from his place in a quick livid movement and went and stood near the entrance of the cave, his back to her, looking out. The wrathful wind slapped at his clothes as they fluttered wildly and the frenzied rain struck him across the face.