(I've edited and rewritten "Two Sides Wiley Walker and Jezebel Jesse" and made it into one story called "Alruna".

17600 words)

_____------====== Chapter 1 ======------_____

--Wiley Walker--

A faded sign pointed to the Solandal Valley and Wiley turned off the highway and onto a narrow dirt road in great need of maintenance. His tired mind spun with tangled thoughts and worries about his brother Trent, who had been missing for over two months. The last he heard from him was a letter posted in early May, telling that he got a job as a farm-hand in Alruna and promising to call when he had settled in there. Why had he not called as promised? Sometimes he failed to call for a day or two, but he always called. A bump in the road pulled him out of his thoughts, he cursed and swerved to avoid a series of potholes in the road. Something must have happened since he had not heard from him in weeks.

He contacted the sheriff in Alruna after two weeks. She asked around and then she called to let him know that no one had seen his brother or offered him employment. It made no sense, Trent would not lie to him. Wiley decided to look for him during his holiday, though Anabelle protested at first, she had already planned their holiday. However, she also understood Wiley’s worry and let him go. Family has to look after family, no one else will.

He slowed down and zigzagged past another set of potholes. How could they leave the road like that? Anabelle was a good woman and he considered himself lucky for having her, but there were days when he envied his brother’s vagabonding lifestyle. For a couple of days he would taste freedom, while looking for Trent. His first holiday alone since the year he married Anabelle. The song in the tape player changed and he sang with Kris Kristofferson as he carefully drove down the cracked road.

Busted flat in Baton Rouge, headin' for the train,

Feelin' nearly faded as my jeans.

Bobby thumbed a diesel down, just before it rained;

Took us all the way to New Orleans.

I took my harpoon out of my dirty red bandanna,

And was blowing sad while Bobby sang the blues.

The narrow road winded into the Solandal Valley, and he stopped singing to focus on driving. The trees cast deep dark shadows on the road, creating pockets of cool air. Soft stripes of shelter from the hot gazing sun that never lasted long enough. He crossed a nearly dry creek and arrived at a crossroad. The paint had partially flaked off the old and withered road sign, but he could still read “..run.” on the part pointing west. It had to be Alruna. He turned west and followed the creek farther down into the valley.

The woods cleared a few kilometres down the road and gave place to fields bowing with crops baking in the heat. Scattered trees and groves created small and well-needed pools of shadow, but they were not large enough to protect the fields from drying out. The windmills that propelled the irrigation stood still, and it felt as if the whole world shivered and fainted from heatstroke. Nothing moves around the houses and barns that lay scattered among the fields. “No wonder,” he thought, “no one in his right mind would work in this heat.” The road turned through a grove and crossed the creek, and a road sign let him now he had arrived at Alruna.

--Jezebel Jesse--

Jezebel sat in the shadow by the pond, in a vain attempt to escape the heat. The drought sucked the life out of the land. Plants withered, all water evaporated and the air shimmered from the moist that it stole from all living things. The desperation of the living beings struggle to survive around her occupied her mind. Survival demanded hard work and the inactivity the doctor had forced on her frustrated her. Midlife crisis, he told her, and exhaustion syndrome. She refused to listen at first, nonsense excuses made up by the lazy to justify doing nothing. Hard work is the material that gives humans backbone and no one worked better than her. Lazy was the last thing anyone would call her.

Then the world started to crumble around her. Her workplace “reorganised” and threw out the old and efficient to give place for the young and beautiful. Competence was no longer a merit and she found herself unemployed for the first time in her life. The first thing she learned when staying at home all day was that her husband had lost his interest in her and that her daughters were like strangers. Dwelling in depression and the darkness of her mind, she wondered how she had become separated from her past, her roots and her true self. The gradual change had sneaked up on her, but now when her eyes were open she knew what to do. She had to be true to herself and her nature.

She let go of the painful thoughts and watched a toad stick its head out of the green murky water in the pond. The toad studied her and decided that she was not a threat. A beetle walked across a rock by the water, nervously picking with its legs, and the toad caught it with a quick flick of its tongue.

The countryside offered a better life. She belonged here, and her heart and soul knew it. Alruna and Villa Tiamat had proven to be the best place in the world for her to heal after losing her family and everything she had worked for. The roads, trees and rocks all knew her name and the wind sung her soothing lullabies to help her rest and sleep. The flowers bowed to her, and the animals never ran away. Paradise on earth, right here where she grew up and she planned to stay until the end of her days.

The sound of the life around her turned to a soft murmur. Smooth as the sound of the blood flowing in her veins, and the tranquillity helped her to get into a perfect state of mind. Her fingers found the stones in her pocket, she extended her mind to touch all living things in the world and be in harmony with the universe. Then she scrambled the stones and dropped them on the ground in front of her. She waited until she could feel that the ripples her movement caused had faded, opened her eyes and read the stones. The marks on the stones and where they landed on the ground would tell her what happened in her world.

“There will be no rain today or tomorrow,” she told the toad. “Talora needs to fix her hen house. The fox has almost dug his way in by now. And look at this…” She stopped to study the stones closer. “This is interesting, very interesting… a stranger is coming to town. A man. A seeker.”

She picked up the stones again, found harmony with the world and dropped them. This time putting all her energy and focus on the stranger before reading the stones. The toad slipped into the water when she drifted away in thought and said no more. She put the stones back in her pocket and walked away. She had much to do.

_____------====== Chapter 2 ======------_____

--Wiley Walker--

A cluster of old and weathered buildings scattered randomly close to the road formed the town Alruna. He drove slowly and read the signs on the buildings, he needed to find a grocery store or a restaurant and get something cool to drink. After that he had to find a bed-and breakfast where he could stay. A sign with faded red letters saying, “Appleman’s Deli” caught his attention, and he parked by the side of the road in front of it. Nothing moved, not even a dog. He walked to the deli, and through the open door. An electric fan buzzed, turned and spread wisps of cooler air and the scent of hay and tea around the room.

“Good evening,” a soft voice purred. “Terrible this heat, isn’t it?”

Wiley turned and looked at the woman. “Good evening ma’am. It has to be the worst in decades.”

“Indeed. The worst I’ve experienced in my life. Not that it means much…” The woman winked and giggled.

She seemed to be at least 70 years old, but he knew better than to ask. “Of course, you are still too young to have seen it all.”

She laughed and her eyes glimmered. “A gentleman! How refreshing. I’m Lawinia Appelman. How can I help you?”

“I’d like some cool water.” Wiley looked around. “Then I’m looking for a place to stay the night.”

“I have a refrigerator over here,” Lawinia purred and showed him the way to a corner. “It’s not as fancy as the ones in the modern supermarkets you find in the city, but it still does the job.”

She opened the door to the antiquated fridge and he browsed through the alternatives. There were water and sodas of brands he knew, and bottles seemingly filled with home-made ice tea. He picked one up and read the label.

“Mint tea.” Lawinia sneaked up by his side and pretended to brush a fly off his shoulder. “It helps you cool down in this terrible heat.”

Wiley put the bottle back and picked up a water bottle instead. “Maybe the next time, right now I want water.”

“Of course.” Lawinia smile. “But you should try it sometime, it truly works. And so does my other teas. See this? I’ve got cures for most things that ail mankind.” She pointed to the jars filled with different teas that filled one wall of the deli. “Maybe something for your wife?” She took his left hand and touched his wedding ring for a brief moment. “I have a wonderful raspberry leaf and green tea mix for women who want to get pregnant.”

“Uh… Anabelle has her hands full with the girls. One more baby is the last thing on her mind right now.” Wiley felt uncomfortable with it all, he had not come there to buy some strange tea.

“Girls you say…” Lawinia walked over to the counter. “How wonderful, you must be so happy. How old are they?”

“They are five, three and then there’s the baby that’s 11 months,” he told her and his heart swelled with pride. He was such a lucky man, and he had a wonderful family. He picked up his wallet to pay for the water bottle and remembered the photo he had of the girls. “Here, this photo is from last month.”

“Oh how pretty they are,” Lawenia purred. “Oh how wonderful. You are truly a blessed man. No need to pay for the water, just remember me if there is anything you need.”

“I have to pay. I insist. But I need directions to a bed-and breakfast.”

“Of course. Rowena Birchman has a room for rent. I wouldn’t go there if I were you. It’s her cats you see. They are everywhere and the room, as well as her house, smells… unpleasant. If you know what I mean.” She winked at Wiley and he nodded back. “My daughter has a guest house that’s clean and cat free. She lives outside of town though…”

“Cat free sounds good to me. Are you sure that she wants to rent it out? I don’t know how long I’ll be staying.”

“No worries, no worries, the house stands empty. I’ll call Bethiah and let her know that you are on your way.”

--Jezebel Jesse--

Jezebel walked across the yard and into the grove, there she zigzagged between the old cars and machines that lay scattered on almost every open space. The Fordson Major looked lonely, as if it needed someone to talk to; she patted him a little and promised that she would be back later. Two fox cubs peeked out from underneath a moss green Opel Record without doors, and she could not resist the temptation to jump towards them and pretend that she was going to catch them. The cubs squeaked and backed away from her whiles giggling in a fox kind of way. “Kids will be kids,” she thought and smiled at them.

Her potato field drooped and the dirt turned into a thick dirt coloured cloud when she walked across it. She carried water to it every evening, and it was still dry as dust. After crossing the field she made her way through a thicket patch and arrived at her destination, the pole. Radio waves did not work in the valley and all communication had to go through the phone wires. Her pole connected them all and allowed her to listen in to all phone calls done in the valley. A convenient tool to use since the people in the valley would tell her lies.

She did not have to wait long for the first call. Dinora Berthelot called Rowena Birchman to let her know that an unknown car headed for town, a possible night guest perhaps? Jezebel hoped the poor soul, whoever he was, stayed away from Rowena and her cats. Not even cat lovers could handle the complete disaster Rowena’s pets were.

A field mouse stopped by her feet and sniffed the air. Jezebel took a fresh green leaf, turned it into a low cup filled with water and watched the mouse drink the water and eat the leaf.

“Do me a favour,” she told the mouse and spread and even layer of loose dirt on the ground. “Dance before you go please.”

The mouse bowed, danced a few steps and ran into the thicket. Jezebel leant forward to read the prints the tiny feet and tail had made in the dirt. Lawinia Appelman would make the next call according to the reading, and Jezebel painted a picture of the hag in her mind. She would be purring and fishing for compliments as well as information, and she would try to give the stranger gifts, with no shame in her old body. Not that old hags like Lawenia ever saw their own age in a realistic light. Perhaps a blessing given to those of high age, oblivion saved them from seeing the decay that degraded their old bodies. Maybe she also suffered from the same blinding oblivion without realising it.

The wire buzzed and Lawenia’s exited voice started chattering as she told her daughter all about the man she had sent to her. The man, she let her daughter know, was a healthy specimen and a father of daughters. He wanted to rent the guest house for more than one night, and that would give them time to… The words faded. The words they never dared speak out loud, just in case someone heard them. Jezebel grinned at the thought. They were such fools. She could hear them, and she could read between the lines. Bethiah would try to catch the man’s interest as best as she could. That thought amused her too, Bethia was far from sensual and seductive. Clown meets piranha would be a better description.

_____------====== Chapter 3 ======------_____

--Wiley Walker--

Wiley drove out of the village and followed the directions that Lawinia gave him, and one kilometre down the road he found her daughter’s house. He parked his car in the shade of a tree and walked up to the door. The front door flew open and a middle-aged woman sashayed out to greet him. Her appearance surprised him, she dressed in a way that seemed more suiting for a cheap bar than a farm. Her black hair formed and elegant knot, the red dress squeezed her ample curves and her face showed signs of a hasty and ill suiting make-up.

“You must be Mr Walker,” she purred in the same manner as her mother. “I’m miss Bethiah Appelman. No husband here.” She giggled, winked and showed the empty ring finger on her left hand. “This way.”

She walked in front of him to show the way, and he could not help looking at her curves and legs. Her flirting had flattered him. Not that he would ever cheat on his wife, but it felt uplifting to know he still attracted women. The guest house left him nothing to wish for, it had a comfortable bed, a kitchenette and a fridge and a shower.

“Tell me Mr Walker.” Bethiah leant against the wall and puckered her lips. “What brings you to our quiet corner of the world?”

“My brother. He’s working somewhere around here. I figured I’d go and visit him during my holiday. I don’t get to see him that often.” The words felt true. Trent might be fine.

“Here? I doubt it. There are not jobs here. That’s why the men left. They had to go to the city to find jobs.” Bethiah played with a strand of hair that escaped the knot and looked at him with deep dark eyes. “Men are rare around here…” She left the words hanging for a moment, and then she continued with new-found enthusiasm, “I can be wrong of course. I don’t know it all. There are many small farms looking for extra manpower to help with the crops. Feel free to stay here as long as you wish.” She walked up to him, touched his hair gently and drew lines down his neck with her fingertips. “I’ll be right here at home if you need something. Just come on over.” She blew him a kiss and walked out. “Anything.” She added over her shoulder, and left.

Wiley took a deep breath and sighed, Anabelle would not be happy if she found out what type of woman Bethiah Appelman was. He would turn all her offers down, of course. His wife and girls were his life, and he would never do anything that put him at risk of losing them. He stuck the photo of the girls to a frame on the nightstand, perhaps it would give Bethiah a subtle hint to leave him alone. There were thick old trees growing all around the houses, and he was thankful for the shade they gave. Even the evening sun had the power to make him gasp for air and wish for winter. He walked around the guest house to stretch his legs and think for a while. The picturesque guest house was a beautiful place to stay in and he decided to stay there, even though Bethiah’s flirting worried him. Better her flirting than a bunch of stinking cats though.

He found a path that led to a lush clearing with thick green moss on the ground. The contrast to the dry surroundings made him gasp and the cool air underneath the trees refreshed his spirit. Thick green plants with purple flowers bloomed, birds chirped and the worries of the outside world faded.

--Jezebel Jesse--

The man… she felt him, and he showed no interest in Bethiah. How curious, what could make him resist her crude but potent tricks? Jezebel spread her wings and threw herself out into the air. The heat ruffled her feathers a little, but she soon found her balance and flew to the grove by Bethiah’s guest house. She thought it best to stay hidden, and she flew in low among the trees and landed in the shadow of a willow. The cold air from the shadows slowly carried his scent to her, so manly. Hidden in the shadows she studied him. Average looking, shorter than she hoped for and far too skinny, but still a good catch. He walked back and forth in a moss covered clearing where two plants with thick green leaves and purple flowers grew. She almost gave herself away when she realised that he had found Bethiah’s secret stash of expensive and forbidden fruits. Things were getting better and better, and she grinned with joy.

She followed him and watched him get into his car. For a moment she hesitated, should she follow him or stay snoop around. The thought of revealing Bethiah’s secrets tempted her more and her attention turned to the guest house. The locked windows and doors kept her out and she could not gather any information from peeking through the windows. Annoyed she decided to pester Bethia instead, it would be amusing to watch her squirm and lie to keep her secrets. Vitalised she walked up to the main house and knocked on the door.

“Come right in,” Bethiah purred.

It was the first time Jezebel had been invited to the house and she studied the inside with great interest.

“I’m in the lounge.”

The scent of incense and sage filled the air, amulets cluttered the walls and green candles burnt in every corner. Bethiah left nothing to chance it seemed. Jezebel touched the amulets and candles as she passed them, subtly changing the magic in them.

“Don’t be shy. I’m right here.”

“I’m not shy. Just curious. What’s the occasion?”

Bethiah grasped and jumped up to her feet. “You!”

Jezebel touched and amulet. “I don’t want to break your heart, but you’re not my type.” She studied her reflection in a magic mirror and was sickened by what she saw. No wrinkles or warts, white teeth and golden locks in her hair.

“Don’t touch that!” Bethiah growled. “I’m waiting for someone else.” She realised she had said too much and covered it up with a lie. “Avigael owes me. She’s sending me one of her minions for entertainment.”

“How generous. She must owe you greatly.” She touched a box on a shelf.

“Don’t touch that!” Bethiah stepped between Jezebel and the shelf. “Why are you here?”

“I need to buy mandrake roots. Got any?” She kept on touching things as she moved through the room.

“No!” Bethiah took a goblet from her and put it back. “No. The laws… you know I’m not allowed to grow mandrake.”

“Oh, of course…”

“I have fly agaric grown under silver birch. It can be used as a substitute, depending on what you’re making.”

“Lunar Liberate Libation.” She turned a vase. “The full moon is almost here. Fly agaric won’t do.”

“Rowena might have some. You should hurry though, someone else might buy it.” Hope shimmered in her eyes, there was a chance that Jezebel would leave.

“I’ll do so. Bye.”

Bethiah’s cowardliness had made the meeting less entertaining that she had hoped for and she was happy to leave. The mandrake roots in the grove interested her more. Bethiah denied owning them and she could claim them as her own.

_____------====== Chapter 4 ======------_____

--Wiley Walker--

The restaurant in town had been closed for years and Wiley went to the deli to buy food. Lawinia was thrilled to hear that he had decided to stay in her daughter’s guest house, and she insisted on giving him some of her home-made tea. He thanked her, took the package, but insisted on paying for it. The old woman needed the money, by the looks of the deli. The tea would go straight into the trash, he could not even guess what strange weeds she put in it. Lawinia knew nothing about his brother or any farm that might have hired him either, but she gave him directions to a few farms in the area where he could ask around. One of the farms lay close to Bethiah’s farm and he went there on his way back.

A young voluptuous woman opened the door when he knocked. She flirted as she told him that his brother had not been there, and that she would hire him instead if he was interested. Every word, every move she mad dripped with refined sensuality and suggestive eroticism, and he moved gradually backwards towards the car as they talked. The sunlight shimmered like stars in her dark hair when she followed him with catlike moves, closer and closer. He opened the car door and she grabbed it and held it open.

“You don’t have to go,” she said with a sensual voice. “I’ll make you dinner and fill all of your appetites.”

“No thank you,” he said as politely and determinedly as he could. “I’m a married man.”

“She would never know,” the woman whispered and reached for him. “What happens here stays here. It would only be between you, me and the stars.”

“No!” He started the car and pulled the door.

“I’ll be right here if you change your mind!” the woman cried as he drove away.

His heart pounded and he stepped on the gas, what was wrong with the women in this town? The lack of men did not explain the women’s behaviour. A figure suddenly stepped out in front of the car and he hit the break.

“Are you out of you mind!” he yelled and shook his fist at the ragged man.

“Leave now!” the man whimpered. “Leave before it’s too late!” He shied away for a brief moment while listening to the sounds from the field. “Go! Don’t come back!” His eyes shone with terror, the mouth shivered and the hands shook.

“Why? Can I help you?”

“Go!” the man squeaked. “Save yourself and leave now! Go!” He turned and ran toward the farm that Wiley had left.

Wiley wondered what had just happened. Why did the man tell him to leave? Should he try to find the man or keep on driving? Was the man crazy? He decided to keep on going and drove back to the guest house.

A shower made him feel like a new man, and the eerie feeling his encounter with the ragged man had left him with faded away. He stirred up the best macaroni and cheese he had ever tasted and washed it down with a cold beer. After a long, tiring day he looked forward to a good night’s sleep with the air conditioning on. There would be a new and better day in the morning. However, the desperate women and the strange man had left a trace in his mind, and he made sure to lock the door and the windows before going to bed.

--Jezebel Jesse--

Growing mandrake roots took skills and patience, something Bethiah lacked. The poor roots stood in tight pots dug into the ground, leaving them no space to grow. A safety precaution of course, the roots would kill anyone who did not know how to handle them properly. Still it would kill the young mandrakes after a year or two.

“Don’t worry darlings,” she whispered to them as she removed the pots from the ground. “You’re going to a better place.” The roots whimpered and she hushed them. “It’s alright. We’ll teach that naughty hag a lesson.”

She stuck her hands in the ground and connected herself with the essence of life. Slowly the dirt filled the holes and took the shape of the small pots. Plants, very similar to the mandrakes, filled the pots and their buds bloomed and turned into small orange fruits within seconds. Perfect copies of the real plants, but with one small difference, the hands of anyone who tried to pick them would turn purple.

“Hold on. It’s time to fly home.” She spread her wings and flew below the treetops across the valley back home. The garden was too dry for the valuable roots and she got larger pots to plant them in. “It’s only for your own safety. I’ll give you a good home with plenty of space to grow in when the drought is over.” The roots settled and she went to brew them a chase-devil, balm and hop tea. Cute as they were, they were also lethal killers. She went to her root cellar while the leaves soaked and got bat milk and Devil’s tooth to mix with it, then she poured a dash of the tepid tea into each pot and waited.

The idea to use a cat or a dog to pull the mandrake roots out of the ground is nonsense superstitions spread to fool the unwitting. The roots started to hum, and she tapped the pots gently. A tiny snicker told her that they were ready. One by one she removed them from the small pots, tickled them, tied a strand of her hair around their feet and put them in the larger pots. They giggled and dug themselves down into the new soil and fluffed their leaf crowns before they fell asleep. The important thing when dealing with mandrakes is to keep them sluggish and happy. She carried the pots up to the top floor of her house and put them in places where they would get much sunlight.

The small pots were littered with Bethiah’s crude magic and she brought them to the rubbish heap at the edge of her property and buried them there. Crude but potent magic, she could feel it disturbing the balance and digging its roots into the soil. She cut rowan branches, stuck them in the ground around the pots and drew runes between them. The branches quivered when she sent her energy through the runes, then they bowed towards the pots and bloomed.

Tired from a long hot day she ignored the signs that told her that the hags were on the prowl. The dimwits still chased their tails and would not cause her any problems yet. As an afterthought, she drew a protective circle around her house and set an alarm. The hags might get dangerous ideas when they were hunting in packs. Better safe than sorry. Back in her house locked the door, got a large bowl of gazpacho from the fridge and took it to her bed. The buzzing fan blew the hot, humid air across the room, but did nothing to cool her down and she gave it a magic puff to help with the cooling.

_____------====== Chapter 5 ======------_____

--Wiley Walker--

The next day was just as hot, but he did not let that stop him from looking for his brother. He visited every farm that he passed on the way. At every farm, he found a woman answering his call, and they were all flirtatious and inviting, but none of them had seen his brother. Every time he asked about the men he got the answer that they had left to work in the city. They said the men still living in the town worked ‘out there’ somewhere, but he never saw any men on the farms or fields. As the day rolled on it started to disturb him. Where did the men work, and why did the women act as they did?

He parked by the creek and walked in the shade. It felt as if he banged his head against the wall, and every step he took forward pushed him back to the beginning again. The thin ripple of water in the creek gathered in a tiny pool, and he went there to wet his hands and face to cool off and wash away the frustration clinging to his skin.

“You won’t get much out of them women,” said a deep voice. “The sisterhood keeps their secrets.”

Wiley spun around to see where the voice came from and found a black man sitting in the shadow of a tree. He seemed as old and wrinkled as the tree trunk, his hair grey as ashes and eye dark as coal. The stains on his black suit made him blend in even more.

“You’re not the first who come looking. Nor the last.”

“You know what’s happened to my brother? You know where he is?”

The man laughed a deep hollow laugh. “Know and know… one can only guess. But, a guess can be more than a guess of course.”

“How can I find him?” Wiley walked closer to the man.

“Have a seat son, and tell me about your brother.” The old man pointed to a root next to him.

Uncertain about what to say Wiley started talking about his brother in general, telling what he looked like, how old he was and what he said in his last letter. The old man listened in silence, and the silence continued when Wiley stopped talking.

“Sir,” he said when he got tired of waiting for the man to speak. “I need to know how to find my brother.”

“You shouldn’t go looking for him. The full moon is here soon. You should leave while you can.” The old man looked at him with sad eyes.

“I can’t leave without seeing him first,” Wiley replied with determination.

“You won’t find the man you knew. You won’t find what you seek, and, you risk your own soul if you stay,” the man said with a low voice. “You should leave now and never come back.”

“I’ve heard that before.” Wiley thought of the crazy man.

“You’ve heard it because it’s true.”

“I can’t leave. I have to find him. I have to find out what’s going on.”

“I understand. I’ll tell what can be told.” He picked up a black hat and put it on his head. “But not here son. Not here. Something is creeping in the fields. We better move.”

--Jezebel Jesse--

The whole valley stirred, brewed, plotted and schemed. Every witch wanted the man, and they cooked potions and made charms in a frantic flurry. They also worked hard at keeping the news about the man from Jezebel. The sixth daughter of the sixth daughter as well as the mother of five daughters, one more daughter and her powers would grow to a point not seen in centuries. They feared and hated her because of that and because of her inherited rights. The laws always worked in her favour. By law she got the best ingredients, the most powerful spells and had the right to pick any man she wanted. The other witches did not want to share with her, and they feared the supreme powers she would get if she birthed a sixth daughter.

The other witches had never been on her mind before. The loss of her family and her job had killed her appetite for life. Until now. The man was a father of daughters, and his strong quality aura resisted the lesser witches, a man truly worthy of her time and effort. Fishing for his attention would be an amusing game to play, and she spent the early morning hours preparing while the other witches sniffed around the locked guest house where he slept. The ancient and rather old-fashioned laws limited the actions she and the witches could take. It was not as easy as filling him with an oblivion potion and making him do what they wanted.

The law clearly states that they can charm, mildly drug and draw his attention. Once they got his attention they had to set him free, and wait for him to come back to them out of free will. He also had to give them either a physical gift or a sworn promise. If they wanted to use him as a man of course, the minions did not need that consideration, since they should break, crumble, bow and obey. Jezebel cared little for minions for that reason. They were dumb, frail creatures unable of puzzling two thoughts together, toys for lesser witches, things to amuse and entertain those with no real power, nothing more.

Time had come to act, time to let the other witches know that she knew their little secret. She found him visiting farm after farm in the search of something. What he sought remained a mystery to her, since she never got close enough to hear what he said to the witches he met. At noon he stopped and went for a walk by the creek, whiles leaving the car unlocked. The lesser witches crawled in the shadows around him, but she ignored them and walked up to his car. She made sure that he did not see her and opened the passenger door to sniff around. The car carried the scent of his family, a tired, stressed wife, young tender girls and raspberry sweets. The letters in the glove compartment were addressed to Mr Wiley Walker, and he lived in a city 300 kilometres away. He had come a long way to find what he looked for.

One of his shirts lay on the passenger seat and she sniffed it, manly, fertile and tired. A man stuck in a rut, enthralled by daily life, routines and habits, but there was a tiny rebel within him. She smiles as she pictured a tiny Marlon Brando trying to break through Mr Walker’s ribcage. An empty bag of raspberry sweets lay between the seats, together with an almost empty water bottle. She put a clear potion in the bottle and shook it. The taste would be different, but stale water never tasted good.

_____------====== Chapter 6 ======------_____

--Wiley Walker--

Wiley gave the old man an arm to lean on, and then they walked farther into the shadows of the grove. The shivering heat of the fields faded. The air became cool and refreshing, and the light dimmed into the light of a star covered night. All sounds dulled, and Wiley felt as if he left the world behind when he walked by the old man’s side. The man stopped by an old tree with a small bench by it, and Wiley helped him take a seat before he sat on the ground by his feet.

“What do you know about witches, son?” the old man asked silently.

“Uh… they were women practising traditional medicine that the Inquisition burnt on the stake. Most of what I know comes from TV series and movies.”

“Then you know nothing.” The old man shook his head. “It’s true. Some were innocent, but only because they died instead of real witches. And, witches don’t fly on brooms or cook frog warts in black cauldrons either.” He stopped talking, picked up a hip flask, emptied it and looked around warily. “The sixth daughter of the sixth daughter, she is here. Evil is her doings, foul are her intentions. She is looking for a mate, a man…” He stopped to listen to something that only he could hear. “Her sisters are here too, sweeter are their appearances less corrupted are their deeds, still they are all hellhounds set to eat your soul.” He stopped to stare into the dark.

“Witches?” Wiley whispered in disbelief.

“Lux Lucis Sanctimonalis,” the man muttered. “Light sisters, serving the light-bearer, Lucifer. You know of him don’t you?”

Wiley nodded since he was not sure what to believe or say.

“I’m too old for them to take any interest in me and too clever for them to catch me. I walk free where all other men find their doom.” He stopped to listen to the trees.

“Are you saying that they murder men?” Wiley grasped.

“Oh no son, it’s much worse, much worse,” the old man whispered. “They enslave them and keep their wretched souls in everlasting torment, destroying their minds and their bodies. What’s left once they are done is nothing but bastardised ravaged shadows of what once was. You must leave. You will not find your brother. There is no hope for what he once was. However, there is hope for you. You can still get away.”

“I have to save him! Don’t you understand? He’s my brother. If this is true, then I have to save him!”

“There is no saving him son,” the old man hissed. “The witches will never let you get to him; they will never let him go. If he could tell you one thing, he would tell you to save yourself. I assure you of that son. I assure you of that.”

“I don’t believe you!” Wiley got up on his feet and started pacing back and forth. “I don’t know what’s happening here, but I have to find my brother and save him. I have to bring him home.”

“I don’t have to power to stop you son. I don’t have the power to convince you that I tell the truth. You are a free man son, but remember this; the full moon is here soon, and they will hunt for fresh blood then, your blood. Mark my words, they will come for you. Whatever you do, don’t call for them, don’t follow them, don’t go to them willingly, never accept gifts from them and never give them gifts either, not even a promise!”

“This is nonsense! Witches are not real,” Wiley muttered loudly.

The old man was senile and he had wasted his time listening to all that drivel. He should have known better. All the men left in the area were mad men and senile fools. The women, desperate as they were, were no evil servants of Satan; they were simply lonely women.

--Jezebel Jesse--

Mr Walker went further into the grove and she walked around the car and studied it. A Volvo V70, a reliable family car, a bit worn down but still well kept. What she found under the hood did not disappoint her either, sturdy and efficient, just as a family car should be. The car would fit in her collection, right by the Lada Kalina where she housed the vipers. A few adjustments and bugs and worms would move in and become a convenient snack bar for the viper hatchlings.

A hissing sound pulled her out of her thoughts. The witches moved in the shadows and she realised that they had turned their attention to her. No more time for daydreaming, she had to prepare for the next step in getting his attention, and for that she needed a car. First she secretly cast a small spell under the hood and closed it, and then she walked over to the shadows.

“The heat really gets on my nerves. How about you?” She looked straight at Huetta LaVelle that tried to pass herself off as a rock.

“Uh… eh…” Huetta huffed as she took her normal shape back.

“Interesting car, isn’t it?” Jez continued. “I’m thinking about adding it to my collection. I just need to figure out how to get it home. It’s so annoying when the sheriff drops by to have a look. Not that you have that kind of problem…”

“No, eh…” Huetta giggled nervously. “But I do have a car that might interest you. Uh… eh, it’s blue.”

“Yes?”

“Well, I don’t know much about cars, but it looks nice. You can come over and have a look at it if you wish.”

Jez thought about it, a blue car of unknown origin, perhaps a treasure to keep.

“I’m busy right now, but I’ll drop by later this evening to check it out,” she let the other witch know. “I have to get going. I’ll see you later.”

She spread her wings and bolted into the air, crowing and laughing. What a wonderful day! The thrill of fishing for a stranger, the possibility of getting his car too, and now Huetta offered her another car. The generous offer must have a catch, she would not simply give the car to Jezebel without a hidden motive. However, it might be as simple as her trying to distract Jezebel from the real catch, Mr Walker. She flew in a wide circle to see if she could find him, and to see how many witches hunted him. He was out of her sight, but she could see several lesser witches making crude attempts for disguises. Numbskulls! Even a blind witch could find them.

She went back home to make ice tea and add her grandmother’s special ingredient. Mr Walker would be drinking it before the end of the day, if things went her way. She needed to change her appearance too, into something that would make him feel more comfortable. The other witched had tried erotic creams and prostitute like outfits, but she would not go that way. Her idea was to make him feel safe and relaxed rather than hunted and intimidated. She would be lanky, mannish and indifferent rather than curvy, feminine and interested. After three changes she settled for a body the same height as Mr Walker, a bit skinnier and with long hair. The changes were time-consuming and her body should not attract him, only make him remember her.

She hurried out to pick a car, her beloved midnight blue Dodge Dakota, and drove back towards the place where she had last seen Mr Walker. She needed to be close by when he drank the spiked water to set off the spell before he lost control of the car.

_____------====== Chapter 7 ======------_____

--Wiley Walker--

The sun had moved, and shade where he had parked the car was gone. Cursing himself for wasting time, he took the hot wheel and turned back up the road again. He thought something moved in the shadows, but there was nothing there when he took a closer look, and he contributed it all to the ghosts the old man had painted in his mind. The last water in his bottle was warm, stale and did not wet his mouth long enough to make a difference. “I know that one water bottle is too little in this heat,” he thought. He threw the bottle out the window, irritated over the time he had wasted and the lack of water.

The village and the deli were at least ten kilometres behind him. Thoughts and worries spun around in his head, women’s voices, creeping shadows, the old man’s words about witches and enthralled tormented men… and his brother. His brother was an experienced man who had travelled high and low for many years of his life; he would know how to take care of himself… would he not?

The car coughed and pulled him out of his thoughts. It made another strange sound and slowed down.

“No!” he shouted and banged the wheel with his hands. “No! No! No!”

The car did not listen; it rolled a couple of metres and came to a full stop. He opened the hood. It was a pointless effort of course; he knew nothing about cars and engines. Grunting and cursing he poked a bit here and a bit there, then he tried to start the car again. Nothing happened. Frustrated and furious he jumped up and down in his seat, throwing out every curse he had ever known, and a few he made up then and there, but the car would not start.

He got out of the car and looked up and down the road whiles trying to figure out what way to go. Back the way he had come or onwards? Then he decided to wait and hitch a ride with the next car to pass. He turned around to find the nearest shadow, but all he could see where the fields baking in the heat. Then he heard a sound, high-pitched, chirping… laughing. The world was swirling, and he thought he saw rows of sharp teeth in the shadow by the feet of the crops.

“Damn you!” he shouted. “Damn you! You don’t exist!”

The rows of teeth faded and the laughter turned into crickets playing, and he laughed madly while falling to his knees.

“You’re not real,” he laughed. “You’re not real.”

“I am real,” a woman’s voice told him. “I assure you that Mr, and that you seem to be suffering from heatstroke.”

He crawled around on his knees and found the feet of a person.

“Come here, out of the sun. I’ll give you something to drink.”

He looked up and saw a lanky woman in man’s clothes reaching her hand out to him. She looked unreal somehow, and he was not sure that he could take her hand.

“This is not the time or place for pondering,” she told him, and then she pulled him up on his feet. “Come here, I’ve got air conditioning and a water bottle in my car.”

He staggered around like a drunken person, and she more or less carried him to the car, put him in it and forced him to drink the water. The cool air caressed his skin, and he could see Anabelle and the girls playing in the waves by the beach that he lay on. The wind played in Anabelle’s hair and she kept pushing it out of her eyes. He reached out to help her, to kiss her and to let her know how much he loved her.

“Sorry Mr,” said a rasp woman’s voice, “I don’t kiss strangers.”

He looked up and saw the lanky woman and the inside of her car. “Heatstroke,” he thought. “It was a hallucination.”

--Jezebel Jesse--

She held the water bottle in front of him and he took it. The witches hiding in the field hissed and growled, and Jezebel decided to remind them of their place in the order of the world. A gentle tap on Mr Walker’s head made him fall asleep and be unaware of the world around him.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?” She went straight toward a lesser witch named Tzeruya. “Perhaps deception is a habit.”

Tzeruya hissed and threw a dagger at her. She stopped it mid-air and turned it with a slight flick of her hand. Then she cast a spell, wriggled her fingers, and a bundle of roots grew out of the ground and up around Tzeruya’s feet.

“Such disrespect.” Jezebel shook her head. “I’ve failed to assure that you all know your place. My fault. I promise I’ll make up for it.”

The roots shot vines that climbed Tzeruya’s body, tightening its net around her as she struggled, until it covered her. She cried out in pain as the vines grew thorns that dug into her flesh.

“That I show no interest in you,” she told the witches cowering around her, “is not a sign of weakness. Not being interested in worms is not a weakness either. You are simply too insignificant to me. Until now. Now, you have my full attention.”

The vines covered Tzeruya’s face and filled her mouth and nose. Blood flowing from her broken skin painted the vines, roots and the ground red. An eerie silence spread when Tzeruya silenced, and stopped moving. The vines and thorns turned into an impenetrable mesh and green leaves started to appear.

“I see you now. I know you can’t be trusted. I will deal with you all, if you don’t stay away from me and out of my business.”

Flower buds appeared among the leaves, and then they opened and turned into drop shaped blood-red flowers. Jezebel locked Mr Walker’s car, cast a protective spell on it, and went back to wake him up and move on.

_____------====== Chapter 8 ======------_____

--Wiley Walker--

“I’ve locked your car,” she told him. “It’s safe to leave here. I’ll take you back to my place to cool you down. I warn you though, no funky business. I’m a fully trained master in the noble art of cruch-yo-nuts and I will use it.”

Wiley’s vision was all a blur. “No funky business.” He let her know.

“Good,” she laughed. “I’m Jezebel Jesse, by the way. People call me Jez.”

“Wiley,” he replied.

“You shouldn’t be travelling this heat without water Wiley. You’re lucky I found you. The heat might as well have killed you.”

He nodded in reply and tried to focus on the road to see where she was taking him.

“There was a black old man…” he slurred, “talking about witches.”

She laughed cheerfully, “You seem to have had the trip of your life! Any flying houses? How about a yellow brick road and a scarecrow?”

He shook his head, trying to figure out what was real and what was just in his mind, and Jezebel started singing.

Ding Dong! The Witch is dead. Which old Witch? The Wicked Witch!

Ding Dong! The Wicked Witch is dead.

Wake up - sleepy head, rub your eyes, get out of bed.

Wake up, the Wicked Witch is dead.

The car slowed and turned down a dirt road.

“We’re almost at my place now. How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he said and felt a banging headache start as he said it.

“Good, I’m not much of a nurse.”

She parked and got out to help him. He felt as if he was steadier on his feet as he leant on her, followed her up the few steps onto her front porch, and had a seat in a comfortable chair.

“You just wait there and I’ll get you something to drink,” she told him and went into the house.

He looked around; the house lay in a shadowy grove. Garages, small buildings, cars, tractors, harvesters and other machines lay scattered under the trees. There were eyes in the shadows, keeping a watching eye on him, swaying and moving, but he knew that they were not real, they were simply hallucinations created by his overheated mind.

“Here you go,” she said when she got back. “The best ice tea you can get hold of in this county.”

He turned and looked at her as she poured him ice tea from a big jug, then he took the glass and drank it all.

“Easy,” she laughed. “Don’t drink it too fast; it will make you feel sick.”

She filled his glass again, and then she filled a smaller glass for herself. His stomach revolted and turned into a knot and sweat dripped down his back, but he was too proud to let her know that she was right.

“It’s good,” he let her know and sipped some more from the glass.

“I told you so.” She smiled at him, as if she could see through his deception.

They sat in silence, looking at the flickering shadows that danced underneath the trees. She seemed to see nothing strange among them, so he assumed that it was all in his mind. The ice tea did him well. He could feel how he became cooler and how he started to function properly again. The old man was just in his lively imagination, and he pictured how he and Trent would laugh about the silliness of it all one day soon. Anabelle would never hear a word about it. She would not find it amusing. Sweet, wonderful Anabelle. His heart ached as he thought about her, the most perfect woman that had ever walked this earth.

“Who is she?” Jez asked.

He looked at her with surprise. “How did you know that I thought of a woman?”

She laughed. “You’ve faced death, black old men and witches. Most men think of their loved ones, the things they know to be true, when they face such situations.”

“Anabelle,” he told her. “My wife.”

“You better go back to thinking about her then. Reality will be here soon enough.”

Then they sat in silence again, resting from the heat and the dusty day.

--Jezebel Jesse--

She saw glimpses of the lesser witches in the shadows, and she studied them while she waited for Mr Walker to come back to his senses again. They brazenly moved closer, her power demonstration earlier had clearly not scared them enough.

Wiley broke the silence. “This is the best ice tea I’ve ever had.”

“It’s my grandmother’s recipe. I’m the only one who knows it nowadays.”

“You should patent it. It would be a great success and you’d become rich.”

She laughed. “I don’t care for riches. Otherwise I’d stayed in the city.”

“You’re from the city?”

“My mother moved us all there when I was little. Then my grandmother grew old and needed help. No one wanted to care for her, and I saw my chance to move back. This is where I belong…” She pointed to the grove around the house. “This is where the paths and the trees know my name, where birds sing my song…” She stopped and looked at him shyly. “I guess it sounds silly.”

“No, not at all. I know the feeling. Though it’s about another place.”

“The place where your wife is?”

He grinned. “That’s it.”

“Do you have any children?”

“Three daughters,” he told her proudly.

“How wonderful, you must be so happy. How old are they?”

“They are five, three and then there is the baby, who's 11 months,” he told her. He picked up his wallet and took the photo of the girls. “Here, this is a photo I took of the girls last month.”

“Oh how pretty they are,” she told him. “Oh how wonderful. You are truly a blessed man.”

The expression on his face made her wish that she could take her words back; it was obvious that something was wrong.

“I have daughters too,” she told him to distract him from his thoughts. “They live with their father. It’s for the best… I don’t even have photos of them.” She got up, turned her back at him and looked at the garden, hiding the obvious lie and the unruly emotions that bubbled up. “Enough about that. Why are you here and what did you do to your poor car?”

He stood beside her. “I’m looking for my brother. He got a job in the area over two months ago, and we haven’t heard from him since. It’s unlike him, and I’m here to make sure he’s alright.”

She listened with great interest. He looked for a brother, another man who could be in the area.

“Do you have an address or a name to tell where he stayed?” she asked in the hope of finding out who hid the man from her.

“No. All he said was that he’d work on a farm.”

“How long ago?”

“I got the letter the first week of May, but … It might have taken the letter a week to arrive. Say middle or late May.”

She looked deep into the shadows while she thought about it. The brother had been in the valley for one, maybe two, full moons.

“I know a few farms that might have hired him.” She saw her chance for gaining his trust as well as finding the traitor. “LaVelle’s built a new barn during that time… and I think the Birchman’s dug ditches…” She thought about it and decided that the truth would be hard to find with him there. “Let’s do this. I’ll take you back to your car and help you start it. Then I’ll make a few phone calls while you go back home to get some rest. You can drop by my place tomorrow morning and I’ll let you know what I’ve found out.”

He nodded. “That sounds great. I need the help. I don’t know how to thank you enough…”

“Don’t thank me before it’s over.” She smiled and pointed to the car.

He walked straight to it, got in and fastened his seat belt. She grinned triumphantly towards the lesser witches. She already had power over him.

_____------====== Chapter 9 ======------_____

--Wiley Walker--

The car started immediately when they got back. Jez told him the heat that had probably stopped the car, and that he should refill the radiator with water. He could not remember the car running hot. On the other hand, he remembered things that were clearly hallucinations, so he could easily have missed it. She stood by the road, and watched him turn the car around and he turned to get one last glimpse of her as he drove away. It had been refreshing to meet a normal person again, he thought. On the way back to the guest house, he found that he looked forward to seeing her again to find out if she would be able to help him find Trent.

The setting sun painted the sky in amazing colours as he got out of the car, he looked to the horizon for any sign of clouds and cooler weather, but he found none. His body was heavy and tired, and he dragged his feet as he walked through the door and locket it behind him. Too tired to eat, he fell into the bed with his clothes on and fell asleep instantly.

He dreamt of the sounds of roaring storms, screaming women, barking dogs and the voice of the old man saying, “What do you know about witches, son?” Voluptuous women reached for him. Eyes lurked in the shadows and the grill of a ’58 Chevy floated past him now and then. The old man in black turned into Lucifer standing at a dusty southern crossroad, trying to buy his soul whiles Robert Johnson sang the blues.

Blues fallin' down like hail

And the days keeps on worryin' me

There's a hellhound on my trail

Hellhound on my trail

Women crying, wailing and moaning, soft puckered lips tempting, shadows running and the grill of a Chevy floating by. Floating by … a ’58 Chevy… he struggled to wake up, he had to clear his mind, there was something he had to remember. His hand moved though it was heavy like lead. His foot fell out of the bed, and then he slowly struggled up into a sitting position. His head pounded and ached. His mouth felt dry, and his hands trembled. The grill of a Chevy, he thought repeatedly, the grill of a Chevy. The light from the lamp on the nightstand hurt like daggers stuck into his eyes, and he blinked a couple of times to get used to the light. Trent drove a Chevy. A blue Chevy.

The legs shook underneath him when he staggered to the bathroom to take a shower. The grill of a Chevy. His clouded mind could not remember where he had seen it. The cold water from the shower quickened his senses, and a cup of coffee helped him clear his thoughts. Trent drove a ’58 Chevy, he thought, but that did not mean that he had seen the grill of that Chevy. Another cup of coffee cleared his mind, and he remembered where he had seen it sticking out under a tarpaulin. It was at the last farm he visited before he met the old man.

It was still night, but he decided to go to have a closer look. The air was cooler, and he did not risk another heatstroke. No one would see him in the dark. If it was his brother’s car, then he would stand a greater chance of finding him. Jez lived down the road, and he could visit her at dawn. He knew it would be early, but she had told him to come visit her in the morning, without specifying a time. Chills of fear crawled through his veins, what if it was Trent’s car, what had happened to him and would he find him alive?

--Jezebel Jesse--

Jezebel called for her messengers and gave them orders to gather every witch in the valley by the hagstone. Their disrespect for her and the Witches laws could not go unpunished. The treason worsened since they hid a man in the valley. They had not turned him into a minion. That meant that someone held him under a spell or under lock and chain. Who was brazen and cunning enough to hide him would be difficult to figure out. No one would willingly tell her such a thing.

She sat on the hagstone and made herself comfortable, a safety precaution from her side. Their behaviour lately gave a good reason for caution and the hagstone would protect her from their magic. The early witches moved the hollow hagstone and enchanted it by the creek. It protected the witch standing on it, and through the right magical enchantments, it connected her with the spirit world.

Her thoughts wandered through the events of the day, the words spoken by Mr Walker, and then they arrived at her own mention of her former husband and daughters. It was an uncomfortable thought, and the memories burned in her mind. Pictures of her husband’s betrayal of her. How he had threatened her whole existence. Then the imbecilic lesser witches that her daughters had turned into, and their refusal to obey her and the law. Jez shivered slightly when she thought about what they had forced her to do. The fools.

Her misguided daughters had been misled by their father, she showed them mercy because of that. They never knew what happened and how they died. Her husband, on the other hand had suffered for a long time before she lost her grip of his life, and she lost him to Hel. A few months suffering was not enough to pay for his crime, but his death was out of her control. Removing him and his worthless spawn had also created a chance for a new life for her, a better life, and she was in a way thankful that he had challenged her as he had done.

After that she had taken control over her own life again, she realised the true potential that she had. She is the sixth daughter of the sixth daughter, the second most powerful in the witch hierarchy. Stronger than all hags in the valley, and she had even greater power before her if she played her cards right. All she needed was to give birth to one more daughter; a sixth daughter and the power of three generations would lay in her hands. Having Mr Wiley Walker a father of daughters by her side would increase those chances.

The lesser witches gathered around her. Some were calm and respectful, others crowing and throwing rocks at her, even though they knew they could not harm her. Something made them feel more secure and powerful than they were. Those inferior beings truly thought that they could come up against her and win. Their dull minds would have amused her, if the matter had not been so serious, and about a man.

The middle witches arrived and so did the storm. Angry cries, accusations and pure fury roared through the air and swirled around the hagstone where Jez stood. They rebelled, and the number of insubordinate witches grew. Jez raised her voice and screamed at them, but they did not calm down, and they did not listen. The hate brewed, the air filled with poison, the witches that refused to join the mob were attacked and forced to join or killed. Huetta and Jerushah dragged lower ranking witches such as Bethiah and Neria into the crowd and shouted at them. Jez could not hear what they said, but moments later, they joined the mob and started shouting too.

Enough was enough and Jez lost her patience. She left the safety of the hagstone and swirled up into the air whiles throwing biting acid sparks around her. Several of the lesser witches wailed, moaned and scattered but some were brazen enough to stay and pick a fight.

_____------====== Chapter 10 ======------_____

--Wiley Walker--

He turned the headlights off before he could see the farm. Then he rolled closer and parked by the side of the road. It was safest to walk the last part of the way to avoid detection. The moon and the stars cast enough light for him to find his way without turning on the torch, and he sent them a thankful thought as he walked on. His veins throbbed with eager expectation, soon he would know if he were one step closer to finding his brother or not. The night around him was full of sounds, scraping, gnawing, biting and clawing, leaves rattling and trees creaking, but he ignored it all. Only one thing mattered, seeing the Chevy and finding out if it belonged to his brother.

He found the tarpaulin and lifted it carefully to see more of the car. It was too dark. He fumbled to turn his torch on, and the world around him held its breath. Every living being tensed leaves shivered and the suspense turned into knots. The light showed the blue colour of the Chevy and his heart skipped a beat, and then he moved to see the car better while removing more of the tarpaulin. The sounds of the tarpaulin covered the sounds of the night, and he never heard them as they crawled up behind him. They sniffed and panted and then they dug their claws into his flesh and pulled him with them.

The sharp pain pulled him back into the moment; he cried out in pain and tried to kick himself free from the razor-edged claws and fangs that dug into his flesh. The shadows took form and turned into horrid and monstrous shapes of women, dark and cruel with fires burning in their eyes. Chills of fear froze his limbs. His chest cramped as his heart stopped beating and his lungs cried for air. The fear turned from cold to hot, and the heat gave him more strength. He kicked the evil shadows, twisted his flesh free from their claws and then he ran.

“Get him! Get him!” the shadows shrilled.

Wiley ran for his life, across the fields and into the woods. The shadows caught up with him to claw him now and then, but he broke free and kept on running. Their eyes danced around him, and their laughter terrified his soul. The ground seemed to help them by sticking up rocks and roots in his path. He tumbled and fell when he thought he had picked up speed and was breaking free from them. There was nowhere to hide, nowhere to find safety, and he cried out in panic every time his mind came to the same realisation. They would catch him.

“He’s mine!” a voice cried.

“No! He’s mine! I saw him first!” another voice replied.

The squabbling voices fell behind and hope found him again, perhaps this was his chance to get away. The ground disappeared from underneath his feet; he tumbled down the side of the creek and landed on the rocks. He struggled to get up, but his legs would not obey him, and he started crawling instead. He crawled on his hands and knees over rocks, through shallow water and up the other side.

“Where is he? Find him!” a voice shouted.

Wiley dug his fingers into the ground underneath the trees and pulled himself farther away. The pain blinded and weakened him, and the newly found hope faded again. He could not run. He could not hide. Why had he not listened to the old man?

“Don’t let him get away! Find him! Find him!” the voices cried not far behind him.

He crawled on while the thought of the old man lingered in his mind. The grove where they had talked was close.

“It’s not real,” he whispered to a rock beside his face. “I need to get to Jez. She will help me. She will know what to do.”

Claws dug into his arm and flipped him over on his back. Black shadows shaped as women and ravens circled him while crying out in triumph. Their long arms reached for him. Their claws ripped his clothes to shreds. They dragged him with them, and he felt nothing. The moon and starlight disappeared. The shapes of the shadows blurred out into big blobs of fluff. Their great black wings moved. Their mouths opened, but there was no sound.

He opened his mouth and screamed at the top of his lungs, “Jez help me!” There was no sound and he screamed again, still no sound.

A sharp light blinded his eyes, the light at the end of the tunnel. He thought, “This is how I die.” Then it all faded into darkness.

--Jezebel Jesse--

The half-witted lesser witches followed her up through the air and gnawed on her trail like dogs chewing bone and she pulled them with her higher and higher up into the air. The moon lit the sky around them, one more night to the full moon, and the silver light shined and reflected on their wings as they shot through the air. The cold blue, silver shine gave Jez the idea that would end it all, she turned them all to ice and then she stopped to watch them fall to the ground. Big bluish blocks of ice, how suitable she thought, just as the ice from the lavatory waste tanks from airplanes. She was just kicking out the trash. The frozen witches hit the ground and cracked into several pieces and she turned to go back home and figure out what to do next.

“Jez help me!”

She heard Mr Walker cry in panic down among the trees and she flew down to see what was happening. The shadows crawled and moved, and she threw a strong light spell to see it all clearly. He lay on the ground and several witches were crawling around him while digging their claws into his flesh. They looked up at her and she dived straight down to his body, tapped his forehead to make him unaware of what was happening around him, and then she turned to the stupid hags.

“Aren’t you tired of having yourself around?” she shouted at them. “Well, I’ve got good news; your pathetic lives are over.”

She pulled minerals out of the ground, shaped them to long sharp nails and then she hurled them at the witches with great accuracy. One of the witches reflected three needles and Jez cried out in pain and fury when one of them dug into her thigh. Stunned to find herself bleeding she, lost focus for a short while and most of the witches ran away, but she found her focus in time to stop two of them. Raging with fury she nailed them to a tree and peeled their skin off while listening to their cries for mercy. As if, she would listen to those pathetic worthless maggots. To make her point clear she cut their tongues off before she killed them.

Mr Walker was wounded and helpless and she decided that she had to put him to safety before she could hunt down the other hags. His skin was cold and clammy, his breath was shallow and he was bleeding from many deep cuts. He would bleed dry if she did not stop it. She put a mixture of lamb’s foot, knitbone and lavender on his wounds and bandaged them before she wrapped him in her cloak and carried him to her home.

Silence covered the area, not even the night creatures moved, as if the whole world knew about the lesser witches treason, and held its breath while waiting for what would happen next. Her wound made the walk annoying, he was too heavy for her to fly with, and she limped too. A sign of weakness, not something she wanted the lesser witches to see. The lesser witches had not surrendered and they did not hide in fear from her. They were out there preparing for their next treasonous move. They prepared and she dragged a half-dead man through the woods. She had never come to complete insanity, but she had a feeling that saving Mr Walker would be a good investment.

She dropped him on her hallway floor and did what she could to heal him. It was important to make him think he had been less wounded that he had actually been and she paid extra attention to the deeper cuts and wounds. Some of the cuts would not stay closed and she fell back on a crude but effective method, super glue. Then when all parts were stuck back where they belonged, she turned to her own wounds to patch them up. No super glue though, that was just too tacky for her to put it on her own skin.

He had to enter her home of his own free will. She lifted him out into the front yard before she tapped his forehead to wake him up from oblivion and then she waited for him to wake up.

_____------====== Chapter 11 ======------_____

--Wiley Walker--

Pain, all was pain, throbbing, aching, biting, stinging pain that filled all he knew and all he could imagine. He moved, touched his aching skin and limbs and felt the cuts and bruises that covered him. Then he opened his eyes and looked straight into Jez’s eyes.

“I told you I’m not a nurse didn’t I?” she asked him.

He tried to shape the words, but failed so he nodded instead.

“Just a fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into eh? Didn’t I tell you to go home and get some rest? Did you take my advice? No! You had to go running in the woods like a crazy person. Is that it? You’re crazy and should be locked up? Did you run away from some sort of institution?” She did not stop to listen for answers she just kept on scolding him while she looked at his cuts and bruises. “I shouldn’t help you; that would be for the best. Lord knows what kind of mental issues you have.”

She walked away from him. He wanted to cry out in fear but did not manage to make a sound. The fear fuelled him and he managed to turn and get up on his hands and knees to follow her. Surprised, he found that he had been laying on the ground in front of her front porch but he was relieved that she was still near. The effort he put into getting up the porch stairs was monumental, and he was exhausted when he climbed the last step. A radio played in the house. A reporter talked about the heat-wave, how people were going crazy from the heat, and that people had died. He closed his eyes, heatstroke. He knew it was driving him crazy, and he still fell into it and acted as if it was real.

He woke up again in the afternoon, still laying on her front porch, and found that she had cleaned and put plasters on his wounds and put a sheet over him. The radio was playing and he could hear her move around in the kitchen whiles singing along.

Politicians hide themselves away

They only started the war

Why should they go out to fight?

They leave that role to the poor

He got up and leant against the doorjamb until his head stopped spinning. Then he started shivering and he wrapped himself in the sheet, before he went into the house. The kitchen was not like anything he had expected. Every surface had machine parts, nuts, screws and bolts on it. Jez stirred a pot on the stove standing with her back to him.

“Welcome into my home Mr Walker,” she said without turning. “I’m not a five-star chef, but no one has died from my cooking either.” She turned off the radio and pointed him to a chair. “You better sit before you fall over.”

He was thankful for her offer; his legs had started shaking again.

“You found me,” he said even though it was obvious.

“Yes. You were crawling around in the grove by my garden screaming like a banshee.”

“They were … they…” Images flashed through his mind, and he started to feel uncertain about what he had seen.

“Yes?”

She turned and looked at him, and he felt as shy and small as a schoolgirl.

“I was hallucinating. I saw witches.”

She laughed and shook her head. “Witches? Crooked noses, warts, cats, brooms and all?”

He blushed, squirmed and felt silly. “No.”

“Hungry?” She lifted the ladle and showed him the soup she was cooking.

“Yes,” he replied, happy for the change of subject.

She filled a bowl, put it on the table, dried a spoon with a towel and gave it to him. “Eat it. It will make you feel better.”

The hot thick soup tasted unlike anything he had even eaten before. The green broth tasted like weeds from the garden, and the lumps in it grew in his mouth. He was too polite to stop eating, but he hoped that she would not offer him more.

--Jezebel Jesse--

He had entered her home out of free will and he took the food she gave him. Her efforts paid off. Now she could offer him a gift and see if he took it. His clothes had been shredded during the attack and she could use that to her advantage. Huetta LaVelle drove onto her driveway and she had to make a quick change of plans. She tapped Mr Walker on the head, sent him into oblivion and put is head by the plate on the table.

Then she walked out to greet Huetta.

“This is it… eh…” Huetta giggled nervously and looked around.

“Is what?”

“Uh… the car I told you about.”

“Of course.” Jezebel had totally forgotten about it.

She studied the car with great interest, but without letting her guard down. The other witched had forced Huetta to attack her earlier, and she could assume that she would not attack again. The blue Chevy -58 was in poor condition, the previous owner had failed to take care good care of it. She could remove the rust, restore the body and fix the chrome, but the motor had to work well to be worth the effort. A greater cause of concern was why Huetta brought it to her rather than wait for her, as agreed on.

“Uh…” Huetta panted nervously. “I… it’s, I mean I did not aim for you. I just pretended. They made me, you saw that didn’t you?”

“I noticed,” Jez said and opened the hood of the car. “If you are on my side, then you won’t mind telling why they are rebelling.”

“Umm… Uh, I,” Huetta grasped for air and then she spoke fast for a change. “It’s Zelphia, she’s expecting, a daughter, a sixth daughter. Without you in the world, she will have more power. She wants you gone.”

“The sixth daughter is expecting a sixth daughter,” Jez grinned. “That explains a lot.”

“Eh, um, I’m on your side, you are more powerful,” Huetta stuttered.

“And I’m more scary,” Jez laughed.

“Uh…” Huetta looked as if she could not decide what to say.

“The car,” Jez closed the hood.

“You can have it,” Huetta panted. “A token of my servitude.”

Jezebel invited her into the car and drove three turns around the garden before she parked it in a garage. The sound of the motor and a spell ensured her that no one listened, and she quickly exchanged information with Huetta and gave her orders. Then they said goodbye and hurried back to wake Mr Walker up again.

She tapped him on the head. “Tired? You’ll feel better if you wash up. I’ve got some clothes for you. You can keep them, I don’t want them. The bathroom is down the hall.”

_____------====== Chapter 12 ======------_____

--Wiley Walker--

The short-sleeve shirt was a bit too large, but the pants fitted him perfectly. He did not want to wet the plasters so he wet a towel instead and used it to wash up as best as he could. Then he went to find her again. She was not in the kitchen, and he looked around the house whiles calling for her. She did not reply, and he decided to look outside the house. The sun shined through the treetops. The sunrays sent a kaleidoscope of shapes and colours through the air and painted all things beneath them. The sight was amazing, and he stood there in awe until she materialised by his side and called him back to reality.

“You should stay out of the sun,” she told him. Then she pulled him back on the porch, and had him sit. “I can’t babysit you all the time; you are a grown man after all.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just … I’ve never seen anything so beautiful before,” he said as he looked out to the treetops only to find that the sunrays were gone.

“You have to be a city boy.” She shook her head. “Can I get you something?”

He remembered the heatstroke and that he needed to stay hydrated and said, “Some more of your ice tea would be nice, thank you.”

She walked into the house, and he leant forward to see if he could see the sunrays again. All he could see was ordinary sunlight, dusty leaves and dry trees towering over the scrap heap that was Jez’s garden. Disappointed, he turned to studying the cars that stood in the garden. Old cars, new cars, crashed cars, rusty wrecks and classic beauties such as the Chevy that was sticking out of a garage. A blue ’58 Chevy. His heart skipped a beat, and barbed wire ripped through his veins. He looked again, the Chevy was still there. He floated over the yard. When he got to the car, he hovered over it whiles, he studied every detail. It was Trent’s car.

His emotions were in turmoil as he walked up the steps of the front porch and sat in the chair. Moments later Jez came back out with the ice tea. His mind spun with flashing images and colours, and it felt as if he was in a carnival of madness. She had changed her clothes when she came back out again and was wearing a light summery dress and heavy black boots to go with it. “So that’s what fairies in boots look like,” he thought and saw nothing odd in it. The ice tea tasted even better than it had done the day before, and he emptied his glass and let her fill it again. The kaleidoscope sunrays danced in her hair, and he tried to pick them to make a bouquet of them, as if they were flowers.

“Follow me,” she said with a soft voice and started walking back into the house again.

He got up to follow her, and then he stopped. Something bothered his mind, something important that he had seen or done. Meadow flowers swirled around him, and the thought escaped his mind. He turned and followed her back into the house. She danced around like a brightly coloured leaf in a fall storm, and he danced after her, through the house, up the stair and into a large sitting room. The room was full of flowerpots with low plants with purple flowers and orange fruits in all of them, and a faint light came from the ceiling. He looked up and saw colourful decorated glass candleholders hanging in thin, delicate chains, and the sight filled him with so much joy that he had to laugh. There were large windows on all four walls, they were wide open, and the curtains were flagging as the wind brought cool apple-scented air into the room. “What a wonderful room,” he thought, “I could stay here for forever.”

--Jezebel Jesse--

The protective spells around the house rang in warning and she sensed the hags and their minions moving under the trees. She sat on the sofa and removed her boots to stall for time while she balanced her inner energy. Then she reached for the earth spirits and the essence of her property, and raised a barrier. The disturbance by the witches outside worried her, she raised the barrier as fast as she could, and then she created several new layers. As a last defence, she tapped into her own power, her own essence, and weaved a mesh of it through the barricade layers. Satisfied with the result, she turned to Mr Walker again.

“Come here.” She opened the mandrake fruits and removed the poisonous seeds to prepare them for eating.

“I’ve treated you well haven’t I? I’ve helped you whenever I could.”

“Yes,” he walked over to the sofa and sat beside her.

“Here, taste these,” she said and gave him a fruit. “I’ve been glad to help you. People need to look after one another or this world will fall apart. Don’t you think?”

“Yes,” he nodded and ate the apple-scented fruit.

“I know it’s a big gift that I will ask you for, even though it won’t cost you much…”

The shadows outside the house took shape, became solid and they called their minions and ordered them to destroy the barrier. Hissing and spitting witches with only one aim, one goal, to break into the house and stop the sixth daughter of the sixth daughter from tying the man to herself.

The attack on the barrier made her weaker as she sent most of her power to the defence. He put his arms around her as if he saw her weakness and tried to give her strength.

“It’s OK,” he told her while holding her gently. “Just ask.”

“I’m worried that you will think less of me…” she said and used her weakness to lure him in.

“It’s OK,” he said and kissed her forehead.

“I’ve lost my family. I’ve lost everything I loved… and I’m growing older…” she stopped as if she hesitated, another attack on her barrier was calling for her attention. She leant on his shoulder and pretended to cry while focusing on what happened outside.

Talora ordered her minions to dig their way in, Jerushah focused on the spells that created the invisible barrier whiles Behira and Zelphia were literally whipping up a storm. Mehalia and the lesser witches cooked acid brews in their cauldrons.

The sky filled with dark clouds and Behira and Zelphia started directing the lightning to the barrier around the house, lightning after lightning struck and made the ground shake. The tunnels that Talora’s minions dug collapsed and she roared in fury when the ground swallowed them, and then in triumph when a crack in the barrier became visible. Jerushah rushed there to take control of the opportunity. Mehalia ordered her minions to dig out the dirt-covered minions from the collapsed tunnel and fill the hole with the brew that she and the lesser witches had brewed.

Jez struggled to keep control over both situations, but found that she had to let Mr Walker go for a short moment while she handled the lightning that bombarded the barrier. The barrier started to crack and she needed to strengthen it. The house shook and she could feel the power drain away from her, slowly but steadily.

“What’s that?” he asked her.

“Thunder,” she lied. “I hope it means that it will rain.”

Her whole essence trembled from the attack and her effort to hold the barrier shut.

Mehalia’s poisonous brew steamed and bubbled in the pits, one last ingredient and the brew would erupt, spray acidic, corrosive fumes on the barrier, and weaken it further. She looked around for the ingredient, found Lawinia Appleman standing by her side, and then she pushed the old hag into the brew. Nothing happened at first other than Lawinia’s hissing curses and desperate clawing to get up from the brew. Mehalia kicked her down and the brew started to bubble and get ready to erupt.

A gnawing pain tormented the barrier and her skin and she barely noticed Mr Walker as he put a blanket around her.

“It’s OK,” he let her know. “It’s OK.”

“I promise you, what happens here stays here…” she whispered in his ear with great effort. “Trust me.”

“I do,” he said.

She could not hide the pain and her eyes filled up with tears when another attack hailed down on her. Mr Walker was there caring for her, touching her gently and kissing away her tears, strange how her weakness could attract him like that. Then she sensed confusion, he moved back a little in deep thought.

The witches and their minions cheered when Mehalia’s brew erupted and the acid made the barrier even thinner. “Soon! Soon!” Claws, fangs and fingers reached through the hairline crack in the barrier and gnawed it to tiny fragments, crushing the barrier as eggshell. Behira and Zelphia shot lightning after lightning at the weakened barrier, not caring about the minions that they killed in the process. The barrier could not hold them back much longer.

She had to get Mr Walker’s promise before the hags broke through and ruined it all.

_____------====== Chapter 13 ======------_____

--Wiley Walker--

“Anabelle,” he whispered and the name echoed through his body.

“She will never find out,” she whispered with pain dripping from her breath. “What happen here, stay here.”

“What do you want?” He studied her tormented face to find clues.

“A child of my own. Before it is too late…” She trembled. “The pain… the sorrow is eating me.” She touched his hand gently. “I understand if I’m asking too much, but I assure you. She would never find out. Never.”

Anabelle was his wife; it was her face that he had seen flashes of, and they had children, daughters. He had a brother, Trent, and he had come to Alruna to find him. He had to find Trent.

She whimpered in pain and hugged him hard, “Please…”

“I have to find my brother,” he mumbled. “I have to find Trent.”

“Help me,” she begged with a pitiful voice, “and I will help you. I’ll help you find him in the morning.”

Something was not right, though he did not know what, but he knew that he did not trust her.

“You know how to find him?” he asked.

“Yes,” her voice trembled and sweat pearled on her skin.

He felt certain that it was a trick somehow, that he should be wary. She was lying, he decided. She had no intent to help him, no intent to help him find his brother.

“Help me find him first. Help me find Trent and I will help you,” he told her and smiled smugly inside, that should sort it out. He would not give her anything, unless she helped him find his brother.

“I promise to find your brother and take you to him. Do you promise to help me once I have reunited the two of you?” She cried out in pain and curled up into a ball. “Promise,” she whimpered, “promise.”

“What’s wrong?” He truly worried about her. “Are you ill? Do you need a doctor?”

He touched her pale, clammy skin and found her to be strangely cold. Her eyes dazed, and her breath shallow. The whole house shook and rumbled, and he thought he heard someone knocking at the door.

“Promise,” she whispered. “Promise first.”

“I think there is someone at the door,” he told her. “I’ll go open it and then I’ll call for help.”

He tried to get up, and she clung to him. “Please don’t leave me like this. Not without letting me know first,” she begged.

He felt sorry for her. She was weak and in so much pain, and he wanted to comfort her.

“I promise,” he told her. “You promise to help me find my brother, and I promise to help you once I have met him again.”

“I promise,” she told him.

--Jezebel Jesse--

She had his promise and she had no reason to focus on him any longer. The painful attacks on her defence kept on rolling and she knew they were almost through. She instantly lifted all barriers, the minions tumbled in and hustled to get up the stairs. She got up on her feet stood between them and Mr Walker.

“Back down!” she roared. “Step aside and let your owners through.”

The minions fell whimpering to the floor and crawled down the stairs, moments later, the witches ran into the room squealing and crowing. Behira threw a lightning at Jezebel, and it faded and disappeared with a slight turn of the hand from Jez.

“I have his promise,” Jez said with a loud and domineering voice.

The lesser witches moaned and shivered in fear. Several of them fell to their knees and started to beg for pardon, claiming that they had been misled or forced, but Jez sisters stayed on their feet and they looked at her with defiance.

“A promise is not a daughter,” Zelphia crowed well aware that she was already carrying a daughter.

“The power is not yours, not yet,” Jerushah hissed and then she sent venomous snakes towards Wiley.

Jez laughed and turned the snakes into colourful butterflies what flew out the windows. “I might not have the supreme power, yet, but I’m still the sixth daughter of the sixth daughter and I am stronger than you, and still stronger than Zelphia,” she reminded them.

Talora pouted and put her hands back in her pockets, without trying to throw the spell that she had prepared. Behira had fury and lightning in her eyes and she stepped up to face Jezebel.

“I curse…” she cried at the top of her lungs, “I curse… I curse…”

“Yes?” Jez asked and grinned at her.

“I curse… I curse… I curse…” Behira cried louder and louder, but she was unable to finish her curse.

Mr Walker watched it all with big horrified eyes, unable to move or speak.

She stopped Behira by putting a fruit in her mouth, “One of you have something that rightfully belongs to me. Where is he?”

All witches and lesser witches moved away from her in one sweeping movement.

“Who took him?” she roared with a demanding voice. “Who betrayed me first?”

“It was Huetta!” Bethiah squeaked, “She took him!”

Jezebel turned to Huetta, “Is this true?”

“No!” Huetta whispered with pretended fear in her voice.

“It’s true; it’s her who took him!” Bethiah insisted. “Ask her about the car!” She said with a vindictive smile. “Ask her where she got it!”

“Huetta LaVelle!” Jez called. “Come here and tell me about it.”

Huetta crawled across the floor, moaning. “I got him,” she whimpered, “I got him.”

“And the Chevy?”

“It’s his,” Huetta moaned.

It all made sense then, Huetta had given her the car to cover up her own crime.

“I told you so!” Bethiah crowed. “I told you!”

“Yes, you did,” Jez turned to her. “And when did you plan to tell me that Mr Walker stayed in your guest house?”

Bethiah looked at Jez in horror and then she backed into a corner.

“Give him to me Huetta,” Jez demanded.

Huetta moved, called her minions and ordered them to get her prisoner. Jez sat down beside Mr Walker, put her arm around him and tapped his forehead to send him into oblivion.

It took her well over two hours to remove the unwanted from the house, kill the traitors and get rid of their bodies. Even after several of the lesser witches had turned sides and helped her out. She also held as short ceremony where the lesser witches that had turned to her side swore the oath of servitude and death. They would be her slaves for all eternity or die because they stopped. Huetta’s minions brought her the missing brother. She cleaned him up, lifted his spirits and convinced him the best thing to do was to never tell his brother the truth about what had happened. In return, he would be a free man again and Jez would protect his freedom.

She went back to Mr Walker and the big room, tidied it up a bit and tapped him on the forehead.

“Your brother will be here soon,” she told him. “I promised to find him didn’t I?”

Mr Walker moved and looked at her with startled eyes, “What are you?”

“I am your friend Wiley Walker, I’m the one that promised to find your brother.” She smiled at him softly and touched his shoulders to pass a calming spell to him.

“What are they?” He looked at her and pointed out into the room.

“Who?” She pretended that she did not know what he talked about.

Surprised as he looked around and found nothing of what he had expected.

There was a knock at the door and Jez left him to go to open it, she gave his brother a few last instructions and made sure that he would stick to his promise.

“And here he is,” she smiled at him as she came up the stairs, “the lost brother.”

The brothers hugged and she almost purred with joy. She got him and her power would be greater once he fulfilled his promise.

_____------====== Chapter 14 ======------_____

--Wiley Walker--

Wiley and Trent stayed overnight. They talked about what happened and the problems the heat had created. Trent told them all about how he had worked up in the mountains, unaware that his brother was looking for him. He had been unable to call as he had promised, but he had sent several letters, to explain the situation, letters that had never arrived in Wiley’s mailbox. Jez had dropped hints and comments about the heat until Wiley had caved in and told Trent about his heatstroke and the hallucinations he had experienced. They all laughed at it, and Trent promised not to tell Anabelle.

The air was cool, and the nature filled with greens and flowers the day that Wiley and Trent left Alruna. Trent had decided that he wanted to stay with Wiley’s family for a while, and Wiley had welcomed the idea. They had spent too little time together lately. Jez bought Trent’s car, and that gave him extra cash to spend on a “holiday” as he called it, besides, he had no wheels to roll him down the road anymore.

*** *** ***

Trent left after a month; he was too restless to stay for longer. Wiley had started to feel restless too after he had gone. A deep urge to leave home brewed within him. He had talked to Trent about it when he called and Trent had told him to stay at home, to stay where he belonged. Most of all he urged him never to go back to Alruna.

The heatstroke that Wiley had suffered from in Alruna faded in his mind as the weeks and months passed by. However, the full moon would keep him awake. When he felt restless, he would pace back and forth between the windows to catch a glimpse of the moon whiles eating apples. The memories felt real and sometimes he wondered if it truly had been hallucinations. The promise he made seemed like a dream too. He would never have made such a crazy promise, and she would surely know that he never intended to keep it.

*** *** ***

At midwinter the restlessness overpowered him, and he had to travel. He had arranged to work out of town in early December to try to conquer it, and it had helped, but then he made an unplanned right turn as he was driving home again. The poorly maintained road took him down into the valley, past the sign that said “..run.” and through the dark and sleepy village. He knew where he was going; he knew that he had made a promise, and that he had to honour it. She had promised to find his brother, and she had honoured that promise.

Jez opened the door before he knocked, and the scent of apples and good memories engulfed him. The full moon made the snow in the night shimmer like tinsel and silver, and her laughter filled him with immense joy. She said nothing, neither did he; words were not necessary because they both knew. What happens in Alruna stays in Alruna. Jez danced through the house whiles fetching tea to fill him with heat in the cold winter and yellow fruits that had a scent of apples, and she was singing all along.

I've got a Mandrake Root

It's some thunder in my brain

I feed it to my babe

He thunders just the same

Food of love sets him a flame

I’ve got the power baby…

__________________________________________________________________________
I picked the name Alruna for the village, though I know that few can see the connection to the story. So I would like to explain it a bit further. Alruna is Swedish and the origin of the name is “All-“ as in “everything” and “–Runa” as in “secret”, so in other words it is “The one who knows all secrets”. It’s also the word used for true mandrake root (Mandragora officinarum) also known as Satan’s Apple, a key ingredient in the story.

The Mandrake plant is poisonous and it is a plant that is traditionally used by witches and warlocks. It has many different uses and effects depending on what part is used and how. It can be used for pain relief, as a sedative or to cure melancholy, it also causes hallucinations and it is sometimes used as an aphrodisiac. The owner of a mandrake root holds a great power but risks selling his or her soul to the devil, though that is not a problem for someone that has already sold their soul of course.

The snippets of song lyrics I’ve used are from:

· “Me and Bobby McGee” written by Chris Kristofferson and Fred Foster

· “Ding-dong! The witch is dead” written by Harold Arlen and E.Y Harburg

· “Hellhound on my trail” written by Robert Johnson

· “War pigs” written by Tony Iommy, Ozzy Osbourne, Geezer Butler and Bill Ward

“Mandrake root” written by Rod Evans, Jon Lord and Ritchie Blackmore
__________________________________________________________________________

ConChron

Pages

Tuesday, June 28, 2016

Until the day breaks and the shadows flee.

Wednesday, June 3, 2015

All hard work brings a profit.

Thursday, April 2, 2015

Her feet go down to death; her steps lead straight to the grave.

Tuesday, September 23, 2014

Alruna

--Wiley Walker--

--Jezebel Jesse--

--Wiley Walker--

--Jezebel Jesse--

--Wiley Walker--

--Jezebel Jesse--

--Wiley Walker--

--Wiley Walker--

--Wiley Walker--

--Wiley Walker--

--Wiley Walker--

--Wiley Walker--

--Wiley Walker--

--Wiley Walker--

--Wiley Walker--

--Wiley Walker--