《Incant - A Wizard in Cienmiedos (Short Story)》Chapter IV
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Nora chuckled as she stepped inside of the church with Father Vincente in tow.
“Is there something funny I’m missing out on?” the Father had asked, ignoring the nervous stares of the other congregants providing the two of them with as wide a berth as the walls of the church allowed.
“So much talk of devils and demons and heretics and yet I didn’t burst into flames. Can’t say I’m surprised but…” Nora chuckled again.
But it would have been funny if she was done in like that.
Father Vincente stared at her with a serious face, “I assure you our Lords and Ladies would not dream of harming our savior. Heresy does not preclude you from salvation and forgiveness.” Wrap it anyway he liked, it was just a hypocritical justification to have her in the church. Or allow his wife to remain on the premises.
The inside of the church was brighter on the inside, the multi-colored glass tessellations depicting the mythos of the Burning Wheel, its many pilgrims traveling towards the central point of the world to represent a balance of the world and the progression of time.
The wheel turns and so must we.
The congregants whispered where they thought they’d been out of view or out of hearing to pass judgment on the witch walking through their holy grounds.
Nora would ignore them. As she did then, she’d do so now with her head held high and an attitude on her face begging for any of them to find the guts to make her act different.
“Miss Antierre, head past my dius on the stage and you’ll find the entrance to the basement.”
A basement in Florida. How unexpected.
The Father continued, “My wife should be tending to some of those sick and injured. The most lucid of them would be Gabriella. Ernesto had mentioned her account sparking a fire under him to act sooner rather than later.” At the mention of that name, Vincente turned his eyes to the ground in bitter contemplation.
“Must have been quite an account then.” Nora veered the conversation back to the person of interest. She didn’t need him wallowing like that.
He shook his head, “I only heard snippets when Ernesto was talking to me. For my blessing. What he did tell me was that this wizard is not of the right mind. I petitioned for your involvement as soon as he’d given me his request in hopes I could persuade him to see things my way but old dogs and new tricks, right?” The melancholy ran deep with the Father as he looked up and took a moment for himself.
“Hey, focus. Get your ass over to the Annes and convince the kid to talk after I’m done here.” Nora gave him a command and didn’t wait for a reply. She walked past the standoffish congregants onto the stage and down a hole with a staircase within it. The edges of the staircase were lit with white candles that smelled of vanilla intermingled with the pungent scent of copper and decay.
A grand entrance.
Nora made her way down and noted the cots on either side of her filled with congregants' personal effects or bodies wrapped like mummies in bandages. A tune carried sweetly in that dim miasma from the center of the room, a portable light shining down on a cot and doctor both.
The source of the tune was the doctor. Her hair was cropped into a tight bun, brown hair bundled together with loose strands spilling out every which way. She wore an apron, makeshift medical attire with an equally makeshift arrangement of medical tools to alleviate pain and treat patients. Her eyes narrowed on the woman's palms. Her hands were glowing with a soft light as they hovered over the patient, a faint squelching sound as flesh tore apart and knitted itself back together.
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A passing glance at the patient told Nora this was a losing battle but damn if she wasn’t impressed by her dedication.
“Oi, your husband sent me down here.” Nora called out to the woman. The woman jumped and let out a small yelp. The glowing in her hands ceased as she fumbled for clean rags and adjusted the glasses on her face.
“Oh? You’re the wizard then?” The woman wiped away blood off her arms and threw away bandages caked in crimson.
“Yeah. You’re not half bad yourself.”
The woman let out a snort and waved off the compliment, “Lords and Ladies no. I was given a gift, yes, but I can only do this much for the rest of the town as penance. It’s my duty.”
Fucking swamp swallowin’...
“You’re doing good work then, regardless of what those fucks upstairs might think. But yeah, I’m your wizard til I get this problem solved. Names Nora Antierre but you can call me what you like.”
The woman adjusted her apron and approached Nora, grabbing her calloused hand with their own calloused white hands, “Thank you for making your way here, Miss Antierre. My name is Liliana Paredes. It is a pleasure to meet someone I share kinship with.” Her last sentence felt genuine to Nora and she could understand why considering how full of disdain the congregants were about her being in town. Sure she was the wife of their Father but that goodwill only went so far if she ever succumbed to the temptation for more power.
“Alright, enough with the introductions,” Nora gingerly peeled her hands out of the housewives, “Point me in the direction of this Gabriella person. I have a couple questions about the rogue wizard that only she can answer.”
“Over here, bruja.” A few cots over sat up a bandaged woman whose words dripped of contempt. Half her face was wrapped in white with short black hair poking from the openings, the other half in scowl. “Get over here. I don’t have all day.”
“Gabriella! Miss Antierre is here as our guest and we should treat her-”
The woman stopped Liliana cold with a pointed glare.
“Good, sooner I can hear your end of things, the sooner I get out of this shithole blip on the map.” Nora met that woman's contempt with her own, grabbing a nearby chair and sitting down next to them, close enough to conduct a cursory inspection of her wounds.
“Hey, not so close. Move back.” Gabriella tried to remain firm but croaked her sentence halfway through, blood and spittle coughed out. Nora could see skin writhing underneath the bandages with small dots of blood littering her face and the rest of her bandaged body.
“Just give your story and you can see me disappear.” Nora waited for the woman to catch her breath.
“Fuck you. Fuck your kind.”
Nora simply smirked.
“You’re not going anywhere Gabriella. Now either you tell me what happened to you or I take this loss on the chin and fuck off elsewhere.”
Lilliana scrambled to Nora’s side, “No, you wouldn’t. You’d leave the town like this?”
“I wouldn’t leave jackshit. It’s Gabriella over here that has the town's fate in your hands. Either she can grit her teeth and get on with it or she tells everyone in town she hated my guts so much I got up and left.”
The woman's face was inscrutable but Nora had faith she’d come around to see things her way.
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The powerless always did.
“They arrived out of the blue. Maybe a week ago, a week and a half ago, the time is blurry.” Gabriella started retelling her story.
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It was a Tuesday when their town had their lives upended. She was standing vigilant for any potential customers as the hostess and owner of the Chiquita Cafeteria, a dining establishment renowned for their sandwiches and their hospitality.
She couldn’t focus however on the task at hand, the attentive care to be given to customers.
“They’re late.” She told her assistant manager, a young man named Pedro who was currently setting out cutlery on the tables and booths of the restaurant.
“We have enough food to serve for the day, ma’am. I’m sure Humberdto is just running a little late going through protocol.” Pedro spoke softly while trying to reassure the older woman but her nerves were standing on end.
Since taking over the business from her mothers hands and before that point, Gabriella held two truths in her mind. The first was that the sun would rise in the east and set in the west. The other was that Humberdto would always show up with his food shipments before they were set to open. Through shine, rain, or hurricane, the small man was a dependable ox and practically family.
So when she sat outside of the backyard waiting for his ivy green truck to round up with a caravan and their expected shipment of foodstuffs, her heart skipped several beats. If he was expecting to be late he would have sent a messenger her way to let her know but that wasn’t even a possibility in her mind.
“These are ill omens, boy. Just because we move as the wheels turn doesn’t mean we move blindly.” Gabriella understood he was trying to console her but empty platitudes would only sour her mood.
Before he could make a reply, they heard the distinct rattling engine of a diesel truck heading towards their backyard.
“Look alive, Pedro. Take care of customers out front that start trickling in. I’ll handle Humberdto in the back.” Gabriella didn’t wait for a reply as she sprinted through the kitchen and out the back raring to give the man a piece of her mind.
Strange. She emerged from the backdoor and saw the man’s truck but no contingent trailed around or behind him. Did he make his drive through the roadways without a caravan?
That unease in her stomach didn’t go away and she couldn’t dismiss it with every step taken towards her family friend. She swung her hand on the side of the door and knocked, “Oye, Humberdto!”
The door unlocked and she saw Humberdto, a face filled with anguish with hands tightly wound on the steering wheel and a sack of stars on the passenger's seat.
“Come with me Gabriella.” His hoarse voice was full of panic. “Please come with me, Gabriella. Please, let's leave this town right now.”
She pulled back, “Humberdto, you’re scaring me. What happened? Que paso?” The man tried to grab her hand but she pulled further away. “Humberdto, what happened! Why don’t you have a contingent following you along?”
His eyes were erratic, darting between the clock on his dashboard and the rear view mirrors.
“Please, mija, just get in the truck! I don’t want to leave you behind!” He cried out in pain, his eyes pleading for her to abandon everything she’d known.
But the pit in her stomach did not escape.
“I can’t leave with you without knowing why.” Gabriella looked at her family friend with a steadfast look.
“Goodbye, mija. And please forgive me.” Humberdto sounded defeated as his engine roared to life and he pushed Gabriella off the arm railing and onto the ground.
She crashed onto the floor with a painful thud but her feelings of confusion and betrayal were a thousand times worse. And that sinking sensation made her feel like the very air around her was suffocating her.
She fumbled to stand up and run back into the store. Darting through the backdoor and past the kitchen, she found Pablo quaking in his shoes while taking an order from an ill dressed business man.
There were tears in his suit and his black hair was the bad kind of greasy, slathered in gunk and grime instead of something tacky like gel or pomade. He was smiling as he quenched his thirst with a tall glass of water, Adam's apple bobbing up and down like a fishing bob in a lake.
“Ah! There’s something refreshing about a nice cold glass of water after a hard night's work.” The man declared in a voice as slimy as he was.
“D-d-do you know what-t-t you’ll be ordering, s-s-sir?” Pedro struggled to ask the mystery man his order.
The man grabbed his own head and audibly cracked his neck, side to side, “You know, I’m really excited to try your sandwiches. That driver and his friends were talking about getting some earlier this morning.” He pulled the menu to his face and pointed at an option, “One Central Special, coming right up!” He shouted in a mocking tone.
Pedro scribbled the order into his ticket pad as best he could.
“And the name for this order?”
The man looked at Pedro up and down and laughed, “Oh you don’t have to worry about that one. Just call me Laz.”
Pedro turned to look at Gabriella and her stomach wretched and heaved on the tiled floor. The poor boy's face.
“Ma’am, I can take c-c-care of the order. Would you mind k-k-keeping Laz’s company?” Pedro’s many eyes silently plead for her to release him from the man’s grasp.
She took a deep breath.
“Sure thing Pedro. Head to the back. I’m sure our guest can keep me busy with plenty of interesting stories.” She strained to smile in front of the devil. Taking the cue, he sprinted into the kitchen and the two heard the faint clicking of the stove before a fire rose up from the silence.
“Your sign doesn’t lie about the hospitality. The boy there didn’t even scream when I started adding eyes to his face,” Laz suddenly looked lost in thought, “I wonder how many I can add before he starts screaming.” Posed as an idle curiosity.
“How did you hear about our small cafeteria?” Gabriella didn’t know what else to ask as the shock of her situation overwhelmed her.
“Oh! You must not have been able to hear from back there. The truck driver and his band of merry men were talking about how delicious your sandwiches were and I was just so hungry so I decided to swing by and see what all the rage was about.”
And that's when the weight of her connection dawned on her.
“Did the truck driver give you a ride over here?” She asked as her body went numb.
“Sure did! I asked him where he was planning to go and when he mentioned how small and peaceful this Cienmiedos was, I knew I had to take a look for myself.”
Years of dedication as a family friend and he’d shown his true colors in that moment; a pathetic and sniveling coward only out for himself.
“What do you plan to do now that you’re here, brujo.” Gabriella couldn’t hide the malice in her voice.
He was taken aback at first but his surprised face turned to one of amusement very quickly, “A backbone so early in my journey? You know what I am and what I’ve done to the little employee there and yet you committed to this slight?” Laz pointed in the kitchen's direction and whispered something under his breath.
He waved his arms towards himself and the door swung open to a stilted Pedro woodenly moving towards the counter.
“The world is organized by a food chain,” he started as the two watched Pedro woodenly acquire a steak knife with a caveman's grip, “And for years upon years, you humans were at the top. But what happens when this chain is tilted?” Like a conductor, the man twirled his finger up and down to the beat of Pedro’s steak knife slamming onto his exposed fingers. The boy was cleaving into his fingers, one digit section at a time with no hesitation.
Blood pooled around the hand and although Gabriella struggled to stop him and kick the devil out of her store, she couldn’t lift a finger.
“It’s such a simple answer; you learn your place.”
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