Getting Out of Dodge…in a Dodge

“Where are you going?” asked the voice of Michael’s mother.

The ground under Michael shifted as the bag was lifted into the air, the motion throwing him from his feet.

“I need to get some air,” he heard Lucie say.

He got the sense of motion and figured she must be walking, a pause, a click and he figured they were out through the front door. His heart soared, but was tempered by caution because he had been fooled before by the wiles and magic of Adelina.

Another pause, the sound of a car door and then he was stationary. There was the sound of the engine roaring to life, some music from the radio. He felt the car lurch as it was put into gear and for the next quarter hour he tried to envision where they were driving before the car stopped and was turned off.

When the bag opened again, Lucie reached in, picking him up and setting him down on the passenger seat of her car. “It’s okay now,” she soothed, smiling down at him, cerulean sky vibrant through the windows.

“Are you the real Lucie?” he asked, looking up at her, uncertain of her identity.

“I am,” she nodded, “but, I suppose if I wasn’t and wanted to trick you, I would probably tell you the same thing, so I guess that doesn’t help you much does it?” she answered with a pleasant smile.

He nodded and chuckled, though there was stab of fear in his gut that at any moment the lovely young woman hovering over him would transform into a wizened old crone.

“As far as I know, I am Lucie,” she assured, a glint in her eye.

“Okay,” he said, bowing his head. “Where are we?”

“A short ways from the house, I thought it wise to put some distance between you and those who are looking for you,” she replied.

“Mirielle?”

“I am under the impression she is soon to be restored if she hasn’t been already,” Lucie answered. “None the worse for wear, but perhaps enlightened by her experience with your sister.”

Michael nodded, “How does Adelina know Madison? I mean, they sure seem quite familiar with one another,” he said.

“When you sister entered puberty, she manifested some very strong latent abilities that caught the attention of my dedanya. Usually we are not permitted to train outside our clan, though this does not apply to her given her station,” Lucie tried to explain.

“So for years she has been learning what, like gypsy magic?” he asked.

Lucie chuckled, “It’s a little more involved and complex, but for the sake of argument, that analogy would suffice,” she replied.

“Jesus,” Michael murmured, trying to assemble random memory fragments into a cohesive order using this knowledge as a means of linking the bits and pieces together. He had been so caught up in his own bullshit, he had never noticed or even suspected anything was happening in her life. No clue.

“I can see the gears turning in your head,” Lucie said.

“Is she becoming a witch?” Michael asked.

Lucie seemed to consider a moment, “I guess in the broadest sense of the definition, that would be the direction she is heading in,” she answered.

“And you?” he queried softly, “Are you one too?”

She smiled and nodded slowly, “And me as well,” she answered.

“Why are you helping me then?” he asked.

Lucie frowned, “I think the whole situation involving you was staged and you were set up to test your sister,” she stated, “and, well, I think it’s wrong, so that’s why.”

“Can you undo the curse?” he asked softly.

She looked at him, mouth still tight and slowly shook her head, “I’m sorry, no,” she said sadly.

His heart dropped.

“It’s is just too complex and I don’t have the cipher,” she admitted glumly.

“Cipher?” he inquired, crestfallen.

“Like the key, or the one strand that will unravel the curse. Dedanya gave Madison the cipher for Mirielle’s hex, who, by now should be back to herself, but she herself holds the cipher for your curse,” she clarified.

“So I guess that’s it then?” he said with a chuckle of resignation.

Reaching out, she touched the side of his face with her finger, “For the time being I can keep you safe until I can convince her to undo this thing,” she said, offering him a warm smile.

“Won’t you get into trouble for defying her, because if that’s the case, I don’t want you to get punished on my account,” he stated.

Her smiled widened, “Perhaps there is some hope for you after all. I think the Michael of only a few days ago would not have been so noble as to be concerned about my well-being,” she said.

Suddenly overcome with emotion, Michael was on the verge of a breakdown, tears sliding shamelessly down his face. He didn’t care if she saw him cry.

“It’s okay,” she soothed empathetically, picking him up in her right hand and holding him close to her chest.

“Thank you,” he mumbled between sobs.

“Shh,” she said, petting him with her left hand.

“For everything,” he finished, sniffling.

Holding him there in her hand, so close, his tiny life existing at her whim, she felt it, felt the stir deep within herself. She knew it wasn’t him or anything he was consciously doing, it was the curse, trying to influence her, tease her into using him. It was so sweet, seductive, like a siren song calling to her most primal of senses. Shaking her head, she resolved herself, silencing the aching want, pushing it back into the recesses of her mind. Protecting him was not going to be easy with the lure of such tender promise, she would need to be perpetually on guard to prevent herself from succumbing to the lure.

“Are you okay?” he asked, looking up at her through puffy red eyes.

Shaking her head, she returned to the moment, “Fine,” she said. “I’m fine.” She hasn’t realized how strong the pull. Was she fine? How long could she deny herself?