Sinister Magick -Chapter 5: Realm Seekers

Chapter 5: Realm Seekers 

My mother had told me about Buyrn when I was eight. I remember reading stories about the magic that lies beyond further dimensions. I saw pictures filled with light and color, cities roared in action and people looked normal but—there was always something off.

I’d eventually start to have nightmares, of being trapped in a cell between two large walls, unable to escape. Now I know why those dreams were recurrent, it was the universe’s way of telling me to not only protect myself, but also my family.

Buyrn was more of a fairytale to me, I never thought it may have been real. If Malachi is anywhere, it’s there, in Buyrn, where entities live amongst the supernatural.

Once Sybil goes to sleep, I allow myself into my bedroom. Edris joins me, flicking the light on. Our eyes are tired, swollen—and our bodies are just about giving up. I sit on the edge of the bed and Edris looks at me.

I don’t need him to talk. I don’t need to hear anything. The silence is comfortable enough, and it’s about time my brain went blank for just a few seconds. We stayed there, staring at each other for a couple minutes. He then slides into bed, patting the open pillow next to him, and I allow myself to lay down as well.

Everything is quiet, the only sounds being the light echo of the crickets outside the window. A storm seemed to be brewing, the clouds rolling in above us, thunder distant in the sky.

Edris and I haven’t slept with each other in ages, and it feels wonderful to have some extra body heat. Malachi would sometimes sleep with me when he had nightmares, but it wasn’t the same. Edris is hot, warm, everything in between. His body radiates heat from every angle—and it gets cold here most nights.

As I flicker the light back off, I drift into a light sleep, my mind extending into a further place.

~

I’m not sure how long we were asleep, but when my eyes open the light blinds me. We forgot to close the blinds last night, we were so tired, and the room is now lit up as if it’s midday. I can hear the birds chirping and noise downstairs in the kitchen—I’m guessing Sybil woke up before us.

I glance to my left and see Edris still passed out; his large muscular arm draped over his eyes like a sleeping mask. I forgot how attractive he was, and maybe beneath that cold personality is still the man I feel in love with.

I place a hand on his shoulder, and he jumps, throwing the quilt blanket off of his body and onto the floor. He sits up quickly, breathing heavily and glances at me as he stands, grabbing his shirt from the nightstand. I almost don’t want to get up and face the problem in front of us. I had hoped it was a dream, but to no avail when I didn’t hear Malachi crying, asking either Sybil or I to take him to the restroom. It was a morning routine for him.

“I need to work today,” He grumbles, heading for the closet. I let out a small sound, astonished that he could even say that. How could you work when your child is missing, and taken away by the goddess of witchcraft?

“You are not working,” I demand, standing on my feet and facing him, “I’ve dealt with you, for ten years, Edris, and I’m tired of feeling like you don’t care about this family anymore. If you don’t want to be a part of it, just say it, and pack your shitty clothes and get the hell out.”

Why even sleep in the same room as me last night? He went months without sleeping with me. Why did you start now if you’re just going to up and leave? I thought he’s just as worried about Malachi as I am. Now, I’m starting to question everything.

I’ve never snapped on him like this before, although this time it felt like the right thing to do. I’ve let him walk all over me, and right now I need my husband more than ever. Now is not the time for him to step out on us and go visit his mistress. That’s what he wants to do, go to ‘work’ and let out all of his stress by fucking his little toy. Not this time. Not while this is happening.

He pauses, shocked at my outburst, and grins, “Excuse me? Last time I checked, I’m a grown ass man, and I provide for this family—so shove whatever is bothering you right back up your ass. I don’t have time for this, I’m already late. Keep me updated on Malachi.”

He brushes past me, bumping his shoulder with mine while fiddling with the loose tie around his neck. He locks himself in the bathroom, moments later, the sound of the shower starting. Oh, how good a shower sounds right now…

I resist the urge to cry at his lack of attentiveness and change my dirtied clothes into something clean. I grabbed a pair of jeans and a regular blouse, and head downstairs to discuss with Sybil what our next moves are. I’m going to need her help in finding Malachi, and I still think I need to find Keenan, maybe he could talk to Hecate himself.

Sybil is sitting down at the bar, eating some pancakes she must’ve made earlier. I take a seat next to her and start devouring and apple that’s in the display bowl on the counter. She doesn’t look at me and instead begins to say, “All I’m seeing is fog. Thick, dense, fog and I don’t know what it means.

Easy answer.

“Hecate must’ve done some kind of enchantment to keep us from tracking him. Not strong enough to break your bond, I suppose,” I take another bite of my apple, the sour taste lingering on my lips.

“We’re going there, aren’t we?” She drops her fork and places her napkin in her lap.

“Yes,” I say, bluntly.

“How are we going to do this?”

“We do whatever we have to,” I respond, looking up at her. She looks sad today, defeated almost. Like she’s been up all night trying to figure out where her brother has been. It must be draining for her, “But I need to find your uncle Keenan first. I heard he’s in town. He may be of help.”

“Uncle Keenan?” She looks back at me, “I thought he hated you?”

“I did too. But he’s here, and we need his help. We leave in ten minutes.”

~

I finally find time to freshen up in the downstairs guest bathroom. Edris leaves shortly after, the loud grinding sound from the garage door marking his absence. He doesn’t say a word to me. When I exit the bathroom, Sybil and I gather our things; phones, purses, and two granola bars.

“There’s three inns here,” I say to her, leaning on the marbled countertop as she scrolls on her phone, “I can try and send him some type of signal, because the concierge won’t give out any personal information.”

“Or I can sneak up, and bang on every door,” She jokes, “It can’t be that hard. I’m supposed to be at school today, and Ryan was going to ask me out to homecoming.”

I’m not sure if she’s actually being serious. I scrunch my eyebrows and turn, heading towards the door, “You either come or you don’t. Nobody’s forcing you; but I could use your help, Sybil.”

She follows closely behind, her fingers still texting away on her phone, and I really do contemplate taking it away. What will you do in a zombie apocalypse? Text your friends? No, you’re going to hunt for food, shelter up, and stay alive. In our case, we need to find Keenan, find Malakai, and get rid of this spell once and for all.

I hop into the car and turn the key in the engine. I own a shitty old BMW, but it works, and I’m not the materialistic type. I’ve had this car for nine years, and until it completely dies on me, I’m not getting a new one—and I’m completely okay with that. Sybil always bothers me to invest in a new car; I never listen. I could really snap my fingers and make it appear, with magic, but what’s the fun in that? I never enjoyed the convenience of magic; I’d rather feel the satisfaction of earning what I own.

Sybil slides in the passenger seat, slowly putting her phone down as she glances out the window.

We arrive at Gentle Blossom Motel about six minutes later. Salem is a small town; it doesn’t take long to get anywhere; and that’s mostly why I decided to stay here. The motel looks dusty, old, and worn down; but there are some cars in the parking lot, so I assume they do some business. The tourists most likely help keep them open. Then again, tourists keep this whole town open.

We park, and I jump out of my old sedan. I take in the scenery, the yellow bushes, naked trees, and crooked motel sign. Sybil starts walking toward the doors first, and didn’t bother taking in the beauty nature had to offer on the way in. I guess that’s the difference in generations, or maybe it’s just a side effect of aging. Either way, our minds are nothing alike.

As we enter the motel, we notice the smell of cleaning products and incense. Almost every single place of business here burns incense, I’m guessing to enhance the whole ‘witchy experience’ Salem has to offer.

The front desk is made of old wood, the carvings very intricate and fine. A lady sits at the desk, her eyeballs glued to the computer in front of her. It doesn’t look like this place upgraded a bit, the large backpiece to the computer blocking her lips. The screen light reflects off of her glasses as she bites her thin lip, humming a tune lightly.

She doesn’t look up at us once, not even when Sybil steps up to her and begins to speak.

“Hello,” Sybil starts, studying the woman. She doesn’t glance up, “Is there anybody by the name of Keenan Xenia here?”

“I cannot disclose that information, private policy,” the receptionist murmurs, still focused on whatever she’s typing on that god awful computer. That thing looks to be about a thousand years old.

Sybil sighs and with a wave of her hand, the woman suddenly makes eye contact. It seems like Sybil put this woman under some sort of spell. The receptionist smiles, and opens a drawer to her right. She pulls out a mustard-yellow notebook, filled with names, room numbers, and credit card information.

“Room 316, Keenan Xenia,” she says, cheerfully.

“We appreciate it, thank you,” Sybil responds, backing up and moving in the direction of the stairs.

I never knew Sybil could use her magic so flawlessly, it almost seemed effortless. And she didn’t even say the chant, she drew upon the energy and manifested it. I wonder where she learned it from. I say nothing as I join her in the elevator.

The floor jerks suddenly before we start to move. The walls of the elevator are covered in cheap, plastic mirrors, and the buttons don’t even light up anymore. Back in high school and college, this was the place people would stay—and they’d consider it luxury. Now, it’s run down and smells like elderly people.

As the doors open, a gust of air pushes our hair back. The AC must be running on a hundred, which is weird because it’s rather cold outside. It’s like they’re pushing even colder air into an already freezing building.

We shuffle down the hallway until we get to room 316. I hesitate before I knock.

It takes a while, but the door handle shakes before it turns. My brother opens the door, his brown hair now shaved off, and his face goes pale. He’s gotten skinnier since I’ve last seen him; his blue tee-shirt stained with god only knows what.

“Kennan--,” I start, before he shuts the door in my face.