Magic of the dead

It was only then, after having spent a half-day indoors, that I got a better look at the former vampire rebellion stronghold, which was a series of forsaken cabins surrounding a lake. Between them lay the rusty poles of long-ago volleyball fields, and in the water there were anchored halves of wooden boats.

Not much was needed to imagine that place as one of those summer camp kids visited before the era of social media. But what did set it a bit apart were the extremist-training type monkey bars which hung everywhere, and, for some reason, lines of trenches dug all around the campground. Questions were plenty, but at least one answer was given freely: the answer to why I had dreamed of world war one when arriving the night before – it was a true battleground. Also, the mud, which had dried on my clothes but not disappeared, was no longer a mystery

– the first step out of the cabin (the largest one) landed me ankle deep in stickiness.

I contemplated cursing, but as my once white sneakers were brown already, I let it slide and continued after Oliver (who was faster than he looked) as he headed toward the lake.

He started his lessons on the way, looking more practiced in hopping the trenches than I was.

"Elements like fire and water have played a part in magic since the dawn of time." he said, maneuvering a wooden beam to cross one of those ditches, "So, I think that's a good place to start. And water feels safer than fire."

I just shrugged, willing to take his word for it.

"Of course, it's impossible to say how your magic, if you have any, would differ from the magic of a non-vampire warlock. It'll be guesswork."

"Well. I can guess, at least."

He did not seem to hear my mumble, and we didn't talk again until we reached the lake.

Feeling still somewhat frigid and depressed, the lake looked quite appetizing. But I pushed the idea of a swim from my mind. Survival first, swimming second!

Oliver knelt, ankles in water and cupped a palmful. He looked at it kind of dreamily, maybe seeing something there I could not.

"Any magic in there?" I called jokingly.

Oliver turned abruptly, the stolen water dripping to re-join its brethren. My presence there seemed to surprise him, but he collected himself quickly.

"As I was saying... Elements. Come!" He waved me closer.

I got there and hunched over him.

He continued. "From what I've learned, magic isn't about saying spells, per se, it's more about connecting with what's around you." He stirred the water before him. "I think that's why one would think that vampires can not do magic. Because they are even further away from nature than humans."

"But you don't agree?"

"Hmm, I don't think it's only the nature that can give one power. Perhaps, one would just need to find the right things to focus on." He got back up. "But still, let's start with water. Kneel and put your hands in it."

I didn't really buy into that mambo-jumbo at all. Connecting with inanimate objects had never been something on my bucket list. But, it being too early to give up, I did follow the instructions.

"And now focus your mind on it. Try to look PAST the water."

I chuckled. "Really? Past it? That sounds like the stuff con artists say."

"They're bound to get some things right."

I sighed. "Alright."

And I did actually try to look past the water. I gave it quite the try. But even my desired for boundless magical power couldn't change the fact that the only thing PAST the water was dirt.

"Do you hear it?" Oliver asked, unaware of the comedy show he was putting on. "The water...? Does it speak to you?"

"Oh yeah! Big time."

Oliver missed my obvious sarcasm. "Good! Now, imagine yourself one with it."

"One as in...?"

"One with it. Imagine no skin and no mind. Connected. Unified. A force that controls and offers control."

I pulled my hand out of the water and stretched back up. "Yeah. I don't think this is happening."

Oliver looked confused. "But you hear it...?"

"I didn't hear jack. Have YOU heard of sarcasm?"

Oliver looked at me like a disappointed teacher would a student who never believed in himself. "Mm... I thought we were getting somewhere. You did try to look PAST the water?"

"Never tried harder at anything."

"Well, maybe water isn't the right element."

He walked out of the lake and I followed. We started heading somewhere else, but now Oliver matched my tempo instead of leading from far ahead.

"You are serious about this, aren't you? To learn witchcraft. So many would kill to even have a chance."

The question kind of stung. I hadn't been serious at all. Was I high again?

"I guess I expected this to be different." I glanced around the campsite, thinking through my experience. "This has all be unlike one would expect. And just two days ago I was a college student. Didn't know my uncle was a warlock, or that there were vampires or werewolves. Or that I would become one."

"This could be overwhelming, yes."

For a little while, we walked in silence. We seemed to be heading into the woods.

"Why do you think that is, that your family never told you about your heritage?" He asked as the cabins disappeared behind some thick bushes.

"Hell if I know... Do you really think it's all of them who are witches? Not just my uncle?"

"That's how I believe it to be. I could be mistaken."

I thought about my nephew Stephen and how he had been picking his nose (publicly) all through his teen years. That bastard was a warlock?

"Your parents," Oliver continued, "you don't know them?"

"Nope. Never seen them. Either one..."

Questions started to squeeze my brain.

"Do you think that's why they are dead? Some witch things?"

"I couldn't know."

The answer was kind of disappointing. For a moment there Oliver had started to look like a fountain of knowledge.

"How do you know so much about this stuff anyway?"

He shrugged. "I always wanted to be one, I guess. The supernatural draws me."

"But I'm sure Saul would turn you into a vampire if you wanted."

"Perhaps. But I don't think I'm ready to give up on the witchcraft yet." He stopped and smiled at me. "Prove to me that vamps can do magic, and I'll reconsider."

We had reached a small kumbaya campsite. In the center of it, there were moss covered rocks set in a circle and around them large logs half-rotten into the ground.

"I think this will be a good place to practice. It's known a lot of fire. Come on."

And Oliver knelt next to the ring and grabbed a handful of ashes. But instead of getting lost in them, as he had in the water, he let the ash blow out of his palm only a moment later.

I knelt next to him, intending to take this lesson a bit more seriously. "Don't we need fire to do fire magic?"

"Not if you can conjure one. Go ahead, grab the ash..."

"...And look through it." I mumbled the most likely conclusion to his sentence.

"Indeed."

He backed away, but his eyes almost scratched my body.

"Try to understand it." He mumbled. "Learn where it comes from and watch where it leaves to."

Staring at the ash, slowly, his words grew more windy-like and distant: he was like a voice at the back of my mind. "Look through it," he whispered, "discover it's secrets."

And then the ash in my hand started to glow. Quietly, it breathed itself more and more deep red. But I didn't feel alarmed. The fire was a presence. It was something that was separate from me, but also an integral part of my existence.

"Look into its heart," I could still hear Oliver, but he was so far away he might as well have not been around at all. "And show it yours..."

And the ash in my hand burst into flames. It cracked on my skin but did not hurt. And it pulled my eyes and let my mind sink. I was free-falling through eternity, but I was also carried and cared for.

And then I was behind glass. The campgrounds were just a memory. The trees and the dirt and the wind, they were no more.

And behind the glass, there was a woman. She had snow-white hair and ice-blue skin. Attached to her face she had golden rings and around her neck a bronze medallion. She was looking right at me, but through. And then she lifted her hand and her fingers touched the barrier between us. And with her fingers, she drew, gracefully and artistically, a horizontal line that was colored like the stars. And then a triangle, straight through the middle of the line.

Her work finished to perfection, she pulled her hand back, to her mouth, and blew toward the symbol a breath of diamond air. The lines started to multiply, crossing through and over each other, covering the invisible canvas with the deepest shades of light. And I could feel it: the heat of the mark she drew. It came closer, pulling toward me like iron to a magnet. And like melting metal, it burst into my face. The agony of the burn demanded from me shouts and screams, but I could not vocalize the pain. The hurt was contained within me and the exits were sealed. I was in darkness. Lost, never to be recovered.

"Thomas?" A distant, lovable voice called. It was a direction. It was a way out. "The hell did you do to him?"

And I opened my eyes. For the second time in two days, I woke up to Saul looking down at me. But this time he wasn't smiling.

"I don't know..." I heard Oliver explain, "I didn't do anything."

Saul waved him off, "Never mind."

He pulled me up.

I shook on my feet and I had that sense within me like I had just escaped a great tragedy. The symbol still burnt in my mind, but I was no longer lost. I wasn't part of that dark magic.

"So, did you pass out...? Or did you do magic?" Saul grinned, taking a seat on one of those rotten logs.

I shook my head, trying to rid my mind of the memory.

"I haven't the slightest. But it was weird."

"So something did happen?"

I shrugged. "Maybe, but I'm not about to repeat it." I turned to Oliver, finding his eyes intently on me. "What do you think? Maybe we should try a different element? How many more are there anyway?"

Saul interrupted. "That can wait. Pierce is back. I think we should hear what he has to say together... As I might kill him before he gets to repeat it."