Humans Bite Back

Soon after, an argument had ensued between Finn, and another woman I could only assume was her partner Petra; though I did my best to eavesdrop, sleep won me over.

My dreams had been vague and broken, and when I awoke in the morning, I was disappointed that I had not experienced the sharp vision I had when I was comatose.

I shrugged off my disappointment as I began to wiggle my toes and stretch my limbs to prepare for getting out of bed.

My body was sore, and my knees and elbows ached, so I carefully lifted myself into a sitting position before attempting to swing my legs out of bed. I shed my blanket and realized that my shirt was soaked with sweat. I stripped off the graphic tee that didn’t belong to me and tossed it aside.

My calves cramped, and my limbs ached, but I was in desperate need of a toilet. I didn’t feel comfortable walking around Aunt Finn’s house half-naked and thought about retrieving my soiled shirt when I spotted a silky pink robe hanging from a peg on the back of the door, using the bedside table for support.

I hoisted myself into a sitting position, crab-walked my way over to the door, and raised the robe from the peg. My bladder revolted as my need to urinate became urgent.

The fabric was smooth and cool against my skin, and the feeling was not unpleasant. I knotted the belt around my waist. Once I was decent, I threw open the door and began making my way down the hall in search of a bathroom.

There was a door only a few feet away from the door that I had just exited. It was wide open, signaling that the room was unoccupied, so I made my way towards it.

I was rewarded when I saw that the room contained a toilet. I hurried inside to empty my bladder and splash some water on my face. While patting my face dry, I examined my reflection in the mirror.

I had pale skin that I had inherited from my mother, but the rest of my genetic makeup was inherited from my father. My dark hair made me appear washed out, even a bit sickly, and my large brown eyes had a habit of looking haunted.

I had become accustomed to my face looking a bit thin, but I decided I looked a bit ghoulish upon appraisal. There was a dark cast beneath my eyes, and though I had only missed a couple of meals, my cheeks looked sunken in, and my lips were dry and shriveled. I decided it was high time to locate the kitchen before any more of my coveted fat was lost.

I had not visited my Aunt Finn since I was a tiny child; I had recalled her home being overwhelming, filled with color and exciting aesthetics.

As I moved from room to room, I noted that nothing had changed except my perception. As a small child, I had believed that Aunt Finn lived in a giant castle filled with curiosities; though the house remained curious, it was pretty average in size.

Though the walls were painted an eggshell white, it did nothing to tone down the rich colors of the plush furnishings that filled the room. Though most people would have felt overwhelmed by the bursts of color, I felt strangely comforted as I thought of the neutral shades of the house I had shared with my father.

Adjacent to the living room was a pair of French doors that had been carelessly thrown open, and it was beyond that doorway that I heard movement, so I made my way across the threshold into the next room.

I entered the kitchen. It was homey, with a long butcher-block table, an island countertop, a stove, and a refrigerator. It would have replicated any other kitchen in America if not for the herbs strung up to dry and the odd smell emanating from the boiling pots on the stovetop.

I made my way to the pots in hopes of discovering food but was disappointed when I found that the pots were fashioned with filters used in the production of healing potions and ointments.

I was just inspecting the rear pot on the burner when I heard a gasp from behind me. “Bishop, what are you doing out of bed,”

Surprised, I snapped my head in the direction to find where the voice had originated. The sudden movement caused my head to spin. I clapped my hands around my head in hopes of collecting myself. I felt my knees buckle as my body swayed.

Aunt Finn was quick on her feet, and her reflexes were cat-like because just as I felt myself falling helplessly to one side, she was there in a flash to steady me. She shot a worried look at the stove as she said, “Let’s get you away from these potions.”

I nodded as I allowed her to guide me to one of the chairs surrounding her kitchen table. I helped myself to a seat and cradled my head in my hands as I waited for the sensation to pass.

Now that what could have been a catastrophe was avoided, she swayed back on the balls of her feet and wiped at her forehead with the back of her hand. “I didn’t mean to frighten you,” she apologized, “but if you had disturbed anything on that stovetop, Chernobyl would have seemed like a best-case scenario.”

“If that stuff is hazardous, then why is it in the house?” I started to doubt that the decision to live with Aunt Finn was wise. Seeming to be unfettered, Finn shrugged, “In a few more minutes, it will be safe to handle,”

Turning her attention back to me, she put her hands on her hips and furrowed her brow into a scowl as she repeated her inquiry, “What are you doing up and out of bed?”

“I need to use the bathroom, then I realized I was hungry,” I told her simply.

Finn glanced at the large clock suspended above the oven when I said that. “Oh, dear lord, I lost track of time,” she gave me an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Bishop, I should have woken you sooner and offered you something to eat,” before she finished her sentence, she rushed over to the fridge, pulled it open, and began shuffling through its contents. “Perhaps you would like some eggs or some oatmeal….”

My stomach grumbled with impatience signaling its impatience. “You don’t happen to have just plain old cereal, would you?”

Finn raised her eyebrows. “I think Petra has a box of bran flakes around here somewhere,” she told me as she closed the fridge and began pawing through the cabinets in search of cereal. She located a box of raisins and bran flakes.

“I don’t suppose she would mind sharing,” she said as she pulled a bowl from the dish drainer and began to fill it with flakes.

“You mentioned that Petra was your partner,” I said as Finn placed the bran flakes in front of me and began to pour milk over them, “How did you guys meet?”

The corner of Finn’s lips turned upward as she began to talk about Petra, “Well, Petra is a ginger, just like me, so naturally she was placed in The Fire Crotch Coven.”

I couldn’t help pulling a face at the mention of her coven’s name. I knew it was juvenile to have icky feelings about a word. The word itself wouldn’t bother me if it were not being used in association with one of my family members.

“Isn’t having a coven comprised of exclusively red-heads a bit discriminatory?” I ventured.

“I guess it seems like strange criteria,” Finn admitted, “But people born with red hair possess mutations that gift them with unique abilities. This doesn’t only apply to the magical world, but the human one as well,”

“I guess I’ll have to google it sometime….” I said, but then something occurred to me. I most likely lost my phone in the blast.

As if she read my mind, Finn intervened, “You can look up whatever you want after Petra picks up your phone from the shot. The screen was damaged, so I’m having it replaced,”

The screen had been badly cracked before the explosion, but I doubted Aunt Finn needed to know that.

“Is there something I need to know about Petra?” I asked carefully. “The only reason I am asking is that last night you mentioned something about her being human again, and shortly after, I heard strange sounds outside my window. Do I have anything to worry about?”

Finn threw back her head and gave out a hearty howl of amusement. “No, at least not most of the time,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Petra’s been shifting a lot lately and spending her days scouring around the neighborhood and confusing the poor tomcats.”

“So, you guys really can shift into cats,” I stated, feeling dumbfounded.

“I have forgotten that you lacked a female influence in your life,” Finn said, “Perhaps we can remedy that,” she gave me a coy smile as she added, “You have so much to learn.”

Her tone was mysterious, and I had to wonder if maybe my ignorance had been bliss.

“Well, there is something you should know about warlocks,” I told her, “We can’t perform magic. The only reason I mention this is because I don’t want you to waste your time trying to teach me.”

Finn sniffed, “Not all magic is above your abilities,” she told me. “Anyone with a touch of magic is capable of botanical magic,”

“The elders never told us that,” I told her.

“Oh, the elders have always been a bit misogynistic; they believe botanical work is woman’s work…What did the elders teach you, may I ask?”

I shrugged, “Nothing really; they often just dragged us to the convention hall and spent hours arguing over who should be named Grandmaster.”

Aunt Finn rolled her eyes, “I swear that warlocks were cursed with giant egos,” she muttered, then covered her mouth, “I’m sorry, I keep forgetting…” she threw her hands up helplessly, “I usually don’t speak so harshly about the dead. I guess I haven’t accepted the fact that they are all gone; it just seems so surreal.”

“It’s going to take some getting used to,” I told her; I was about to say more, but I peered over her shoulder and noticed some movement on the stove behind her. “I think your pots are boiling over.”

Finn jumped up from her seat and rushed over to the stove to turn off the burners.“Why don’t you get dressed while I finish up here?” Aunt Finn suggested as she began transferring the pots from the stove so they could cool. “You can accompany me to the garden, and I can teach you a few botanical spells.”

I glanced down at the silk robe I was wearing. “I don’t have any clothes to change into,” I reminded her.

Aunt Finn put down the wooden ladle she had been stirring with and pressed a palm against her forehead. “I was supposed to take you to retrieve some of your things today,” she said absently and then gazed at the liquids that had begun emanating a strong odor.

“I can loan you something in the meantime,” Finn offered. She paused at the door, “Don’t go near the stove,” she cautioned me, “No matter what you hear, I’ll be back in a jiff.”

“Not a problem,” I said honestly, having no desire to go near the smelly pots. I was tempted to return to the cabinet to help myself to more bran flakes, but then I heard something that made me lose my appetite.

“Help us,” a tiny voice pleaded. It was so faint that I almost dismissed it as an auditory delusion, but then another voice chimed in, “Yes, please help us!”

I recoiled in my seat and stared at the pots in abject horror. When Finn had warned me not to go near the stove, I had assumed that it had been meant for my own safety, but after hearing the tiny voices, I realized that her intentions may not have been that wholesome.

I glanced down the hall, wondering if I should call Aunt Finn back into the room. That was when a desperate voice, eerily childlike, raised a few octaves above the rest. “Please help us before it’s too late.”

I knew better than to rush to disembodied voices, but my curiosity was getting the better of me. I had just worked up the nerve to approach the stove when Finn returned to the kitchen, brandishing a grey sweatsuit.

“You’re a bit thin, so I had to dig through Petra’s closet,” she said, offering me the pile of fabric. I accepted the clothing wordlessly; Finn must have seen something in my expression because her eyes narrowed, and she shot a suspicious glance at the stove.

“You hurry along now,” she ordered, “I have some things to attend to here.”

Though I felt conflicted, I knew better than to cross a witch. So I recited a silent apology to the voices that had cried out then hurried back to the bathroom to dress.

I was forced to go commando because I wasn’t about to ask my Aunt for an underwear loan, but I did borrow some deodorant from the medicine cabinet. Since I didn’t find a guest toothbrush, I put some paste on my index finger and rubbed it across my teeth.

My bedhead was more than acceptable; I couldn’t have done a better job of styling it if I had tried. Once I was satisfied with my appearance, I exited the bathroom and returned to the kitchen.

When I returned to the kitchen, I was relieved to see that the stovetop was bare. The outside door in the kitchen had been left open, and I assumed that Finn had gone out to the garden.

I stepped outside, closing the door behind me.

Aunt Finn had a sizeable property, so large that it boasted several gardens, a greenhouse, and a shed. I made my way over to the greenhouse, where I knew I would find Finn.

Aunt Finn emerged with a bucket and a watering spout as I drew near. “Bishop,” she greeted me, “I thought I was going to have to come to fetch you.”

“I wanted to clean up a little,” I told her. I was about to inquire as to what she was doing, but the hairs on the back of my neck began to stand up on end. I had the chilling suspicion that we were being watched.

My eyes scanned the grounds searching for an animal that may have found its way into the garden in search of food; it wasn’t until I raised my gaze that I found the culprit.

A row of sunflowers appeared to be watching us; their heads swiveled in opposition to their natural growth as if they were blankly staring at us. I cocked my head in confusion, but Aunt Finn was undeterred. She waved her hands in their direction. “Shoo, mind your own business, you nosy things.”

One by one, the sunflowers reluctantly turned back and raised their faces to the sun. One sunflower lingered a bit longer than the others. Finn acknowledged the flowers gazing at us but seemed unconcerned as she said, “Our lesson will commence over here.”

I glanced back over my shoulder at the sunflowers as I followed her and saw that they had lost interest in us and recommitted to their sunbathing.

Aunt Finn led me to a row that appeared freshly tilled. I couldn’t help but wonder if this was the dirt in which those tiny voices in the pots had once resided. I shoved the thought out of my mind as Finn kneeled over the soil and motioned for me to join her.

My body was still sore and stiff, so I shuffled for a moment, deciding how to best manage my weight. Aunt Finn shot back up to her feet. “I’m so sorry,” she apologized, throwing her arm across my back, and offering support.

I leaned on her gratefully as we lowered ourselves into the grass in unison. Once we were squatting side by side, Aunt Finn plucked a seed from the bucket beside her. She used her finger to poke a deep hole into the dirt and then dropped the seed inside the dirt grave and then immediately covered the hole by scooping dirt over it.

“Take the water and sprinkle some over the plant,” she commanded.

I did as I was told and then held up the spout in wait for further instruction. Finn reached over and retrieved the water spout from my hand. “Now cup your hand together and conjure up some energy, then entrap it in between your cupped palms,”

I attempted to do as she had instructed, but I had only learned to create by rubbing my fingers together, so I supposed that I could create the spark and then try to capture it in my palms.

Finn watched me in amusement. When my first attempt failed, she reached over and grabbed my hand to prevent me from making a second attempt. “Let me show you how to capture,” she offered.

She arranged my palms so that they were flat against each other, and she guided my hands so that they were gently rubbing together. “Now slowly separate them, and as you feel energy resist the palms, cup your hands to capture it, and create a ball.”

I was prepared for an impressive spark to light up between my hands, but it didn’t, though I could see a vibration in the air, and the resisting force naturally parted my hands. Instinctively, I closed my fingers and curbed them.

Soon enough, there was so much power between my wrists and fingertips that it felt like I was lugging around a small cannonball.

“I didn’t expect you to conjure so quickly,” Aunt Finn said, sounding mildly impressed. “Now lower your hands to the earth and create a dome over the area where we had planted the seedling.”

I did as she ordered, and as I held the energy igloo over the dirt, I could imagine the energy slipping down into the soil and making its way to the seed. The image in my mind was sharp as if I was watching it occur on high-definition television.

I watched as the seed split apart and exploded into several sprigs that immediately took root by clinging to the damp dirt in search of nutrients.

Soon enough, a stalk formed, brutally shoving aside the dirt in search of room to expand; when expansion didn’t happen horizontally, the vegetation began to crawl vertically through the earth as it began to break through the surface.

As soon as I envisioned this, I felt something poking at the palm of my hands; I spread out my fingers and discovered a sprout weaving through my fingers. As soon as the sun touched upon it, the head of the stem sprung a leaf.

I blinked, afraid that I had just imagined urging the little plant to spring from the ground, but it remained. I looked to Aunt Finn, expecting her to share in my joy, but her brow was furrowed.

“I did something wrong, didn’t I?” I said, releasing the plant in expectation of Finn plucking it from the ground and instructing me to start over again, but to my surprise, she just shook her head. “No, you did everything just right, perfect actually.”

I looked down at the plant, and though I was thrilled, Finn didn’t share in my delight; she wasn’t upset, but she did seem perplexed.

“Is something wrong?” I beseeched her. Finn looked at me, “No, I’m just surprised. I didn’t expect you to be such a quick study.”

“That makes two of us,” I told her, “Honestly, I was terrified of disappointing you.”

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with an apt pupil,” Finn shrugged and patted me on the back. “Well done, Bishop.”

I couldn’t help but beam with pride as my little sprout continued to thrive. We watched it spiral from the ground for a moment longer, and then Finn turned to me. “We should clean up and get ready to head over to your place,” she told me.

I had been loathing this moment, the thought of going back to my home knowing that my father would never be there again filled me with anxiety.

“Do we have to go today?” I asked her. “I don’t mind wearing women’s clothing, really actually that silk robe was quite nice.”

“You still need to pick out a personal item for your father’s Death Row,” she reminded me.

“I suppose there is that,” I sighed.

“You’ll be fine,” Aunt Finn promised as she brushed the dirt off her knees. “I have some things to attend to in the greenhouse. I’ll meet you inside.”

I nodded but remained in the garden as she disappeared into the greenhouse, closing the door behind her.

Once my aunt was out of hearing range, I gazed around the garden. “If any of you guys need help, speak up now or forever hold your peace.”

Though my concern was genuine, I was grateful when none of the plants replied.