Cursed Times - Only Yesterday! Sequel to Wattys 2015 winner!

Chapter 37: Trueth - Woodbound

End of previous chapter:

'What is this place? Where are we?'

'I do not know,' Seisi said. 'But methinks we have some explanations to do first.' He turned around and pointed at the mutinous group of the Avebury witches.

***

'I want you to explain to me what this shit is all about. Now.' The landlord of the 'Whacky Bramble' was glowering at her from under his bushy brows.

Trueth decided a strategic retreat was in order and moved backwards a few steps. The guy was obviously working out a lot, the muscles in his arms were straining the cucumber design on his borrowed terrycloth dressing gown into elongated smudges of green. His legs, spread in an aggressive stance, were the size of beer kegs. Very hirsute ones at that. Kegman threw Trueth's blanket at her feet, whisked around and stabbed his digit at Damian. 'This is all your fault, always messing with things better left alone. I don't care for this magical crap. You're all fooling yourselves.'

'So why are you here with us, then?' Myrtle asked, massaging her temples.

Trueth could watch her no longer, she walked across, pressed two fingers to one side of Myrtle's head and shared some power.

Her former landlady dropped her hands, her mouth forming a big round 'o'. 'You're the real McCoy, aren't you?'

'It's Deveril, actually. Trueth Deveril.' Trueth sketched a bow. 'I registered my name correctly when we checked in at your establishment.'

'Will you stop this bullshit!' The landlord stomped across and grabbed Trueth by the sleeve of her pyjama top, nearly ripping the fabric. 'I want answers!'

Seisi moved closer to Trueth like a second shadow and pointed at the furry nether regions of her attacker. 'Your privates are showing, pray cover yourself good man.'

Sniggering erupted behind them.

The publican gazed down his front, went beetroot red in the face, veins bulging on his temples. He did, however, remove his meaty paws off Trueth's pyjama and balled them into fists. 'I will show you something, raghead.' Without further ado, the landlord charged Seisi.

He, however, just rose into the air, floated above the head of his attacker and landed behind him. 'Note that my head is not clad in any cloth, ragged or otherwise. I also believe you might be going entirely in the wrong direction. In the meantime, your privates are still on display and I do not consider them to be a pretty sight.'

A general outburst of mirth followed his words, sprinkled with applause.

Trueth got slightly worried for Seisi and kept tracking their nemesis who was stumbling over the grass, carried along by his momentum. The landlord stopped in his tracks and turned around slowly. His mouth was open as well, yet he made no comment. He appeared to be surprised by her companion's magical aerobatics. But how could he have missed Seisi free--floating in front of a cliff face?

'I told you, Jack,' Damian said from the side. 'You never listen to me. There are magical beings left, even if not many. The friend of these two was one of them. I would be a bit more careful if I was you, and not insult this young man. He's pretty powerful, even if he doesn't show it.'

The landlord was trying to keep the front of his dressing-gown closed. He did not quite succeed. 'Who are you?' His voice had come down a few decibels, but he still sounded alarmingly like an enraged bull.

'I'm Seisi, Son of Thutra. Priest of the fourth rank, serving the sun god Ra.' Seisi inclined his head, albeit only briefly.

'No shit, is that true? You're one of the Egyptian Wiccans?' The girl from the souvenir shop, dressed in a pretty tulle dressing gown over an embroidered nightshirt, pushed to the front. The uneven lawn made her stagger in her high-heeled feathery mules. 'I always wanted to meet one of you guys!'