Fate's Vinculum

Chapter 2.

After that experience, Astar had taken them under her wing. She explained to them that they appeared to be natural born white witches, pure witches with an affinity to nature and nothing but benevolence.

"Most practicing witches these days can barely hold a true seance," Astar had told them. "Many of them—myself included—study for years before they start to become powerful and able to do what most people think of when they hear the word 'magic'."

Astar was, unsurprisingly, a medium. As such, she guided the pair with their abilities of communicating with spirits. Trances, seances, and use of ouija boards became normal to them.

Astar, perhaps more importantly, taught them the art of shielding. This included the use of salt, candles, certain herbs, and use of pentagram icons to form barriers around themselves. She taught them powerful spells to go with it, which served as a reinforcement. These were a mixture of Gaelic and Latin, and it had taken them months to get the pronunciations correct, much less memorization of the spells themselves. After a few years, Astar felt she had taught them everything she could. So they had parted ways, though still remained acquaintances.

Vincent was content with his knowledge. Hakan, however, had recently begun to dabble in clairvoyance. So far he had mixed results. He had reached out to Astar for guidance.

"Practice makes perfect," she had told him, a bit bemused at his want to branch out.

Thus he had bought himself books on the subject, and the appropriate items to help amplify his abilities; various herbs, crystals, incense, along with tarot cards.

Reading tarot seemed to be a weakness for him. He found his results were better when he relaxed and opened himself to the idea of fortune telling. Even so, he largely felt like he didn't know what he was doing.

So now he sat in their bedroom, clearing his mind as he shuffled the deck. Once he naturally felt they were in their proper place, he opened his eyes and began pulling cards.

First pulled was the Knight of Swords. Hakan put that down on the folding table. Then he drew Death, putting it on the table. Hakan pulled his third card, and his breath caught in his chest—staring up at him was another Knight of Swords.

That wasn't possible. Every deck held only one card of each arcana. He only had one deck, so the possibility that two decks had accidentally intermingled was impossible.

Taking a deep breath, he put the card down on the table. He then pulled the next card. Panic hit him when it was another Death. Hakan put it on the table and drew the next, and then the next, and the next, until he was frantically drawing cards and slamming them down on the table.

Knight of Swords, Death. Knight of Swords, Death. Knight of Swords, Death. Bewildered, heart hammering in his chest, Hakan flipped the deck over and fanned them out. Every card staring back were those two cards, over and over again.

Yelping, Hakan flailed, trying to scramble to his feet. Instead all he managed to do was upend the table, accidentally flinging the entire deck of cards in every direction. Now on his backside, he blinked profusely. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple. Then, he felt a wetness on his upper lip. Assuming it to be sweat, he rubbed it off; instead of clear sweat, his hand came away with blood. He dabbed it again; his nose was bleeding.

It was then it dawned on him he had knocked the candles over. In a panic he lunged into the large box of supplies. Frantically he tore it apart, looking for one specific thing.

"Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit!"

Grabbing a towel, he threw it on the candles, successfully snuffing out the small flames. Panting, Hakan sat, trying to collect himself. With a trembling hand, he reached out and took up one of the tarot cards.

Staring back at him was The Devil.

Hakan let out a sigh of relief and picked up another. It was The Lovers. Glad it was over, Hakan picked everything up that was strewn about, tossing it back into the box. Normally he would have put everything carefully away; now he just wanted to be done with it. Proper clean up could happen after work, and after a call to Astar on his lunch break.

Once everything was put away and tucked back under the bed, he padded his way to the bathroom. After he had relieved himself, washed his hands, brushed his floppy brown hair, and brushed his teeth, he splashed cold water on his face. Feeling calmer, Hakan made his way to the kitchen.

"How'd it go?" Vince asked with a smile, handing Hakan a thermos of coffee.

Hakan hesitated, taking the drink. "Odd."

Vince furrowed his brow. "Odd? What's that mean?"

"I don't know," Hakan replied with a shrug.

Vincent gently cupped the side of Hakan's face. "Are you okay? You've been kinda weird all morning."

Hakan smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. "I'm fine. I have to get to work. And so do you."

The pair wrapped their arms around each other, kissing. After a long while Hakan opened his eyes, smiling at his husband.

"If you keep kissing me like that I'm never going to make it to work on time."

Vincent chuckled, briefly pressing his forehead to Hakan's. He then grabbed Hakan's motorcycle helmet from off the kitchen table, giving it to him. Vincent smiled back, planting a quick kiss on Hakan's cheek.

"I'll see you tonight," Vincent said.

"See you," Hakan replied happily, shouldering his black backpack that held his briefcase, lunch, and a pair of dress shoes. "Love you."

"Drive safe!"

Hakan rolled his eyes, putting on his black helmet. "I always do...oh wait, I almost forgot!"

Hakan reached into his pocket, removing a small satchel. Vince caught it. Then he looked at Hakan in confusion.

"Protection spell."

Vincent looked even more confused. Smiling, Hakan patted his pocket where his own bag of crystals and herbs sat. "It's been a weird morning."

Without giving another thought, Hakan left the apartment and made his way down the stairs to the parking lot of his apartment complex. Upon opening the door, he already wished it wasn't so hot out. It was only 7:30AM but it already felt like a million degrees. He wasn't looking forward to sitting in the usual morning traffic.

Roughly 15 minutes later, Hakan sat fully upright, adjusting his riding gloves. Sure enough, the 110 was a mess. As he sat, waiting for traffic to inch along, his mind wandered to the events of the morning. It seemed surreal.

"No," he muttered to himself, "it all definitely happened..."

As traffic picked up speed and Hakan entered L.A., there was a blinding flash of light suddenly. At first he thought the early morning sunlight somehow caught his helmet visor. However, he slowed his bike and then stopped completely along with the rest of traffic, his jaw dropping open. For a moment he stared in disbelief at what he saw. Once the initial shock wore off he abruptly turned his bike around, speeding as fast as he could away from the city.

The flash of light had been pink. It was some sort of explosion, though from what he couldn't imagine. He had started fleeing when he saw every building explode, followed by a shock wave that was tearing up the ground with it. People were abandoning their cars, running away from what was coming.

Hakan, who participated in drag races regularly (much to the endless worry of his husband), deftly weaved in and out of people and car doors that had been left open. For a split second he looked over his shoulder, the rumbling behind him getting louder and louder. Crestfallen, Hakan realized he would not be able to escape what was coming.

Sure enough, seconds later, something hit his back and he was thrown forward off his bike. He screamed, his entire body temporarily feeling on fire. Hakan hit the ground, tumbling and skidding head over feet. Then he blacked out.