(Shall We Dance)
Paul’s house, a tranquil ranch, was nestled in the serene embrace of the dense forests to the northeast of Tennessee. It was in Sullivan County, on the upper northeastern side, very close to the border with southern Virginia. Most of Paul’s property was in Tennessee proper, but if they wanted to take a small hike back through the woods north, welcome to southern Virginia, as that is where you would be. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine, and the only sound was the gentle rustling of leaves and the distant, soothing chirping of winter birds.
As they rode in Paul’s new Jeep Grand Cherokee, their hearts were not just racing with anticipation for the extraordinary celebration at Villanova Creek but also with a mix of excitement and nervousness. This was no ordinary event. Sitting in the passenger seat next to Paul driving, Char Le Maine, seated in the back seat, was impassive. They were all lost in their thoughts, the tension in the air adding to the thrill of what was to come. Paul, sensing their unease, was explaining the complexities of his family, trying to ease their minds.
He said, “Knowing who everyone is will be a plus, Ridley, as you will know what to expect. The profound depths of dysfunction in my family are something. So try not to let them get to you, and some will. You can be sure of that.” His words hung in the air, leaving Ridley with a sense of intrigue and a hint of unease about what he was about to encounter.
He drove them North into Virginia, their destination. Before leaving the Villanova area, Pal said it was across the state’s lines, on the backside of a country bordering Tennessee and covering around half of Sullivan County's border. The skies had recently opened and dropped some snow. It was a breathtaking mountainous terrain, and Paul took his time navigating it. It was mainly powdery, plus Paul was a good driver, so they steadily made their way. He turned the heat up and smiled at Ridley, who was enjoying the awe-inspiring scenery. Say what you like about this region. Those who made fun of it are fine—one thing you could not deny around it. The scenery was beautiful, snow-covered with the backdropped mountains.
Char Le Maine said from the backseat, “I like your new contraption, Paul, yes. It is a very nice one. The leather seats are a nice touch and a smooth ride. Imagine what that new car smell is like to my kind, no?” He still looked to Ridley like a pale-skinned, handsome man in costly clothing. He was seated in the backseat's center, exuding his usual sense of grace and importance.
Paul looked at him in the rearview momentarily. The notion they could not be seen in them was a fabrication. Paul said, “My father’s name was Barry, and he was married to a woman, Estelle. My mom and dad were good people. It’s a shame they are gone. My father owned a construction company, which was physically hard on him. He passed fourteen years ago, and it does not seem that long. He was a decent, honest man who mostly went through the world. He was highly respected up here. Sure, I wish he was still with us. I would dearly love to go fishing with him again.”
He eased the jeep off the backroad onto a state highway, “My mother, and what man, unless they are abusive, is not a momma’s boy? The family she came from was the Murrin’s. They were high school sweethearts, and they married right after graduation. They were together all that time. If there were a contest for the best person of our time, she would have been a strong contender. Father had little aptitude for the mystical, but Mom was a potent witch.”
Ridley told him, “I am sorry you lost them. Know what that is like.”
Char Le Maine asked, “Ce qui s’est passe’, Mon Ami’?”
Ridley was good with languages; he had just asked in French what had happened. It was not a subject he had little joy in discussing. He said, “When I was three, a drunk driver decided they needed to hit their vehicle and kill them more than I would need them.” He had only the most rudimentary memories of them. He had never really got to know them at all.
The Vampire in the car, which Ridley thought would be a spiffy name for a rock band. He looked thoughtful, “I am so sorry, young Ridley. Here I am in perpetuation until the final death finds me in some fashion. Then you lose them in such a fashion. Mon Dieu! A horror, to be sure.”
Paul drove down the state highway and said, “I only ever knew my Gramps and Mamaw from Dad’s side. My grandfather held the seat I do and have been preparing you for a long time. They were of the finest quality amongst people. Unfortunately, my mother’s parents were not very discerning in how they handled their witchcraft. It caused a great deal of mayhem. Gramps was the one who had to deal with them. It always haunted him that it went that way.”
Char Le Maine said from the backseat, “A difficult task, to be sure, but Barry Rogers was just as responsible as you, Paul. I so see his echoes whenever we speak. He would have been quite proud of you, I think.”
Paul went on, “No jokes about this, Ridley. He is sensitive about it. I have a younger brother named Kenny and a younger sister named Donna Castle, who is a bit older than him. She is where the problems begin, as usual. She is a witch and a Grade-A bitch to go along with it. She is Victor’s mother, so be wary of her. Witches pose little danger to wizards, but she is deceptively clever.”
Ridley grinned. He had a brother named Kenny Rogers, who must have been mocked like crazy in school. His iPhone was sitting in the Jeep’s sound system holder. He quickly searched and started the music software on it to play Kenny Rogers' greatest hits. The song “Lady” began playing, sounding good on this sound system. Paul looked sideways at him, grinning, wondering how often he had done such a thing.
Char Le Maine’s mimicry kicked in. “Ah, did you just stop by to see what condition my condition was in? My young friend, I have also seen The Big Lebowski.” Ridley turned his head back to him, looking amused. He mimicked again and said, “Walter, when will you face the facts, man? You are a fucking idiot!”
Paul and his apprentice both laughed at this. If you did not find that movie funny, book an appointment to seek help. Paul went on, my witch/bitch of a sister married a man named Harold Murrin, who was also distantly related to and whose father was my Mamaw’s son. The world is stranger than fiction; no wonder they are batshit crazy? They, in kind, turned out to be Victor, a Murrin by all rights. People used to use wordplay on the name, so he went to court and changed it to Castle. He even got my sister to do the same thing. Yes, they called him Victor Moron, might have been right.”
They were almost there, and there were pickup trucks and SUVs galore, and traffic had slowed. Ridley was curious and asked, “So why the dance, Paul? Char Le Maine?”
Char Le Maine, “This is a holiday at the beginning of February that dates to the pagans of Europe. The Gaelic and Germanic tribes mostly celebrated it. It has several names, but anyone with self-respect calls it Candlemas.”
They made it through the traffic and began looking for a parking place. He said, “That leaves the root of the source of the problem. My nephew/cousin Victor Castle is not a very good person and wants nothing but power. He is a mage as we are, but not as powerful as I am. I have had to show him this more than once. You, my Apprentice, are not quite ready for him, so don’t fall for that and make that mistake.”
They pulled into a parking place in a field with three giant red-painted barns. When Paul turned the vehicle off, one could hear bluegrass music coming from them. It was loud and sounded like live bands.
Paul turned to him, “Now, Victor married an older woman. Her name is Glady; she was initially a Jordan. They own several hardware and building supply stores in the area. Of course, it was just for the money. He has a young man. They have a houseman named Johnny Temple, and you can put quotes about that. He is eighteen or nineteen and was a nursing student in a clinical outreach program at ETSU. He has the mage blood, too, and Victor recognizes it. Victor’s tastes run too well. I will say the exotic if he gives you any trouble, it would be unwise. You can handle Johnny, my Apprentice, but it is best to be wary of him. My brother Kenny, who you just turned off there, is a Mage as well, but he does not want to have anything to do with the mystical. He can be standoffish but is okay.”
Char Le Maine said, “Antonio Seville, Victor is a son of a bitch.”
Paul explained, “Antonio used to be one of Char Le Maine’s bound that he turned. They have not been friends since. I know he is here, Renault. I can sense him. He will mind his manners on this night, or I am going to crack all their damned heads. Let’s go have some spiked punch and watch them dance.”
They got out, and their heavy coats were needed. With the wind chill, it was -15 F in these mountains. The three walked to the central barn, and apparently, there was some social order up there. As they crunched through the snow, the music got louder. They entered through a small door someone had cut out for and framed. It was nice and warm here. Several fires were in offset fireplaces, and several barrels were placed strategically. The smoke went straight up and vented out of a venting pipe someone had run.
It was not quite what Ridley had expected. A big wooden dance floor was laid out. Over in the corner, a bandstand was set up, and some guys were playing the heck out of bluegrass music. There were all kinds of seating, where people could sit in rows or sit close and talk. In the opposite corner from the bandstand were several tables set up with snack foods and desserts, and one guy was labeling a purple liquid into glasses. They seemed to be turned upside down and lying on towels if not used.
Paul leaned close and talked loudly to hear, “There's no magic to the purple stuff. It’s grape juice mixed with white lightning moonshine. They call it purple passion. Help yourself. I must drive, so I am not drinking. As Ridley and Char Le Maine, remaining close to him, went over to get some, a guy that just looked like Paul other than he was a bit younger and shorter came, and they talked. He and Char Le Maine got in line for a glass of the purple stuff. The wooden dance floor was entirely made up of square-dancing people. Ridley had never seen it live till now.
He was up and got a cup of juice from the one-eyed, one-horned, flying purple people eater. He had run across that song on YouTube one day. He took a drink, expecting it to burn, but it went smoothly. The way it worked here was that they would dance a round, and then they and the band would take a break for a half hour and start again.
All here seemed to know Char Le Maine, but several came over and shook hands with him. He was not unfriendly but was glad he had gotten his flu shot and Covid booster. It didn’t take a couple of cups of that stuff to go a long way. The round was over, and people began to mingle. Paul was headed over to a group of people with some seats elevated a bit on the back wall. It elevated them above everyone else.
In the center of that was Paul's family-banging nephew/cousin. He had an older woman with him on one side and a young man on the other. He went and stood beside his Master along with Char Le Maine. Others stayed clear of this area. Ridley was on his third cup of his purple people-eating juice. He was buzzed out of this world. He walked confidently anyway to stand beside his Master.
Victor Castle, looking down at him, centered his gaze on Ridley. The family resemblance was uncanny, no wonder, with his lineage. He was not as tall as Paul or as old, but he was a relative of Paul’s that was apparent.
Victor said, still staring at Ridley, “Well if it is not the new heir apparent. I have to say, cousin, it was a shit thing to do, but you do have good taste. Oh, that one will be powerful. His aura is perhaps the strongest I have ever seen.”
The young man, Ridley, who he assumed must be Johnny Temple. He was looking at Paul’s apprentice as if he were a hungry predator. He did not say anything, but he did stare. The Apprentice was not intimidated and looked right back.”
Paul said, “No, Victor, what is shitty is tampering with my car when it was not at the house. I would not be trying that again if I were you. You might find it quite an electrifying experience.” Victor’s wife looked like a darn witch. She had a big nose and long black hair; the only way she favored Paul was in her eyes. She was smoking a cigarette and blowing the smoke everywhere.
Victor told Paul, “I would look after that one if I were you; these mountains can be treacherous.” He smiled as he said this.
Paul told him, “That would be unfortunate because then I would have to pour water onto Glady’s and watch her melt. What do you say, Gladys? Awful cold outside for a broom ride, isn’t it?” She just stared and did not reply. She knew the kinds of forces Paul could throw, and he had that fucking Vampire with him that could bench-press Superman’s face.
Victor leaned forward and said, “You just need to do what is right. Put me back in the chain to succeed you. Take your handsome schoolboy off it. By right, it is my seat, and you know it.”
Paul said, “The seat goes to who the ring holder designates. You are unfit; you are a murderer and a pervert. I took an oath to serve the greater good. You are nothing but a pool of moral hazard. Come at me again, or mess with my Apprentice, and I will mop up the floor with your two cronies. It is that simple. You had better believe it.”
They walked away from them, and the dancing started again. Ridley was talking fly fishing with the younger clone of his Master, Jimmy. He was likable and had introduced his two sons. Carl Lee, and Tony Ray. As this round of dancing went on, the troublemakers had been busy. As it ended, Ridley did not feel the magic until it had hit him, the alcohol, of course. He suddenly had an uncontrollable compulsion.........Oh, no!
He dropped to one knee before Paul’s brother and began singing.
“Lady, I’m your knight in shining armor, and I love you.
You have made me what I am, and I am yours.
My Love, there are so many ways I want to say I love you.
Let me hold you in my arms forever more.
You have gone and made me such a fool.
I’m lost in your love.
And oh........we belong together.
Won’t you believe in my song?”
Everyone was staring; Kenny, sensitive to magic, knew what was happening. The three village idiots on their self-made thrones were embarrassing him. Paul walked beside Ridley, put his hand on his shoulder, chanted, and batted the enchantment away. Everyone was laughing in the barn, and Paul waived his hand with a chant and time for everyone but himself, Ridley, and the three offenders in the back of the barn.
He looked meanly at Victor and shouted, “In the name of the greater good, I will crater you now! I told you not to touch him!”
He quickly deployed a magical shielding as all three of their quick-cast sucker punch spells crashed into it with little effect. He chanted, and the room got much colder as he pulled the heat out to power his bolt of powerful mystical lightning. He shot from both his outstretched hands and hit the center of the little platform they had erected to sit upon. It splinted apart and sent all three spiraling out on the floor. Then he quickly halted the splintered wood, so no one got hit. It all stopped and fell to the ground.
When finished, he told Char Le Maine, “Grab him, will you? I have had enough of this place.” It took him thirty-five minutes to return home and park in the garage.
Ridley stumbled in and felt/sat down on the couch. Paul came in and had a cup of coffee he had made and sat down in his chair with it. Char Le Maine gave them some alone time and set out to locate his progeny, Seville. Holding a grudge was one thing. Hanging with that kind of trash was quite another.
Ridley said drunkenly, “Did I get on one knee and sing the lyrics to “Lady’ to your brother, Kenny Rogers?”
Paul said yes, “They pooled resources, and the witch was able to enchant you temporarily.”
His Apprentice said, “Oh, my word, how embarrassing.”
His Master said, “Don’t worry; I clouded their minds when I suspended time in that area for a short time. Those that remember, I will tell you, were joking.”
Ridley said, “I know what would make me feel better. Take me upstairs and make love to me. I want to suck your dick and for you to fuck me.”
Paul said, “You’re drunk.”
His Apprentice asked, “Are you going to let that stop you?”
His Master grinned and said, “Not one damn bit.”
As he carried Ridley up the stairs, the Apprentice said, “I just stopped in to see what condition your dick’s condition was in.”
Soon, they were naked in bed, and his Master was lying on top of him and kissing him. They took their time, and Paul was a good lover. It was a skill that Ridley was learning from him as well. Ridley had his arms around him, hugging him. The Master decided to enchant his apprentice differently. He kissed and licked his way downwards to his hard dick. He took him into his mouth and began teasing him a bit.
Ridley moaned, “Master, that is feeling so good. You were not kidding around with your brother’s-sister’s-cousin’s-aunt’s-that somehow is your cousin. Is that sister crazy?”
Him Master continued to work on his current task. Paul went for about ten minutes and slid up the bed. He said, “Make fun of the inbred sister’s family. Your reward is, it’s your turn.” The Apprentice began to kiss his way in that direction. As he worked and kissed and licked on his descent.
Master said, “The short answer to your question is yes.”
Before Ridley took Master into his mouth, he said, “Thanks for sticking up for me.”
“Yes, Ridley, so long as I am here and alive, I will always fight for and with you.”
Ridley, as he sucked Paul, was giving himself over to it. How did he ever even have a life before he met this man? Everyone he had ever been with had taken advantage of his generous nature and straightforward personality. Not Paul Rogers. What they had was mutual, and that was good.
Ridley’s MacBook was lying on the bedside table, so Paul reached out. His ring glistened, and the laptop loaded and began playing music. He loved everything about his Ridley Johnson from Johnson City—even his taste in music. They repositioned it, and Paul got some lube and put it on himself. He wanted to see this lovely young man’s face and for him to see him. He put him on his back and lifted his legs gently so he could do him that way.
He watched his Apprentice’s eyes as he slowly pushed into him. A nifty song came on the MacBook that Paul was not aware of, but it was sexy as hell. Ridley was familiar with this 80s stuff. It was Rufus and Chaka Khan’s “Ain’t Nobody.” He had sung to the one brother under a forced enchantment. He would do this one from joy and pleasure.
“Ain’t nobody (Nobody)
Loves me better (Loves me better)
Makes me happy
Makes me feel this way (Nobody)
Ain’t nobody (Ain’s nobody)
Love me better than you.”
His Master was going to the rhythm, and this was going onto a playlist somewhere. His Master was building speed slowly but surely. He could easily hurl lightning around, which sped up the process. He was like a particle accelerator. As he was rocking in and out of him, he leaned down and kissed Ridley, who grabbed the back of his head gently.
Char Le Maine had described the man on top of his as potent if he only knew. He was starting to get close. He was moaning more frequently. His Master finally arched his back and began to gratify them both as he was deep inside Ridley. They just stared at one another as this happened. Then he lay there for a minute after he finished.
He moved around on the bed and took Ridley’s manhood back into his mouth again. He was at a pretty good pace, and his Apprentice was squirming and moaning wildly. It did not take long before the student got significant gratification. He unloaded into his Master’s mouth, who did not seem to mind. When they were both satisfied, Paul lay beside him. They just stared at each other and looked.
The MacBook randomly selected a tune from the Weather Girls, “It’s Raining Men.” They raced each other to influence the machine to move to the next track. They needed no men falling from the sky; they had what they needed here. Ridley thought, and he reached for it again and selected a tune, and it began to play. Whitney Houston’s “All the Man That I Need.” Perfect, just perfect.
They lay there for a while, and Max didn’t even need to say anything; his Master reached and took the bottle of acetaminophen off the side table and took two caplets. He cupped one of his hands out in front of him and concentrated. He pulled moisture from the air, which was now full of water. Ridley took the Tylenol, and Paul turned his hand up, and the water went in to wash them down.
They had showered and were now downstairs eating breakfast for dinner. His master grinned at him, “That White Lightning makes one feel like they have been struck by it, doesn’t it?”
Ridley grinned back, “Or run over by a car called white lightning. I can’t decide which. Isn’t it only academic at a certain point of a headache anyway?”
Master said, “Don’t sign me up for those damn classes, please.”
There was a brief burst of cold air as the front door opened and closed, and Renault De Char Le Maine was seated on the other end of the couch with Ridley. Jeez, that creature could book it if he wanted to. His usual immaculate appearance was dented. His suit looked all ruffled and even torn in a couple of places. However, he had a perfect air of civility and sophistication in his manner.
He said, “I finally caught up with that fiend, Antonio Seville, ungrateful. I don’t know what to say. Piece of shit!”
Ridley grinned, “You tell him, Char Le Maine.”
The ruffled Vampire said, “As you can see, he tore my nice suit; well, he learned what happens when a 220-year-old Vampire tangles with his Maker, who is almost 500 years old. I gave him quite a good thrashing; I am not done yet. The thing about being one of the undead is that I can thrash him like that bunny on TV. I can keep going and going.”
His Master asked, “Did he give you any information?”
Char Le Maine was thoughtful about it for a vampire, “Yes. Their plan is simple. They plan to kill your Apprentice, Ridley.”
