The Witches Of Denmark Read Online Free
Author: Aiden James
magic, and a deadly war on the horizon.
Chapter Two
I suppose this is a good place in my story to mention a few very important details before moving forward.
The reference to magic and a coming war are certainly dead giveaways that we are not your typical suburban family seeking a new start in Small Town USA. My parents would appear like anyone else in their late thirties, and Alisia looks and acts like most sixteen-year-olds. As for me, I sometimes act like the eighteen-year-old kid that fits my physical appearance.
My affinity for the Victorian era might stem from the fact I was born in Paris, during a bitterly cold November in 1889. Yes, the very year the Eiffel Tower was erected as the entrance arch to the World’s Fair.
Bet that got you.
So, if you were thinking this was a story about slightly agitated parents moving their beleaguered kids and belongings to get away from big city life, in favor of the stereotypically simpler lifestyle in a quaint little town in the rural south, then this is where you should get off. Get off this train and go find that more typical American drama. Otherwise, get ready to hold on to your seats as we move on in this chronicle. The shit, as they say, is coming... from our enemies and by virtue of whom and what we are.
Since much of what follows after this chapter in my journal is pretty far out there for most people, it seems appropriate to share some of my family’s history first. Especially, the history that impacts the here and now for us in Denmark; as well as the reasons why we have moved five hundred miles to start a brand new life.
I was born after my father and mother had fled America to return to Romania. Ironically, my birth while my parents were stranded in Paris became the catalyst for their decision to return to the United States. To return, and take up the fight against the Mateis—a rival family of warlocks and witches who once held close kinship to my family. A tragic event in 1877 crushed our two families’ friendship, and destroyed all alliances beyond repair. Alliances that were in some parts of the world over one thousand years old.
I will detail that tragedy in due time.
But first, let me start with a fuller introduction to my immediate family. My sister, Alisia, is the only one—other than two of my cousins—to be born in this country. Not only is she native to the red, white, and blue, but she also hails from the town we just left: Wheaton, Illinois. Born in April, 1928, she just celebrated her eighty-sixth birthday.
Yet, she looks barely old enough to request a ‘learner’s permit’. Considering that the rest of us are much older than her, and in some cases look hundreds of years younger, one might say we, and those like us, hold exclusive rights to the legendary fountain of youth. No, we are not fully immortal, though it is difficult to kill a warlock or witch consecrated by n aș tere la întuneric , or birth to darkness , as it is translated from Romanian to English.
Although I preceded my sister’s arrival on this planet by almost forty years, as the aging process is very slow per the ceremony I just mentioned, I hadn’t reached adolescence yet. So, like Alisia, my formative years were spent in Chicago at first, and in Wheaton from shortly before her birth. Our family resided in three different homes during our ninety-year stay in America’s Christian Mecca, and each residence met the rigorous standards of ‘The Code’ mentioned earlier. By the Roaring Twenties, our line of the Radus had amassed a significant fortune that has since been distributed among a myriad of investments overseen by my father and grandfather. Enough to live lavishly for centuries, it will never happen. Yes, it often sucks, but Blending in Modestly has been the mandate protecting our clan for these many centuries. Temptations to stray are handled harshly. Many of our less scrupulous brethren have paid a steep price for such
Chapter Two
I suppose this is a good place in my story to mention a few very important details before moving forward.
The reference to magic and a coming war are certainly dead giveaways that we are not your typical suburban family seeking a new start in Small Town USA. My parents would appear like anyone else in their late thirties, and Alisia looks and acts like most sixteen-year-olds. As for me, I sometimes act like the eighteen-year-old kid that fits my physical appearance.
My affinity for the Victorian era might stem from the fact I was born in Paris, during a bitterly cold November in 1889. Yes, the very year the Eiffel Tower was erected as the entrance arch to the World’s Fair.
Bet that got you.
So, if you were thinking this was a story about slightly agitated parents moving their beleaguered kids and belongings to get away from big city life, in favor of the stereotypically simpler lifestyle in a quaint little town in the rural south, then this is where you should get off. Get off this train and go find that more typical American drama. Otherwise, get ready to hold on to your seats as we move on in this chronicle. The shit, as they say, is coming... from our enemies and by virtue of whom and what we are.
Since much of what follows after this chapter in my journal is pretty far out there for most people, it seems appropriate to share some of my family’s history first. Especially, the history that impacts the here and now for us in Denmark; as well as the reasons why we have moved five hundred miles to start a brand new life.
I was born after my father and mother had fled America to return to Romania. Ironically, my birth while my parents were stranded in Paris became the catalyst for their decision to return to the United States. To return, and take up the fight against the Mateis—a rival family of warlocks and witches who once held close kinship to my family. A tragic event in 1877 crushed our two families’ friendship, and destroyed all alliances beyond repair. Alliances that were in some parts of the world over one thousand years old.
I will detail that tragedy in due time.
But first, let me start with a fuller introduction to my immediate family. My sister, Alisia, is the only one—other than two of my cousins—to be born in this country. Not only is she native to the red, white, and blue, but she also hails from the town we just left: Wheaton, Illinois. Born in April, 1928, she just celebrated her eighty-sixth birthday.
Yet, she looks barely old enough to request a ‘learner’s permit’. Considering that the rest of us are much older than her, and in some cases look hundreds of years younger, one might say we, and those like us, hold exclusive rights to the legendary fountain of youth. No, we are not fully immortal, though it is difficult to kill a warlock or witch consecrated by n aș tere la întuneric , or birth to darkness , as it is translated from Romanian to English.
Although I preceded my sister’s arrival on this planet by almost forty years, as the aging process is very slow per the ceremony I just mentioned, I hadn’t reached adolescence yet. So, like Alisia, my formative years were spent in Chicago at first, and in Wheaton from shortly before her birth. Our family resided in three different homes during our ninety-year stay in America’s Christian Mecca, and each residence met the rigorous standards of ‘The Code’ mentioned earlier. By the Roaring Twenties, our line of the Radus had amassed a significant fortune that has since been distributed among a myriad of investments overseen by my father and grandfather. Enough to live lavishly for centuries, it will never happen. Yes, it often sucks, but Blending in Modestly has been the mandate protecting our clan for these many centuries. Temptations to stray are handled harshly. Many of our less scrupulous brethren have paid a steep price for such
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