My friend Bill is sitting in a wicker chair, staring at the beach, watching the scantily clad girls playing by the waves. That’s why he chose the patio. Well, it’s warm. And that’s why we could meet at Myrtle Beach. It’s unusually warm this time of year. We’re on a wooden deck with the sounds of waves crashing on the shore. The sun and smell of the ocean is a relief. Bill’s wearing a preppy button-down and slacks while I’m in a T-shirt and jeans. He managed to slip me a beer. He claimed he was buying a second for himself.
“Will you relax?” he says with a smile, under his shades. “Jesus, your ass is so tight, Lee, I could use it to pull the cap off the next bottle.”
I take a swig of my beer over that and run my fingers along my hair. My hair’s getting long. I’ve been too busy with a freak witch cult to trim it.
He points at me, holding his beer. Then he cocks his head and wags the same finger toward a beachgoer.
“Take a look at her. She’s probably freezing near the water. It might be hot, but the water’s ice cold, I bet. Priceless. Myrtle Beach.”
I lean forward. Two girls in bikinis are running on the waves.
“Don’t be so damn obvious,” he says with a laugh.
“You’re a pervert.” I fall back in my chair and lean on my chin. That lasts a split second as my face stings like hell.
“You ready to tell me what happened to your face?” Bill asks. “Please tell me the guy that did that looks worse.”
“I got some swings in.”
“I’ve never been in a fight. My face is quite happy for it. But you still have your teeth and a straight nose.”
“Yeah.”
“Then all’s well,” he says with his arms out. Then he gestures back at the beach and the pretty girls.
“It was stormy and snowy in Hawthorne last week,” I remark, changing the subject randomly. “I never would have thought I’d be outside on a beach.”
“Um-hmm,” he says, sipping beer. “What’s so urgent that you wanted to meet today? I thought you said everything was going great on the phone.”
“It’s a good school, but weird.”
“You should have done better on your SAT. You could have gone somewhere outside of the forest.”
“Screw you.”
He laughs.
“What about you? How’s Duke?”
“There’s a lot of history around these parts,” he says, pointing to the sea, ignoring my question. “You know the ghost stories around The Grand Stand?” I shake my head. He counts on three fingers. “There’s Alice Flagg, Drunken Jack, and The Gray Man. Alice Flagg was a girl who lost the ring of her beloved before she died. The story goes that she still roams these beaches looking for it. The Gray Man story is similar. Only instead of a ring, he’s searching for his true love to warn her of storms. That’s the guy I’m studying for school. The Gray Man. You remember Hurricane Hugo?”
I shake my head.
“We forget storms, don’t we? Well, The Gray Man was there then too. It’s said that every time a hurricane erupts, the tall gray man stands just staring out at the water. I’m suggesting that it could just be a discharge of light creating illusions. But I’m also studying the crazier notion that lightning might cause enough energy to rip the fabric of our reality.” He raises an eyebrow over his shades, waiting for me to applaud for him or something. Then he points at me with his beer glass. “That’s the cool stuff.”
“I’m happy for you,” I quip sarcastically.
“But today, I’m not working, I’m here for my friend,” he says with a wide gesture of his arms, leaning back in his chair, “I got an underaged freshman a beer. What more could you want? So, now tell me—what happened to you? You might want to get that checked. You could have broken your jaw.”
“I can move my mouth fine.”
“You guys decide on anything?” asks a waitress. She has long blond hair and is wearing a crop top with blue shorts. She’s not much older than we are. I quickly push my half-drunk beer closer to him.
“Potato skins,” Bill says. “You, Lee?”
She nods then she squints and scrutinizes me. Probably checking out how old I am.
“I’m good.”
“Oh, and another beer,” Bill adds.
She looks suspiciously at his bottle, which is still three-quarters full. Of course, mine is nearly empty.
“You drink fast,” I quip with a grin.
“Well, you need more. So what happened? Attacked by a bear in the woods?”
“There’s a lot of weird shit in Hawthorne,” I repeat. I love the guy, but how am I going to explain everything? Alondra? Witches? Ghosts?
He’s staring at me behind his shades.
I grab my beer bottle. “Hawthorne’s cliquey. It’s a small college and it’s hard to not join a group. If you don’t join somewhere, you’re a loner.”
“I thought there was only one sorority and a couple of fraternities? You referring to clubs or something?”
“Sort of.”
“And your girlfriend’s in one of them?”
“Sort of. What about you, Bill? How’s Heather?”
“We broke up,” he says, shaking his head.
“And your students? How’s teaching—”
“Forget me. Tell me more about your face.”
“My girlfriend’s clique had a party. I wasn’t invited. But that’s not the worst of it. She didn’t want me there. But that’s not even it. She threw me out because it was against her rules. But she still likes me.”
“Fuck her. There’s other girls. Like the ones down there on the sand.”
“You don’t understand. It’s not her. It’s just her group. She still cares for me.”
“Tell her to leave the group.”
“She’s their leader.”
He takes a big sigh and nods. “Then why couldn’t she let you in?”
“It’s not allowed. It’s a witch group.”
“A witch group?” he asks with a nod. “Hmm. Of course. You’re in the freaky woods. Wicca?”
“It’s not Wicca. It’s weirder.”
“So your new girlfriend did this to your face?”
“No.” I laugh. “Every coven has one—”
“Male in its group. I know covens. I’m studying the occult at Duke right now.” That was the other reason I wanted to meet him. But even though he might be familiar with “Gray Men” and Wiccans, somehow I don’t think he’s going to fully grasp Alondra’s coven.
“So what’s wrong?” he asks.
“I need your help.”
The waitress brings another beer and the potato skins. Then she turns to me. I don’t have time to push the beer to my friend this time.
“Can I see your driver’s license?”
“Look at his face,” Bill says. “Can you give the guy a break?”
“You guys are going to get me in a lot of trouble.”
“I’m joking,” Bill says, grabbing my bottle. He winks at her. “It’s my birthday. It’s all for me.”
She hesitates and shakes her head. Then she looks at me. “If I see you drinking again, I’ll have to ask you to leave. Okay? That’s the rules.”
Bill answers by taking my bottle and downing the rest of my beer in front of her. I laugh. She doesn’t. When the coast is clear, he pushes me the fresh bottle.
“Go on,” he says.
“It’s a long story.”
I tell him about goths, bonfires, hooded cloaks, Satanism, orgies, sex, incantations, ghosts, possessions, and a gorgeous wicked witch of the west, with emerald eyes, right out of The Wizard of Oz. When the story’s finished and after I’ve finished my second beer, I stare at the beach. I turn back. He’s speechless.
“You don’t believe me?”
“You people in the woods are so weird,” he says with this infuriating smirk. I can’t help but laugh. “Well, I’ve known you for a long time, Liam. You’re either crazy and hallucinating or you’re telling the truth. You’re not creative enough to have made this up. I… I believe part of it. Especially the warlock and your eye.”
“It’s the truth.”
I look down at our table. We got so caught up in the story that we barely ate any of the potato skins. I grab one.
I’m feeling good. I’ve had two beers. I never drink.
Then I look out at the sky. It’s red and gold, turning purple. I hesitantly take off my shades and show my ugly face. It’s getting dark enough outside to not be ashamed by anyone seeing me.
“We need to get back at Crapper for that,” he says, pointing at my face.
“Capper. I hit him pretty hard too.”
“His name is Crapper. Did you check your voicemail?”
“No.”
“I’m sure she called you after what happened. What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. The fight put things into perspective. For me, Hawthorne is Alondra. And Alondra is witches. If you met her you’d understand. If I reject her witches, I leave her. If I leave her, I leave Hawthorne. Even before we met, I was miserable and ready to leave the school. That’s what’s bothering me. That, the ghost, and Hawthorne.”
“Well, I’d like to meet her. These sex orgies sound pretty dope.”
My expression wipes the smile from his face.
“Sorry,” he says, reaching out.
“What can I do about the ghost, Bill? She called it an Ekimmu? Do you know what an Ekimmu is?”
“Are you seriously asking me?”
“Yeah.”
“Liam,” he says, leaning over with a smirk. “I’m a graduate student studying the paranormal and supernatural. I’m here this semester to study phenomena. I don’t practice it. I have no idea. You have to go back and ask your girlfriend.”
“What’s an Ekimmu?”
“Hmm, an Ekimmu is… Sumerian, I think.”
“That’s what she said.”
“Hmm. They were like vampires in ancient times, I think. Demon ghosts. I mean, when you think about it, all ghosts are soul-suckers. They’re all using the energy of the living.”
“Billy, I saw one tower over me in that girl’s room in Alabama. Then, it sounds really stupid, but I swear I saw it again in class. I yelled at it, it disappeared, and it was fucking humiliating.”
“Folklore says Ekimmus can latch on to individuals, if I remember correctly. Not like a haunted house, but an actual person. But from your experience in Alabama, maybe you saw what you thought you saw just from all the shock?” That doesn’t make me feel any better. “I’m not a ghost hunter, like your weird friends. Maybe ask them. I’m a graduate TA, but…” He lifts a finger. “I’m also your friend. Let me give you a little advice. Join this group. If this girl’s in love with you, like you say she is, she’ll dump Crapper. Then you can be their high priest and you’ll belong just fine.”
“I don’t want to be a witch.” I take a deep breath and drink the last drops of my beer. “Maybe I should take you up on your offer for Duke and go home.”
“Well, I might be leaving after Heather. I prefer Myrtle Beach. Or even your orgy forest. I think staying home is what made Heather break up with me in the first place. She wanted to go elsewhere. She was as sick of home as I was.”
“I’m lonely as hell in Hawthorne. Alondra’s all I got, Bill. If I lose her, I don’t have anyone.”
“Liam, aside from your face, Hawthorne sounds pretty cool. You’re living what I’m studying.”
The waitress walks over and hands us the bill.
“Thanks for the beer,” I say to Bill.
That gets the waitress all flustered and Bill laughs.
“We’re closing the patio,” the waitress snaps. “If you want anything else, you can order inside.” Then she looks at me. “He can order inside.”
I’m driving my Camaro over a hundred and twenty-five miles an hour, in the dead of night, back to Hawthorne. I care little for danger and, frankly, I’m enjoying the rush of speed. I figure I’ll return to my dorm and sleep two more days until school starts again.
Maybe I’ve dreamt the whole thing. Maybe I’m fucking crazy, like Bill said. Maybe my girlfriend is crazy too. “Six, six, six, fucked by a witch?” What kind of twisted shit is that?