The Last Coven: 1

Chapter 1: Numb

We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered.
Tom Stoppard (1937 - ), Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead

Antonio Altamira groaned, leaning his forehead on the steering wheel. The car motor purred impatiently, in midst of the racket of honking horns and yelling voices. Of all the countries in Europe, Antonio believed Andorra had the worst traffic. The line stretched for miles and miles, and it seemed to him that it had been ages since he had actually driven at all.

He raised his head and looked out the window. The weather was as gray as ever, and the cars and people around him were the only source of color. People were out of their cars, yelling obscenities in many different languages: English, Spanish, French, Catalan, Italian and something that sounded like German. Antonio turned his eyes to the man who stood besides his car; he was overweight, his chin marked with stubble, and his hair untidy and he shook his fist at the farthest car he could see, yelling something that perhaps it was good that Antonio could not hear through his closed window.

Antonio could not blame the man. The weather was dreary, the line was long, and of all the places he could have gotten stuck in, the highway was not the best. It was three in the afternoon, and he was one of the few people in the line of cars that was actually coming from Spain to stay in Andorra.

For the hundredth time, he unconsciously blamed Tatiana.

Tatiana, his Spanish ex-wife. She was all a man could want: she was graced with great intelligence, held an excellent job, was kind and caring, and was extremely beautiful. Five years of marriage had made Antonio grow to love his wife even more than he had loved her when he had proposed to her, and she had loved him also. However, there was one small flaw, which gradually grew bigger as time passed, like the first cut in nylon…the hole gradually became bigger, and after a time ended tearing the entire thing apart.

Tatiana had no interest in children. And Antonio’s dream had always been to have children of his own. To him, it had been one of the primal points in his getting married; to eventually form a family, with his wonderful wife at his side.

But she was stubborn, and claimed that there was no need, and no time to care for them, though they were fairly well off and quite able to maintain a family of seven. But Tatiana did not want to be a mother, and nothing could convince her otherwise. As time passed, their discussions always began with the subject, and discussions turned into fights, and they began to disagree in even the most trifle subjects. Two years later, it became obvious to them that there was no way they could continue a married couple: their fights were so terrible they both feared it would somehow turn violent, and although they were civil enough to each other, there was always underlying hostility. Love had faded.

The divorce was filed quickly. Perhaps much too quickly, and soon Antonio was a single man again. His wedding ring was in a box again, but the box was now in his pocket. Somehow, he had never been able to part from it, even though he knew that he no longer had any use for it. It was a painful reminder of what he had lost, but he could not bear to lose even that anymore.

Soon he became aware that he could no longer live in Spain. He knew it was a matter of time before he lost his job. He had worked in an insurance company, and after he divorced he had discovered that there was a way to be too dull for an insurance company. He quit without even realizing it, sold his apartment, packed his bags, and only now was he beginning to notice that his intention was to move to Andorra.

Caring no longer existed for him. He could not care less about what happened to him now, but somehow he was also tired of it all, and the traffic was making it worse. He felt numb in the heart, and he was slowly trying to pull himself out of that state. But it was getting harder, and it hurt like warming a frozen hand: as he recovered feeling, he felt the pain to the bones.

Antonio had a vague idea of what he would do here. The first nights he would stay at a hotel until he found somewhere more permanent to stay, and maybe he would find a job. He knew that starting over again would probably be a great help for him, but, contrary to popular belief, he had no intention of finding another woman. He was tired, and the mere mention of marriage sent him into a fit of dark memories.

He had few friends. Those he had had at work had drifted away as he sunk deeper into his own misery, and the others had left the country for their own reasons. Life was pulling them away in one direction, while Death pulled him in another. He knew no one in Andorra, but he felt more comfortable knowing that his fate was in his own hands, however cold those hands might be.

He was still at the outskirts of the city, and frustration started to take a tighter hold on him, but suddenly, to his satisfaction, the line began to move. Andorra had traffic that was much too big for its size, but that was for two reasons: the fact that it was a perfect place to shop, since it had no sales tax, and the fact that it was a road from Spain to France.


Antonio’s Honda seemed glad as it finally got to drive at a pace that was almost normal. He caught sight of an enormous mall that marked the beginning of Andorra la Vella. As he drove on, he saw a park on the next block, and the intersection there had two signs, one pointing in his direction saying “Espanya” and another in the opposite direction, saying “Franca”. Since his intention was most certainly not to go to France, Antonio turned left and found himself in the middle of the small city. It was no longer snowing, and the skiing season was ending, but he could still see a few people in full ski gear making their way into buildings.

For Antonio, time passed both quickly and slowly. While minutes passed at a ridiculous speed, a week would pass and to him it seemed that it was only Monday. Now that he had left the traffic, the city seemed quite calm, in spite of the shoppers who streamed in and out of the mall.

The day passed quickly, of course. He found a decent hotel and left his belongings in the room, pulling a thicker coat on to protect himself from the wind. He visited the mall briefly, but it was stifling, overflowing with people and many plastic bags of freshly bought products. He couldn’t stand the noise and the pushing of people against him, so he left quickly, buying a newspaper on the way out and struggling to understand Catalan. Spanish was his native language and he understood French well, but a mixture of both was rather puzzling. It took him a few minutes before he was able to understand the entire article.

CHILD DISAPPEARS IN PARK
Two nights ago, Lisa Ford disappeared in the central park of Andorra la Vella. She was playing alongside her two brothers and younger sister in the playground area, while her parents conversed with a friend. No one is said to have seen the six year old, and people present in the scene say that no suspicious looking person approached the playground. The Ford family was visiting Andorra and planned to stay there only one more day, but are now staying in the area while the police conducts a search. Oddly enough, there are no traces of her, and the frantic family is growing more and more desperate for news. “I know my daughter is out there,” says Mrs. Ford, “and I know they will find her soon.” But Brian Velasquez, chief of police, says that the prospects are not favorable. “We have conducted a thorough search,” he told the media, “and unfortunately we have not found any clues that could lead us to the Fords’ daughter’s kidnappers.” He went on to say that the next option would be that the child ran away and got lost, but until now there has been no one who says to have seen the six year old. This is the third incident in the past month, and the police is beginning to suspect organized crime.

The article went on to describe Lisa Ford in detail, and had an adjacent picture of her. She was a little blond girl, who stared gravely at the camera with bright blue eyes. Her expression was serious and it was not hard for Antonio to imagine that she was a quiet and intelligent child. He sighed, feeling sad to know that her parents must be wild with worry and grief.

He decided, quite suddenly, even as he turned the pages of the newspaper that he half understood, that he would go for a drive outside the city. Cities brought him bad memories, and he had no intention to let his first day in Andorra turn out a dull and depressing one. Forcing a smile out of himself, he folded and pocketed the newspaper and made his way at a moderate pace to the hotel where he had left his car.

It was dark green, with sleek leather seats and the characteristic smell of a new car. In fact, it was not new at all, but Antonio liked to imagine that it was, and he was extremely proud of his car and the state he had kept it in.

The next two hours were peaceful for Antonio. The mountains around Andorra la Vella were particularly splendid, covered with snow and surrounded by wonderful and ancient trees that also lined the sides of the road, adding a beautiful natural touch to the highway. He passed many houses of different shapes, but all seemed to be rather gray, reflecting the color of the sky. It did not rain, but the wind was constant, and the leaves of the trees fluttered like hair in the wind. He passed small forests and plains, and even once he thought he caught a glimpse of a lake between two mountains. Antonio was rather surprised at the beauty of the place. He had never suspected that it would be quite like this.

For two hours he drove on, but presently he realized that he would have to go back, or sooner or later he would end up in another country. Smiling to himself at the prospect of a country being so small that there was such a danger, he turned the car around and began to drive back. But this time, his car felt strange, and after some minutes of driving he realized that the car was pulling to one side.

He knew what it was immediately. Groaning, he stopped the car and opened the door, walking towards the opposite side of the car, and looking at the tire. Sure enough, it was flat.  Unless he got back to the city soon, he would be stranded, because he had no way of filling his tire with air again. He cursed himself for his own foolishness, and got into the car again, wincing at the feeling the tire gave to the journey.

Fifteen minutes later, it began to clatter. He could hear the noise of it against the asphalt, and he groaned again. He was perfectly aware that there was absolutely no way he would be able to get to the city in time. He began to look to the side of the road, praying that he was close enough to find some place where he would be able to fill his tire with air again.

On an astonishing stroke of luck, he found the place even as his tire gave its last groans of pain. There was a thick group of trees that lined either side of a dirt path that was wide enough for a car, leading up to a tall gate of metal bars.

Antonio turned onto the path and stopped in front of the gate. He stepped out of the car, glancing at the pathetic looking tire, and then looked through the bars of the gate. Beyond was a beautiful mansion.

It was made entirely of bricks and stone, and looked quite ancient. The path continued up to the front, now made of gravel, where some wide steps led up to a landing and then to great double doors of dark wood. On either side of the door were two medium sized sculptures of what looked like leopards, sitting elegantly, guarding the entrance of the mansion. The windows that dotted the entire building were also quite very ornate, but even from the distance Antonio could see that the curtains were drawn behind them. The mansion stood in the middle of a vast plain that was in the midst of many ancient trees, and Antonio thought that he could see some water between some of the trees, a little way off.

He stared in awe for a moment, forgetting his purpose, but soon he remembered and looked around. There was an intercom on one of the pillars at the side of the gate, and hesitating briefly, he pressed the button.

There was silence for a minute. Then, with a click and a low buzz, the intercom came to life.

The soft voice of a young man spoke.

“How may I help you?” He spoke in English, which surprised Antonio but made him rather happy. He had lived in England for most of his youth, and he enjoyed the language a lot.

“Er- hello. I’m sorry for bothering you, but the tire of my car has lost air and it’s impossible for me to drive. I was wondering if you had something to pump air into the tire, and if you would be so kind as to let me borrow it so that I could get back to the city, if you don’t mind?” Antonio was hesitant, grimacing as he spoke. It was quite probable that the man would refuse to help him, since he was in the middle of nowhere, and the house was probably owned by a rich, stingy old man who would have no interest in helping him. Mentally, Antonio begged the man to help him. He certainly had no desire to have to walk back to the city; he would be lucky if he got there by nighttime.

“It would be a pleasure.” The tone of voice did not change at all. “Please wait a second.” There was another click, and silence.

Relieved, Antonio waited with his hands in the pockets of his coat, pulling up the collar as a particularly chilling gust of wind passed him. The trees swayed and whispered quietly to each other on either side of the path, and Antonio could hear the distant cries of birds over what he presumed was a lake.

From where he stood he saw the heavy front doors of the mansion open, and a surprisingly small figure walked out.