Odyssey of a Prodigal Stepson Part Two Re-write

Previous: Jamie was thrown into the prickles and thorns in Sparks park by bullies. This was a penalty for withholding informaton about someone that snitched on Sebastin; the head bully from Jamie's school. 

Later that night Jamie got into an argument with his younger stepbrother Deacon and punched the boy in the arm. Delilah, his elder Stepsister, and part time babysitter; banished Jamie to his room as way of punishment, but seemed to overlook Deacon's part in the incident. This led to Jamie believe that his stepsister was playing favourites, as Deacon is her biological brother and he is only her stepbrother.   

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-The Mud-blood’s Coven stead-

“Hey good looking, what’s ya got a-cooking?” said Jamie, ambling into the kitchen the following morning.

“I was cooking toadstool pancakes before, sweetheart.” Affirmed Catarina. “There’s still plenty of mix left over. I’ll whip you up a batch if you like.”

“Sounds good Mum. Do you think you could sprinkle some broken glass on mine?”

“We’ll see. Late is the hour, my Little Prince Charming honours us with his presence.”

“Princes need their beauty sleep, aspecially on Saturdays.”

“Especially, not especially.”  

“Especially on Saturdays.”

“Good boy, have a seat at the table and I’ll bring it out to you shortly.”

Jamie grinned and then headed back to the dining room. His relationship with Catarina was still a work in progress. Replacing a loving mother he assumed would always be there for him proved difficult. Sometimes he found himself being given timeouts for actions his biological mother used to tolerate. Other times he was expected to do things, he was used to being punished for. Despite the discrepancies, he could not deny the love he felt for his new stepmother.

“You okay, Deacon?” said Jamie, slumping down at the dining table next to his stepbrother.

“Yeah,” replied Deacon. His plate was empty with smears of golden syrup and icing sugar. He seemed too engrossed, or bitter to look up from his comic. Jamie could not be sure of which.

“I’m sorry about last night,”

“Yeah,”

“I shouldn’t have hit you…I’m really sorry about that.”

“Yeah,”

“Oh come on, Deacon; quit pouting and forgive him.” Urged Harvey, from the opposite side of the table.  He was approximately the same age, stature as Jamie. Strangers often mistook them for non-identical twins. “Everyone makes mistakes.”

“Yeah,” mumbled Deacon, his eyes still glued to the comic. “Some people make more mistakes than others.

“Okay, fine” said Jamie, shrugging his shoulders. “Be like that.”

He shifted his attention to a large family portrait hanging in the middle of the southern wall. Below this, to the left, stood a tall china cabinet with what Jamie’s father, Alexander, referred to as the For-best China. The space between the cabinet and adjacent wall was reserved for timeouts, an area Jamie seemed to be frequenting more often than usual during the past few months.

“Here you go darling,” said Catarina, interrupting his chain of thought. She placed a plate of steaming pancakes beside him with one hand and ruffled his short chestnut hair with the other. “Try to get most of it in your mouth, instead of on your clothes and tablecloth and don’t wipe your sticky fingers on your jeans. Us a napkin,”

“I’ll be careful,” promised Jamie.

“When you’re finished breakfast I have an errand for you and Harvey to run. You boys can take Koromaru out for his morning constitutional at the same time. Deacon’s has to stay behind and clean up his room…don’t you young man?”

“Yeah,” said Deacon. “I mean, yes Mum.”

“At least he’s agreeable, this morning,” said Harvey.

“Thank God for small mercies,” said Katarina.

 

***********

 “I’ve got to do a book report for school?” said Harvey, strolling along Pembroke Street. He was wearing a red beanie and silver scarf, at the insistence of Catarina. Both his hands rested snug in the side pockets of his crimson hoodie. “It’s a famous story about two and a half thousand octopus-sis-sis.”  

“I don’t think I’ve heard of it,” said Jamie, tightening his grip on Koromaru’s leash as he noticed a large bull mastiff further down the road. It was sitting beside a crying girl that had fallen off her bike, while a middle aged couple looked on.  

““It’s called Twenty Thousand Legs under the Sea.”

“That’s just silly.”

“Arf,” agreed Koromaru, his eyes fixated on the terrier.

 They turned left at the corner and made their way along McKenzie Terrace. There was a footpath either side of the street, but they stuck to the strip of lawn to the right of it. Jamie felt it was kinder on the dog’s paws and closer to nature, should there be a sudden canine call of nature.

 “So whereabouts is this mud-blood’s Covenstead?” asked Harvey.

“You really think that Mrs Pringle’s a witch?” said Jamie.

 “Straight-up, bro. All of our teachers are witches, or trolls, and the headmaster’s a warlock.”

 “Why would they bother coming here? We’ve only got a population of about five thousand, and as for Carterton School; well it’s not exactly Hogwarts is it.”

“I don’t know, maybe Delilah summoned them there as part of some cunningly-evil plan.”

“What plan?”

“If you or I knew it wouldn’t be cunning-evil, would it.”

“I guess not…um, I think it might be that one over there.”

“The one with the hellhounds, and circling vultures?”

 “I can’t see any.”

“That’s cuz they’re invisible.”

“If you say so…come on let’s get this over with.”

“I’ll stay out by the gate and look after Koro, so he doesn’t get turned into a frog or something. You go in and ask for the camera. Don’t forget to say please and thank you to her.”

Jamie handed the lead to Harvey and smiled as his stepbrother made a big fuss of it. He tucked his Lil Wayne top into his dark grey jeans before unlatching a metal gate. Though unconvinced of the teacher’s connection with the occult, he could not help but feel uneasy as he made his way along a short pathway to the veranda.

“Shadows passed his blue-vein hands like spiders spinning strange commands; released the beast, that dwelled in Jasper Dan,” muttered Jamie. It was a spooky monologue, from a song that his stepfather, Alexander, often recited. “Next time you hear that tap-tap-tap, it might not be the raving rat; it might be Jasper on the prowl again.”

 He brushed his chestnut hair with his fingers, pressed the doorbell and waited. Sounds of approaching footsteps resonated from within.

 

-Continues-