The Halloween Visitor
by Rob Morris
OCTOBER 31ST, 1967
MORNING GLORY CIRCLE
WESTPORT, CONNECTICUT
The mortal man answered the knock on the door. His not-so-mortal wife and her mother were away settling some business from earlier in the evening, and their daughter was asleep.
"Yes. Can I help you?"
The man looked very much the gentleman, and he smiled much like one. For this evening and this time and place, it is exactly who he would remain.
"Yes, sir. Is this by any chance the home of Miss Samantha Endoratochter?"
The man had heard his wife's maiden name so rarely, it took a moment or two to register.
"Yes. Sorry. I'm her husband, Darrin Stephens. Sir-please tell me you're not a warlock."
The white-grey haired, Continental-sounding man laughed mildly with a slight rasp, and nodded.
"No, Mister Stephens. Not a warlock. Yet I see that Endora's family is as pleasant to in-laws as ever. Tell me, is her brother Arthur still a dolt, and her sister Clara still an angel?"
Darrin gestured into his house.
"Are they ever."
But the man just stood there. Darrin was puzzled.
"Errr...please come in."
The regal man then did just that, smiling lightly.
"The old courtesies are still the best, don't you think, Mister Stephens? I retain bitter memories of the sudden comings and goings of my ex-wife's family. Magi Naturum, except for Samantha and Clara, tend to have no respect for decorum, privacy, or the sanctity of a man's home. Don't you agree?"
Stephens felt he had met a kindred spirit, and he had, up to a point. Learning his visitor's name, he nodded in agreement.
"Its Darrin. And I could not possibly agree more. Sir, can I get you a drink?"
The man pointed to a golden decanter.
"That is an Elixir Omne Aster. If memory serves, it will provide the proper mead to quench the thirst of whomever it is poured for. Care to join me, Darrin?"
The decanter was a concession to the reality Darrin dwelt in, a way of keeping Sam's relatives from zapping up drinks right in front of Mrs. Kravitz's binoculars. Not wishing to be rude, Darrin first poured his guest a drink, the saltiest version of that famous drink he'd ever smelled, yet the man refused the standard celery stick or ice. He then poured himself the standard double martini he would continue swilling until a futuristic doctor made entirely out of light told him flatly this would kill him.
"So you're not a warlock, but you were married to Endora? I thought non-magi was a no-no, and that she and Maurice were just separated."
The man sipped his drink, seemed if anything even more centered, and nodded.
"Well, neither am I hu-mortal. At least, not any longer. As to the rest, 'separated' is a euphemism that Samantha and her half-sister Peggy Hayden..."
Darrin raised a finger, and interrupted.
"Peg Hunnicutt. She married a doctor back around 1950, and they live out on the coast, near San Francisco."
His guest smiled, grateful for the update.
"Thank you. In any event, separated was their euphemism for a painful situation. In fact, I remain convinced that Endora married me mainly to punish the witches' council for delaying her divorce for so very long. We lasted for a time on passion, yet that is rarely enough. Her children and mine did not get on, though my Nicholas and Samantha remain friendly enough, with time and distance helping as they always do."
Darrin raised his hand.
"You, sir, are a real gentleman. I can honestly say that I've never encountered a more-forgive me-normal member of Sam's extended circle. You're actually talking to me like I mattered."
Perhaps any number of answers came to the mind of the visitor. But it had been a pleasant talk, and he saw no need to alter this.
"I have my own differences with mortals, Darrin. But I know that Endora and hers give outsiders of any stripe little or no breathing room. So let me conclude this visit by saying that we all matter, each in his own way."
He got up to leave, and Darrin shook his hand.
"Listen, I can find a babysitter for Tabitha. The restaurants are open late. What say I take you to dinner? Just two non-warlocks, bemoaning our fates over steak and potatoes."
"Not my meal of choice, Darrin, though your offer is most gracious. No. I merely wished to speak with Samantha about the establishing of legal identities minus the usual documents. Another time, perhaps. For myself alone, let me say that she seems to have chosen a fine man to take as her husband."
"And why am I not surprised that Endora couldn't take someone as polite as you?"
The man left as he had arrived, and he was gone more quickly than Darrin could account for, minus witchcraft. Outside a minute later, Darrin saw Mrs. Kravitz shaking, and pointing her finger.
"Just what kind of things do you let in that house of yours? That one just up and fl-"
Stephens sighed.
"Mrs. Kravitz-you know what my costume is? A man telling his neighbor to mind her own business. Just this once, alright?"
Looking wholly unnerved, the busybody retreated, and Darrin shook his head as he went inside.
Three hours later, Samantha and Endora were horrified to hear of the visitor. Endora checked Darrin's neck.
"If he dared harm you...even you, Derrwood, I swear that I'll make him into a bat for real!"
Darrin had seen a lot of things in his mother-in-law's eyes. True and open concern for his well-being was a new one, though.
"Sam, what's with your mother? I thought he was a man with real class. Like a blue-blood or something."
The not-at-all-dumb blonde began the explanation in her usual way.
"Welllll..."
It would be a week before Darrin Stephens coaxed out of his wife the true nature of Lucien Lacroix.