The Incompetent Witch and the Missing Men

by DC Thome

  Still, my control was dodgy, and I smacked Dot into the ledge twice before finally wrangling Megyyn and her to safety.

  Megyyn took a deep breath. “Thank Goddess for your quick thinking, Dr. Pru.” She held up her petite hands. “These aren’t built for that kind of thing.”

  Dot made sure her skirt was fully in place. “That was about a dollar and fifty cents’ more excitement than I needed. Coulda done with being smashed into the wall one or two less times. Upside-down especially, if ya can snatch my drafty drift.”

  I didn’t tell you to leave your underwear at home.

  “Anyways,” Dot continued, “we know fer shur that a girl can work her magic in this joint, long as she don’t try ta take off. Got a plan fer here on in?”

  Find Hunter. “The cave’s there, and our shoes are already fucked, so I guess the plan has to be to go inside and look around.”

  “But,” Camille said, “something dangerous could be in there.”

  “Or our men could be in there.”

  Ashley opened her mouth to chime in, but Dot covered it with her hand. “If there’s somethin’ dangerous, we sure ’nuff don’t want it to know we’re on the way, if yer capisce to my evaluation of our predicament.”

  “She’s right,” I said. “Sorry in advance, Ashley. This’ll be best for all of us.”

  I moved my hand toward her lips. She tried to back away, but the others held her still as she gestured with her head toward the woods.

  Keeping the one hand on her mouth, I raised the other, silently asked the Goddess not to accidentally, say, fill Ashley’s mouth with concrete, and said:

  Powers that be, hear my request

  In order to protect the rest

  This one cannot, must not screech

  Temporarily stop her power to speak.

  Before I could apply the spell, Megyyn said, “Um, ‘screech’ and ‘speak’ don’t rhyme.”

  I frowned. “Doesn’t matter.”

  “I’m pretty sure it does,” Dot said. “‘Powers of speech’ would go nicely at the end.”

  “Or maybe change ‘screech’ to ‘shriek,’” Megyyn added.

  “This is for you guys.” I extended my middle finger. “And this”—I withdrew the bird and extended my index finger—“is for all of us.”

  I twirled my finger, twitched my nose and nodded.

  Dot, Camille and Megyyn slowly removed their hands. Ashley opened her mouth but made no sounds other than a grating succession of gurgles and clicks.

  “Not a hundred percent effective, but good enough,” I declared.

  “Woulda been a hunnert if ya’d gone with ‘speech,’” Dot muttered.

  “Or changed ‘screech’ to ‘shriek,’” Megyyn added.

  “Again…” I scratched my cheek with my middle finger. “Any more objections to going into the cave?”

  “I don’t see how taking away Ashley’s voice makes any difference if there is something dangerous in there,” Megyyn said.

  “That is a good point,” I said, trying to sound as empathetic as they wanted me to sound back in Faking Empathy 101 in counseling school. “But, remember, if there is something dangerous in there, and our men are in there with it…”

  Megyyn, Camille and Ashley huddled for a moment, and when they were done, Megyyn said, “We’re in.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Our men would go in for us,” Camille said.

  “Great.” I extended my arms. “Everyone hold hands.”

  Camille’s eyes lit up. “So we can feel like a team?”

  “So I can levitate us to the mouth of the cave.”

  “Uh, dearie,” Dot said, in a professionally unempathetic voice, “what part of no-fly, no-transport, no levitatin’ zone do you not understand?”

  “Fuck! How’re we going to get there?”

  “I suggest this here sign may have a solution.” Dot pointed to a red arrow-shaped sign that said “To the entrance to the cave.”

  I shrugged. “It’s worth a try.”

  We fell back into formation and trudged to the base of the ominous crevasse.

  Chapter 5

  The pink rock that rimmed the opening was wet and slick beneath the gnarly vegetation. And warm. I did not expect that. The scent of strawberry coming from the steam as it flowed out of the cave was overwhelming, making Dot gag repeatedly. I gagged, too, partly from the smell but mostly from watching Dot. One time she retched so hard that pink and yellow sparks flew from her mouth.

  Megyyn and Camille looked green around the gills. Ashley, of course, looked green all over, but the wind that blows only through her hair died down considerably.

  I peered into the cleft. It was pitchblack. Not optimal. But in my mind I kept repeating my mantra—Hunter…Hunter…Hunter—and said, “Forward, march!”

  I led us into a tall, narrow chamber whose dim light quickly faded into a darkness that I found unsettling. And I’ve painted walls black. Within a few steps I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face, and that was batshit terrifying. I thought about conjuring up a ball of light—but that would give us away as surely as Ashley screeching.

  “Stop,” I whispered. “We may have to rethink this.” I stepped back into the light. “There’s no light at all ahead.”

  Megyyn looked past me and squinted. “There’s plenty of light. Almost blinding.”

  Fox shifter. Nocturnal vision. Duh.

  Megyyn took off her clothes and transformed into a perky red fox with silky white fur on her underparts and the cutest black button nose. She winked at me and then, with a wiggle of her white-tipped tail, vanished. A second later, another pile of discarded clothing appeared, and I heard tiny feet skitter across the wall a few inches from my ear.

  “Hell and flamin’ blue lipstick! Cockaroochies?” Dot said a little too loudly. “I flappazippin’ hate cockaroochies!”

  “It’s Camille,” I said. “Wall lizard.”

  Dot nodded, I assumed to acknowledge me. But her over-the-top eye movements made me look behind me to see Ashley staring back at the cave opening, shaking and emitting a low-volume quavering whine.

  “Ashley! Are you hurt?” I reached to put my hand on her shoulder. Recalling what happened on Dot’s porch, I braced for the cold. But this time, it was Ashley who was creeped out. She squeaked and jumped into my arms, knocking me onto my oombots. We slid in a tangle down the warm, slippery rock into the strawberry stream.

  I sat shoulder-deep in the warm, smelly creek, fighting to keep my head above water—not easy with Ashley wrapped around my face like The Alien. Dot said, “Don’t look like she’s hurt. More like chicken. Fer an otherworldly wraith that heralds misfortune and doom, she sure is prone to the yippty-do-dahs, if yer one who comprehends the basics of common speech.”

  “Thanks for the diagnosis. Do you think you could get her off me?”

  With a twirl of an index finger, Dot undid the knot that was Ashley and helped her move to a dry spot.

  Before I could rise from the water, Megyyn poked her nose out of the dark and barked what sounded like an Ashley shriek lite, then disappeared again.

  I stood and let the water drip from my dress and hair. “I’m just guessing,” I said, “but it seems that she wants us to follow her.”

  Dot moved to the edge of the darkest darkness, stuck out her hand and watched it disappear. “That would be my guess also.”

  Feeling it was my leaderly duty, I plunged into the unknown, running my hand on the cave wall to feel my way upstream against slippery rapids until light pricked the blackness ahead. Ashley’s intermittent whimpers and Dot’s constant swearing and gagging were the only clues I had that they were behind me. After what felt like eternity, a pinprick of light appeared ahead. It grew with every faltering step until I came to a plateau—actually the floor of a chamber with a stalactite-covered ceiling. The daggers of rock hanging over my head were fascinating—but infinitely more fascinating were several rows of clear, eight-foot-tall cylinders filled with pale pur
ple liquid.

  And the men of Douchecanoe.

  ***

  It was—I’m pretty sure this captures it—totally fucking creepy beyond anything you could imagine even if someone had smashed your skull with a hammer, dumped Drano into the hole and set it on fire. What I could see in the dim light cast by lavender-colored lights hung overhead was that the stream meandered between the rows, which extended back into the dark recesses of the cavern. Weird bubbling noises reverberated loudly against the smooth rock walls of the chamber, making it sound like a demented aquarium. The stench of strawberry clogged the air.

  I waded from the stream and onto the flat, dry floor and moved warily—pink water squishing up and out of my thigh-high boots—toward the nearest cylinder, which contained a crow shifter named Cameron. I’d met him after he and his wife, Cheryl, had a run-in with the Orgasmism. He was just kind of floating in the violet fluid, mouth agape and eyes half-open, like a zombie in a very low-budget horror flick. Bubbles made his hair stand up and bob to and fro. As he was naked, his bongiovanni, not quite standing up, also bobbed to and fro. The situation was pretty much the same for the elk shifter, Lawrence, in the next tube over. And from what I could make out, for every guy in each of the probably one hundred tubes.

  Which one is Hunter’s?

  Dot sloshed up to me. “The only reasonable thing a person can say upon beholdin’ such madness is—and I quote—‘What a grṳppenhümpfen.’ That’s Doitch fer ‘clusterfuck,’ if ya can wrap yer head around the bilinguality of it.”

  “Are—are they alive?”

  “Their porkenschwǻngers look a tad listless.”

  Yes, when in doubt, check the porkenschwǻngers. Looking more closely at Fluffy Quill’s husband Pokey, I noticed that he had a healthy glow about it. As did all of the men in the closest tubes. Though that could be the rose-colored water.

  Then Pokey’s chest expanded. “He’s breathing!” And if he’s breathing—and has a functional porkenschwǻnger—there’s hope for Hunter.

  I stood on tiptoes and anxiously scanned for Hunter. But my attention was drawn to Camille. Still in lizard form, she was clinging to a cylinder and shouting in a tiny reptilian voice, “Paul! Paul, can you hear me? Hang on! I’m coming in!”

  Dot, Ashley, Megyyn—who had shifted back to human form—and I all raced toward her. By the time we reached the cylinder, she had scampered to the top.

  “Camille,” I yelled, “don’t go in!”

  “But he needs me!”

  “He’s all right.” Please let that be true.

  “He won’t be all right until he’s out of there and next to me!” She poised herself to jump—but I nabbed her by the tail. She wriggled and writhed and swatted at me with her slimy lizard paws. “Let me go, or I’ll bite you!”

  “You don’t even have teeth.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “I know you want to help Paul. I want to help Hunter, and Ashley and Megyyn want to help their men, but—”

  Camille curled her body violently and clamped her mouth onto my finger.

  It tickled.

  She recoiled. “Ow! My teeth.”

  “What?”

  “Notcher fault.” Dot took her. “This happens when yer geckos and such try to chomp on somethin’ they oughtn’ta. Now she’s subsectable to infection.”

  I peeked around a few tubes to see if I could see Hunter as Dot mumbled a few words.

  Dot smiled. “Better?”

  I took a few more steps into the maze—only to be drawn back by Camille’s groans and Dot’s angry shouts.

  “Sodee bread and scorpion jam, why’d ya nip me? All ya done is broke the teeth I just put into yer tiny little head!”

  I shushed them both.

  “I’ll heal ya again,” Dot said more quietly. “But yer on yer own if ya try anything stupid.”

  Dot repeated the spell. Camille smacked her barely perceptible reptilian lips again and ran her little whip-like tongue across her newest set of cute little fangs. “Please put me down so I can shift back into human form.”

  “Now that we’ve dealt with that drama, I’m going to look for—”

  Human Camille pressed her naked body against the glass and sobbed.

  Oh, for crying out loud! “We know he’s alive. We’ll get him out as—”

  Ashley nudged me and made a series of stuttering clicks.

  Fake empathy. “Yes, Ashley, you can look for Billy G.”

  “The problem, Camille, is that this stuff they’re floating in could be—”

  Ashley waved her shredded sleeve in my face and stuttered.

  I stomped my foot. “Ashley, I know—your husband is in one of these jugs, so you need to hear this, too—the fluid may actually be keeping the guys alive.”

  Camille crouched to unscrew the drain plug near the bottom of Paul’s cylinder.

  “Camille—no!” I tried to pull her away, but apparently forgetting that she wasn’t a lizard at the moment, she snapped at my hand.

  “Goddessdamn it, that hurts!” I held up my hand. At least it wasn’t bleeding.

  “I’m sorry, Dr. Pru,” Camille began, but stopped as the overhead lights flickered.

  Thunder rocked the cavern. Megyyn, Dot, Camille and I whirled in confusion. Ashley threw up her arms and gave me an I-was-trying-to-warn-you look as an evil cackle rent the air.

  Hecate in a pointed hat, I hate witch clichés. I looked up at the strobing lights and saw that the walls were painted several shades of purple. And suddenly it all made sense.

  Purple + strawberry scent + witch clichés could mean only one thing.

  Brigid.

  ***

  My nemesis soared above us on her broom. How can that be? It’s a no-fly zone! Her purple robe flapping, she laughed maniacally. The cavern’s acoustics amplified the sound to painful levels. And why am I suddenly surrounded by screechers? Even Ashley covered her ears as we all looked up.

  “Listen to Prubimbo,” Brigid yelled. “It may be the only time in her life that she’s right!”

  No, I was also right when I decided you were a bitch times one thousand. I opened my mouth to shout back, but a movement caught my eye: Dot, pointing her crooked fingers at the ceiling, her scowl honed in on Brigid.

  A pang of fear shot through me. Not because I was worried Dot might bring the cave’s ceiling crashing down. Because I suddenly felt concern for Brigid. As though I liked her. That is fucked up.

  Yet I couldn’t help myself. I jumped into Dot’s line of fire and yelled, “Wait!”

  “Wait? What fer? And how’s come?”

  My heart twinged. Compassion? Fuck that. But, no, it was worse than compassion. Warm feelings. Friendly feelings. Double fuck that! “Um…we need her to tell us what’s going on!”

  “I ain’t gonna kill her—probably—just get her to shut the frap up.” Dot stepped around me and let loose red-hot sparkle rays. Brigid dodged the blast, and a chunk of rock hit the floor.

  Brigid glared at the scar on her purple ceiling, then at Dot. “You old whore! Do you know what a pain in the ass it is to work with elf painters? It took four months to get this done!”

  Dot raised her arm again. “Speaking of pain, expect one in your ass!” She shot a bolt of flaming energy that grazed Brigid’s skinny little boopadoopa and burned a hole in the robe.

  Brigid righted her broom and examined the damage. “My best cape!”

  “That ain’t a cape, it’s a robe,” Dot said. “Don’tcha know the difference?”

  “It’s a cape,” Brigid said, “and I’ll fry you like a wrinkled potato, you old witch.”

  She turned to dive-bomb Dot, but I levitated between them. “Back off, Brigid, or I’ll heal your ass!”

  I felt kind of bad saying it.

  Dot screwed up her face at me. “Not much of a threat, if ya know—”

  Brigid came to a screeching—yes, more screeching!—halt.

  Dot’s jaw dropped. “Well, I’ll be a monkey’s dim-witted third cousin
twice-removed’s hairy armpit! What’s eatin’ her?”

  “She knows that if I literally heal her ass, it might end up where her nose is.”

  “You kin make that happen?”

  “Not if I tried.”

  “So, Vampdenzia,” Brigid yelled, “you think that just because you managed to accidentally blow up that unholy Orgasmism monster you created, you can come in here and mess with my genius plan?”

  She’d called me worse names, but “Vampdenzia” cut. And I didn’t understand why. Brigid was such a wretched person that anyone she liked would have to be a total scumbag. I wanted her to hate me. “You are indeed a genius,” I said, “but people are having a hard time understanding—”

  What the fuck am I saying?

  Camille pushed past me. “Brigid, just last week you healed Paul. What are you doing with him now—and why is he in this…jar?”

  Brigid cackled again. Dot raised her arms. Brigid stopped. “Okay, okay, no more cackling. Just ease up with the blast-O rays, bitch.”

  “Answer the gecko-girlie’s question,” Dot said. “But I’m warnin’ ya, I got enough blasto in me to burn all them red hairs off yer head and send yer eyeballs shootin’ outta their sockets so hard they’d end up a foot deep in the rocks on the other side of the cave.”

  Please, Dot, don’t make her angry.

  Brigid lowered herself to the floor and dismounted her broom. “You want to know my evil plan? I’ll tell you. Behold—my one-hundred-slave army!”

  Camille gasped. Megyyn sneered. Ashley clicked.

  “Allow me to demonstrate.” Brigid held her broom up and shouted, “Men of Douchecanoe—arise!”

  Screened platforms inside the tubes pushed upward until the men stood atop the cylinders, naked, with pink liquid dripping from their hair and skin.

  Camille stretched her arms toward her husband. “Paul! Paul! Are you all right? It’s me—Cami! I’ve come to take you from this place.”

  Paul looked down into his pretty wife’s full-moon eyes. He grunted, turned toward Brigid, looked at her adoringly and extended his arms. “Brigid, my love! My one and only, true forever lavender love! What is your desire?”