by Paul Kater
"You make it sound as if I wanted to get him here," she said to Baba Yaga with a small pout, and a hint of accusation in her voice.
The Russian witch just smiled. "I say nothing. I ask a question and you are going to answer it. It appears to me that William would like to know also, Hilly."
William nodded, which earnt him a mean look from Hilda. "Careful, buster, there is enough room against the wall," she warned him. "And you are not going to stop me. It's only the dress, not the abilities you wear. Remember that."
William raised his hands as in defense. "Okay, okay, no need to get excited. I have seen what can happen when you get excited."
Baba Yaga screamed for cackling laughter. "I love the boy," she yelled out, "if you don't want him, I'll take him off your hands, Hilda!"
William's heart almost stopped beating. He would prefer death than be with Hilda's best girlfriend.
The wicked witch raised her eyebrows. Then she looked at William, as if she was examining him, seeing him for the first time. It felt to the subject under scrutiny as if Hilda was going over him even more thoroughly than Babs had done. "Nah, I'll keep him for now," was her conclusion.
William's heart took heart and resumed full responsibility for life again.
"I am teaching him to fly a broom," Hilda giggled then. "We were out doing the rounds this morning. And he keeps himself well on a broom." She had to give Baba Yaga the full account of how they had scared the shit out of the shepherds, to which the Russian witch treated William to a deafening and bloodchilling cackle again. It did not bother Hilda one bit, as her being a witch rendered her immune to the impact of it, contrary to what it did to ordinaries.
After she had calmed down, Baba Yaga looked at William. "You are probably not aware of the compliment she gave you just now, about keeping yourself on the broom, Willaim. Take it from me, you can't get much better from her than that."
Hilda seemed to ignore the entire remark. "So you see, I got a bit upset and that got me a guest in the house."
Baba Yaga nodded.
"And there is more to be upset about." Hilda told about the disappearance of Gerdundula and the visit of a giant Lamador in the garden there.
"Ouch. That is definitely worrying, Hilda," Baba Yaga agreed. "If he sends out his Grizbles like that. And you floored one?", she asked William.
He showed his red and partly skinless knuckles. "Yes. Still bear the medals for it."
Baba Yaga looked at Hilda. "And you let him walk around with that? After he caught the thing?"
Hilda looked guilty. "Yes," she admitted.
"Tsk tsk tsk..."
"Alright... give me your hand," Hilda said to William.
She did not need a wand. She murmured something, blew over his knuckles and the skin was healed, the red streaks were gone, as was the pain. "There. Good as new." She stared at the hand a while longer before she let go of it. Then she looked at the visiting witch again. "So Lamador is heavily on the prowl. He is taking witches out, probably to boost himself. And I'm- not very happy with that," she changed the ending of her words.
The ugly witch made the teapot go round for refills as she was thinking about everything that Hilda and William had told her.
"Hmmm..." After a while: "Yeah...", combined with some nodding of her head.
William looked at Hilda, his face all questions. She shook her head and and gestured him to remain silent.
Babs nodded again. "I think the solution is quite simple, Hilly baby. You asked for help and you cast magic. Then William came. So you got your help in that form. There must be something he can do, or that he knows that can help you."
A true unbeliever, Hilda stared at the other woman. "Please, Babs, go kid someone else and not me. I mean..." She took William's hand and held it up. "Is he going to whack Lamador in the face and decide the challenge that way for me?" She put the man's hand on the table again, forgetting to take hers off it. "I don't think so."
William stared at the small fine hand that calmly rested on his as Hilda kept talking with Baba Yaga.
Babs noticed it too, but did not make a remark about it. "I don't think that will be the way, Hilda. There's a fine challenge for you two, before the big one. Has Lamador already called a date and a place? No? Good, then you still have at least three moons to figure it out. And I am serious about that, Hilda. And that goes for you as well, William. Work on this. It must be worth it."
"You know that I value your opinion, Babs," Hilda said.
"Yes. That is why I came. You're not coming to get it, you're too bloody stubborn for that, so I thought I'd come by and shove it up your ass. As well as have a look at your mystery-man."
That triggered Hilda to quickly pull back her hand. "Yeah, that's you. Curious as a witch."
Baba Yaga and Hilda laughed again. William had seen it coming this time, and had his ears covered.
Babs then magicked up a very dusty bottle. It was not made of glass, but of something that looked like ceramic. The top did not have a cork, but was sealed with beeswax. "I think this calls for a little drink," the witch announced. "Too bad that Hilda can't take it. That is something you need to know, William, she does not react well to stronger liquid spirits. She waters things down, and for a reason. I hope you, as a man, can take it?"
"William, be careful," said Hilda. There was genuine concern in her voice, something that made him look at her.
"Maybe I can try a little bit, Baba Yaga," he said, and Hilda nodded. Little bit was good.
Suddenly there were three glasses, one with a very light rose and two empty ones that did not hold their state for long, as Baba Yaga chopped off the wax top and filled both glasses. And to the rim.
"A little bit," William grinned, eyeing the glass.
The witches raised their glasses. William joined them, and they toasted. Baba Yaga threw the contents of her glass in her mouth as if it were a sip of water. Hilda sampled her rose and judged it watered down enough. William tried the heavy red wine. It was thick as syrup and the smell already hit him in the face. He tried it.
"Gods!! When I drink that, you can order my coffin!" William got red in the face and had to put down the glass, as the powerful wine tried to burn itself a hole through him and into the ground.
Hilda handed him a glass of water and he drank that, which brought instant relief to his inner world. "Babs, that was mean."
The Russian witch giggled and waved over the glass. "It should be better now." As William looked at her with worry all over his face, she added: "Really. Trust me."
Just to be on the safer side, he also looked at Hilda, who nodded this time. "Witches," he sighed.
"Yes, and we'll keep reminding you!", grinned Babs.
"We?", Hilda whispered, frowning.
William missed that, and the glances that went over the table, as he was tasting the wine again, with his eyes closed. This time it was pure gold to drink. "Oh, now this is good," William told the world, that consisted of two witches.
"I'm glad you like it, William," Baba Yaga said. "Tell you what: you can call me Babs, and I'll call you Willy."
"Oh no, I am not a Willy type of person," William shook his head.
"You'll get used to it, Willy," said the ugly witch.
William knew there was nothing he could do to change this. No way he could go against a witch and win. Instead he said: "Hilda, weren't we going to eat?"
"Oh, crap, I forgot. You're right. Babs, want to stay for a bite?"
Baba Yaga scratched her head. "Maybe I should go. Still a good flight home, Hilly. On the other hand, flying on an empty stomach is not that great either."
"Right, that settles it," Hilda said, "you're staying and I'll make something real quick."
"Let me know if you need a hand," William said as Hilda left for the kitchen.
"I think I can handle my kitchen better than you, but you're welcome to join," she laughed as she stepped out of view. Her head turned around the door opening. "Although you did a good job on breakfast
this morning. I have to say."
Babs looked at William. "You were in her kitchen? To make food? Man, you got nerves."
"Less of them now," William admitted, "some burnt out already." His reward was another glass of wine.
"Clear the table, it's coming!", Hilda yelled from the kitchen.
This was a new approach for William. He saw Baba Yaga quickly grab glasses and the bottle, so he saved his own glass and some other things that lay around. And not a moment too soon. Six large plates came sailing into the room and landed on the table, two for each person. One had something hot on it, the other a cold salad.
Hilda sauntered in then, with forks and knives.
"Holy Bejeebus, you've not been in that crazy kitchen for more than a minute," William stammered. "You give a whole new meaning to fast food."
Hilda handed the eating utensils around and sat down. "Sometimes you say the strangest things, William."
12. Making things work
Baba Yaga had left them, leaving the bottle as a welcoming gift to William. She had invited them over for a return visit, as that "might be refreshing for William, seeing the home of another kind of witch". They had heard her cackling laughter for quite a while as Babs had flown off.
It was late in the evening now, and they were sitting at the large black table. Both crystal balls were there. Hilda had her wand on the table also. They were trying to brainstorm about what Babs had said, that their working together had to be the key.
"I can't get it that she was so convinced about you being the solution to my problem," Hilda said as she sipped her water. She was not taking risks this evening. "I think it was just a stupid coincidence that you came here."
William was not certain of what he had to think of it. The explanation of Babs sounded logical, but logic was something else in this world. Bring in witches and logic bails out through the nearest window.
"I really wouldn't know, Hilda."
"Isn't there anything magical you can do? Not even the smallest, simplest bit like making my wand fly?" After all, a wand was loaded with so much magic that it hardly needed encouragement to fly.
William frowned. "Since when is that simple? I sell books, Hilda. I am engulfed in the magic of books, fabulous old books. Books that are handwritten, or printed by hand with woodblocks, bound in leather and still holding the smell of monasteries."
"Monasteries. Hah. No good for me now," Hilda said, and she was right. "Then what is it that you know that can help me? Do your handwritten books say something about going against a sorcerer who is not playing by the rules and about to beat the crap out of me? Or worse?" The witch looked tired all of a sudden, and desperate. "Urgh..." She sank her head on her folded arms that rested on the table. "I don't want all this crap, Wiliam. I want to fly around and do what I do best. Not stuff like this."
William felt sorry for the woman on the other side of the table. "I really wish I could tell you something to make you feel better."
Her face still on her arms, she asked: "Do you know how much it sometimes sucks having to do everything alone?"
William got up and sat down next to Hilda. He put an arm around her schoulders and pulled her against him, which, to his surprise, she allowed to happen. She even leaned into him. "Okay, I may not be able to do very much for you, Hilda," he said, "but for now you are not alone. According to Babs I am here for a reason. We both are looking for it, but I don't think we'll be able to figure that out this very evening. We still have three moons."
"Yeah," Hilda said, her eyes closed, "but it makes me nervous still. And what the hell are you doing?" Her voice did not change in volume or emotion as she spoke, it sounded as if the question was a logical part to her statement.
"I am holding you, so you feel you are not alone."
"Oh."
They sat in silence for a while.
"And what else are you doing?", Hilda asked.
William, his thoughts drifting over things that had happened, was pulled back to the living room and the witch that was still leaning into him. "Uhm... thinking?"
The witch slowly shook her head, her long grey hair spreading out over the blue robe William wore. "Something else. I can feel it."
The salesman wondered what she could mean. He did nothing special, just enjoying the feeling and holding her. "Is it something bad?"
"You'd know if it was bad, believe me. I don't handle bad feelings well..." Hilda purred like a kitten.
"Want me to put you in your bed?", William asked, with only proper intentions.
"Yes... NO!" She sat up, pushing herself away from him and stared at him. "No, no, you can't do that!" Her cheeks became so red that it was clearly visible even in the light of the candles on the table. Then quickly she got up and moved to the other side of the table, her eyes fixed on his face. "I mean, I know you can, but I don't know- No, you shouldn't."
The witch bit her lip for a moment. "I'm taking a bath and then I go to sleep." She kept looking at William, as if she wanted to will him to remain where he was.
"Of course, Hilda," the guest said, "if that is what you want then that is what you should do. I'll stay downstairs and read some of the books. Just let me know when you're done."
"Hmm. Okay. Just you stay down here. No peeking, or you're out of the house faster than you can think." Her tone was defensive, her heartbeat was high and she felt insecure and confused.
"Don't worry. I'll be good."
Hilda nodded and went up the stairs, mumbling and muttering.
William listened to her go until a door closed and the sounds that the witch made were cut off. Then he picked up one of the books that Hilda allowed him to read. He put a few candles closer by so he had enough light to read. "Right. What do we have here... 'Manifesting protection - an introduction'..."
Hilda sat in her bathtub, staring at the purple bubbles, soap making her hair stand out in all directions. "Suck an elf," she muttered. "Why doesn't he open up about his magic. He does something, the rat, and he says he's innocent." She threw her sponge in the tub, splashing water around. "I wish I hated it. Argh."
He had been so wrapped up in the book that he had not heard Hilda come down again.
"William, bathroom's free."
"Huh? Oh, thanks." He looked at her and smiled. She wore a bright red housecoat that hung to her ankles. Her hair was still damp, her face soft in the dim light that reached the bottom of the stairs. He noticed she was barefoot. "I'm almost done with this chapter. Sleep well, Hilda."
"Yeah, you too." She lingered at the stairs, a hand on the handrail. "And thank you for this evening." As if she was fleeing, she turned and quickly ran up the stairs, finding refuge in her room.
Soon peace and quiet descended over most of the magical house. Exception was Hilda's bedroom, where a witch lay tossing and turning and worrying.
Despite the early hour Hilda already sat in the room at the table when William came quietly down the stairs. She wore the bright red long housecoat again.
"Good morning," she said, turning her head to him as she heard him. "You're up early."
"Look who's talking," he grinned as he sat down opposire her. He was in the grey velvet trousers and the shirt. And barefoot.
Hilda had made tea already and without asking she poured him a cup. "You know, there is something from your insane world that I miss. It's that stuff you call coffee. I've tried to conjure that up a few times but it's never the real thing."
"You need the proper beans for it," he admitted, "otherwise it will be quite difficult."
"Beans..." Hilda repeated the word in disbelief and snorted. She looked out of the window and watched the sun rise.
"Why are you up so early? Habit?", William asked.
The wicked witch, not looking or feeling very wicked at that moment, shrugged. "Just happened. And you?"
"Just happened. And habit, somewhat." He got up. "I'm making breakfast."
She looked up at him. "Let me do that. It's safer."
"No way," he sa
id, gently pushing her back on the chair as she wanted to rise. "I've survived once, I'll manage again."
"Bloody hell you will," she said, using a spark of magic to stand up despite his hand, "I'm the one who makes breakfast here, got that? This is my house, and you're the guest."
"And I'm the one who sees you slept terrible, so I'm making breakfast."
Argueing like an old couple they went to the kitchen. Hilda tried to block the entrance by putting herself in it, but William simply picked her up and sat her down on a sideboard after which he marched into the kitchen.
"Hey, you... you..." Hilda's flaring-up anger prevented her from finding the proper word. She jumped from the sideboard and ran after him, snatching the apron from his hands and holding it behind her back. "How dare you!"
"Easy," the guest in the house said as he tried to grab the apron from her. For that he reached behind her with both hands, catching her in his arms. As he did so, her arms were pressed against her sides, virtually immobilising her.
"You are NOT making breakfast!", she exclaimed. In a reflex she changed the apron into a rope as he took it. The rope flung itself around his wrists. "Ha, gotcha!", she gloated, knowing he was tied up.
It took William a few seconds to understand that his arms were indeed tied together. Then he grinned. "Looks like we got eachother, miss Witch."
"Crap," Hilda admitted. She was still caught in his arms, and because of the rope he could not let go of her.
"Like this we are not getting any closer to breakfast, Hilda, so if you just untie my hands," William offered.
"Oh, right, and then all this starts again, right? I don't think so." Hilda exhaled, making herself as thin as she could and dropped herself to her knees. Quickly she got up, her wand already in her hand. "Now you go sit down at the table, or I'll make you."
William, hands tied, grinned, watching her rather thin frame. "You'll make me?"
Her eyes became slits. Her wand pointed at his legs. "You will walk to the table and sit down."