by Al K. Line
"Me too. Let's rock."
I grinned my most evilest wizardly smile and Wand went nuts, with my blessing, and under my control. No blaming him for this, I knew exactly what I was doing.
As the women finished their blinking and their mouths slowly opened to gape, and Selma's hand rose at a snail's pace to try to stop everyone going bananas, Wand and I were already deep into it.
I spun in a circle—don't ask me why but it felt like the right thing to do—and as my jacket whipped around my thighs and my hair blew like I was in a gale, I arced Wand across the bodies of the three women who had battered my face, with every intention of chopping them into bits.
Wand spat fiery fury as if he'd exploded. Silver death crackled and popped as he shot his vitriol and my pissed-offness right at them. Their clothes burst into flames instantly and they screamed as reality returned to normal and my vision snapped back to human, which was boring in comparison.
As their heads were engulfed and their long, witchy hair burned and they batted at their bodies, I let rip with another slash. This time the magic shone bright blue against the dull room, lighting it up like a fireworks display.
I hadn't realized quite how annoyed I was by this whole charade until I lowered my arm and watched as the fire burned out on their skulls, leaving them bald, blistered, and screaming in agony. I said a silent spell, one from another time, learned in a place far from here, and their eyes brimmed with fear as their screams were cut off.
Everything was silent, everything was still, and I snarled at them as they gaped, not moving a muscle.
"What... What did you do?" squeaked Selma, aghast.
"Watch," I ordered.
One by one, the women collapsed to their knees. Selma moved forward.
"I said watch. It isn't over yet."
Selma stood still, her eyes widening as the aftereffects of the blue slash through the ether was manifest. The heads dislodged where they'd been severed from their bodies.
One head, two heads, three heads all counted for dropped to the floorboards with a dull, sickly thud.
Selma screamed, the bodies slumped forward, and Vicky stirred from the corner. She popped her head above the blankets, and asked, "What's happening?"
"We're going home, that's what's happening."
I put a hand to my nose. It really hurt.
Calming Down
"Are they dead?" asked Vicky, bleary eyed as she stood up then hastily wrapped the blanket around herself when she realized she was utterly naked.
"No, they've just got bad headaches so they're chilling," I snapped. I dashed forward and slammed the door shut as Selma tried to make her escape. "Where the fuck do you think you're going? This isn't over yet."
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Please don't hurt me. I screwed up, but this wasn't part of the plan. I never knew they were going to beat you, I swear. Oh my God, you killed them. You chopped their heads off!"
"What did you expect? I'm a bloody wizard, the goddamn Hat. You think this is a game? This is real life, little girl, and people get hurt. Especially those that threaten my family. People that screw with me. This is what you got yourself involved in, so suck it up and deal with it."
Looking back on it, I may have overreacted. But threatening my daughter? What did they expect?
Selma stared at me, eyes as wide as an anime character's, then they were drawn once more to the bodies. She lunged for the door again but I slapped my hand onto it and blocked her way. Wand wriggled in my pocket but he'd had enough excitement for one day.
I may have been a little harsh on her. After all, she was young, and this kind of thing isn't your everyday occurrence. By her reaction, this was the first time she'd seen a dead body, certainly any meeting their end in such a violent manner. I had to remind myself she was only a few years older than George, and that although George had seen more terrible things than this, sights like this were something I did my utmost to avoid her witnessing, especially if it was her dad doing the murdering.
"Look," I said, putting my arm around her shoulder, but she stepped away, terrified, "I don't take kindly to people beating the shit out of me, okay? I wouldn't have killed them for it though. But they said they'd hurt George. I can't have that. They got what was coming to them, and if they were your friends then you made some poor choices."
"They were desperate and didn't know what else to do. They thought they could make you help us."
"That's not how this works. Understand? You ask. You say your piece and try to convince me, not force the issue. Why make an enemy when you can make a friend? All this deceit, this impersonating people, this crap with the hacking, the cauldron, the manipulation, where has it got you? Nowhere but pissing me off and three of your friends dead, that's where. So, why don't we start again and you tell me what you want and what's going on, okay?"
Vicky nodded her approval at my change of heart. I nodded back to her, grim-faced, unsure whether this was a good idea or a very bad one. Selma visibly relaxed, a little hope returning. "Let me get you some clothes, then we can talk," she said, and glanced at the door.
"No funny business. Vicky, you go with her. And Selma?" Selma turned at the doorway. "Do not try to screw with me again. Otherwise, you'll be next. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes."
"Watch her," I told Vicky as they disappeared from the room.
Alone, unless you count three geriatric corpses, I sat back down and put my head in my hands. Here we go again. Death, deceit, people letting you down, showing their bad side. The irony of it all was that once again I'd shown myself to be no better than anyone else, had overreacted and taken three lives because I got a bit of a beating.
I should have just hurt them, not killed them. But what if they'd got the better of me? I'd be back to square one and maybe they'd go too far and kill me, or Vicky. After all, they'd forced Vicky to turn then locked me up with her. Maybe they didn't think she'd kill me, but they certainly risked it.
No, as extreme as my actions were, I'd made the right call. It was harsh, some might say psychotic, but I was who I was. I was The Hat. A dangerous man. Such truths are hard to accept, but I'd made peace with it a long time ago. I walked in circles far removed from citizens, and the people I dealt with were often as dangerous, if not more so, than me, so I had to act accordingly if I wanted to continue leading the life I led.
And, may all the gods forgive me, I wanted to continue down this rocky road, live a life full of edginess, violence, and excitement. The alternative? Now that was something to be truly scared of.
I shuddered at the thought. Then I smiled, because I'd already made my mind up. If Selma was genuine, and bless her she seemed like she was, then I would help her. After all, it had been a while since my last adventure, and this one was already well and truly underway.
I glanced at my watch; it was almost time for the girls to be waking up. And I hadn't had breakfast with George the last few days. I grabbed my coat from the corner of the room and found my phone then called her, told her everything was okay and I'd probably be late but we would have dinner together. She said she'd be home.
Whatever happened, however bad the day or the night was, I always tried to have dinner with George. Breakfast too if possible. It was our thing, what kept us close. A little normality as we rode the waves of madness on a sinking ship that one day, inevitably, would succumb to its volatile environment.
Vicky and Selma returned a few minutes later while I remained seated, gathering my thoughts and energy.
"This place is massive," said Vicky looking altogether better now she was dressed. She had on a pair of jeans that were a little baggy, and a black cardigan over a black vest. No prizes for guessing whose clothes they were.
"Don't forget it's nearly time to take the girls to school. You wanna go or you want to call Ivan while we listen to what Selma has to say? Without any bullshit," I added as I gave Selma my best glare.
"I'll make the call," said Vicky, excited. She turned to Selma too and sai
d, "See, I told you he was a big softy really."
All three of us stared at the corpses. "Yeah, that's me, a big softy."
Vicky called Ivan who said he'd get the girls to school, his assistant would do it as she'd come over to help babysit, and Vicky said she'd catch up with him later in the day but we were busy at the moment. Ivan was used to it. He was as much, if not more, part of the game than us.
With our morning cleared, I got to my feet and said, "Now, why don't you make coffee then get talking."
Selma glanced at the bodies once more, then squared her shoulders and said, "Follow me."
Time for answers, and I hoped for her sake she tried nothing stupid.
My Worst Nightmare
"I think there are other people in the house," whispered Vicky as we left the attic.
"No shit, Sherlock."
"Arthur, don't be so mean."
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry. It's just I've been locked in an attic with a wolf all night and three women just beat me to a pulp. Plus, I've had no coffee. Can we please just get this over with? I've promised to hear her out, that's what you want, isn't it?"
"Yes, of course. You're very good. What happened with those women?"
"Later."
We followed Selma down a narrow staircase then emerged onto a large landing. There were at least ten closed doors and the smell of witch was everywhere. I did not feel relaxed but I refused to show it.
Selma glanced back to check we were following then led us down the stairs. I took the opportunity to get a better feel for the place. It was quite spartan but with random items dotted around, a few pot plants, several pictures, and a lot of crap. They'd moved in hastily, hadn't been here long, and were definitely up to no good. The whole house had a certain smell to it that only emanated from witches.
Partially the smell of dirty washing left in a heap, partly incense as they loved a bit of that, and an overriding smell of mysterious chemicals and a lot of lavender. They couldn't get enough of it for some reason.
As we stepped down into the hall, I relaxed a little as I could see the front door. It was large, with stained glass in the main panel and sides. The floor was tiled, intricate abstract patterns popular in the Victorian era, and the decorative cornicing and skirting boards told you all about the property if you knew how to read the signs. Large but not impossibly so, well-designed but not too lavish. The rooms would be generous, with big sash windows, and no doubt the kitchen would have once been small but as with most large Victorian properties it would probably have been expanded either with an extension or by knocking through into other rooms.
It would have also cost a fortune to buy. Large townhouses like this went for crazy money. They simply didn't build them like this any more.
"Arthur, pay attention," said Vicky as she jabbed me in the ribs.
"Ow, that hurt."
Vicky rolled her eyes and indicated with her head that I should look. I snapped out of my architectural appreciation and realized we'd walked into the kitchen while I was still staring at the coving. I was right about the kitchen. It had been knocked through into the dining room, making for a large if very outdated space.
The cupboards were from the sixties, probably worth a lot of money on the retro market now, the oven was one of those freestanding things with the grill on the top, the fridge was one of the first to be made, and most of the room was taken up by a huge table that could easily seat twenty.
And, oh woe is me, take me now Death and never let me return, sat at the table, nursing mugs of strange brews that smelled like flowers stuck in hot water, were nine witches. Another was putting milk away in the fridge.
My worst nightmare had come true, and I panicked inside but forced myself to stare at them without showing signs of weakness. Witches were stressful, always banging on about herbs and the power of little rocks and crystals. Obsessed with trinkets, ruthless when it came to the dangers of eating anything but beans and organic produce, and obsessed with the many and varied uses for hemp, when the only thing I'd ever found it good for was getting off my tits.
And they were all staring at me, aghast.
"It's the hat, isn't it? You like it, don't you?"
Mugs were dropped, hands went to mouths, and the woman who was now by the kettle swore as she got a nasty burn.
"Can I have a coffee, please? I don't think chamomile will do it after the night I've had."
"Everyone," said Selma nervously, "this is Arthur. The Hat. And, um, this is Vicky, his partner."
"Dimwitted sidekick," I muttered.
"Arthur! Pleased to meet you everyone. Um, can I have coffee too please?" Vicky toyed with her ponytail, I just rubbed my beard. Funny how sometimes only the fondling of your own body hair can calm you down.
"Um, there's been a bit of an incident," said Selma quietly. "Sharon, Cece, and Angel are all dead. Arthur, er, chopped their heads off."
Ten witches gasped. Ten witches muttered dangerous spells under their breath. Ten witches reached for their pouches of pot-pourri, or whatever it was they liked to sprinkle when they said their spells.
One wizard gulped and wondered when the coffee would be ready.
"It was an accident," I explained, holding my hands up. Which, looking back on it, probably wasn't the best of ideas. I didn't even remember pulling Wand out of my pocket, but I guess it was easy for them to get the wrong idea.
The Best Coffee
"Whoa! Easy, ladies, just a mistake. See, I'm putting him away."
"What, and make me miss all the fun?" moaned Wand.
"Shut up, or you'll get us into trouble," I may or may not have said out loud.
"I think we're already in trouble, dude. Man, these are some pasty, wrinkly looking bints. It's like an old age pensioner slumber party. They look like hippies steeped in prune juice. All wrinkly and like their clothes are on acid. Are they tripping? They look like they're tripping. Their eyes are all googly looking."
"I said shut up," I ordered through gritted teeth.
One woman, three hundred if she was a day, or maybe she'd just had a hard life and was bad for late fifties, pushed back her chair, adjusted her voluminous skirt that swept the floor as she walked, the chaos of pastel colors making my eyes hurt, and walked right up to me. Surprisingly, she ignored me, and instead stared at Wand.
"I can hear you, you stupid stick," she hissed.
"Oh."
There was an uncomfortable silence, then one of the other women asked, "What did he say?"
"Don't you tell them," said Wand, panicked. "I was just messing about. You all look lovely. Nice dress, goes perfectly with the orange vest. Makes your long, lank, greasy hair shine like a cloud on a shit day."
The witch flicked Wand's tip with her blunt finger.
"Ouch. No need for that. I was paying you a compliment."
"You'll have to excuse my twat of a friend, he doesn't get out much, and he won't be getting out again for a while." I pocketed Wand and he had the good grace to sulk in silence.
"You should teach him some manners," said the woman as she peered up at me. Was it just me or did so many of the most annoying women in my life seem to be short? Or had I grown? I didn't think I had, my clothes still fit.
She turned away and addressed the room. "His familiar was just being cheeky, but it's innocent enough."
"Apart from it, and him, killing three of our own," said another witch. The others murmured their agreement.
"They had it coming," I blurted. "I don't know what you ladies have going on here, but if you think tying people to chairs and beating the crap out of them is okay, then getting your head chopped off is also okay."
"You decapitated them? Our sisters?" asked the witch still worryingly close.
"Yeah. You got a problem with that?"
She turned to Selma and asked, "What happened? I thought you were still out trying to convince him."
"It didn't work, and the others decided to just grab him, bring him back. They said they'd talk to him.
It all got out of hand. I said some stupid things, got flustered, and it all went wrong." Selma began to cry. The women gathered around her, telling her it was okay, muttering about her being too young to be sent on such an important task, me and Vicky forgotten.
While they stank the place up with lavender and what I was sure was patchouli, and what a blast from the past that was, I took the opportunity to go make a cuppa.
I flipped the kettle back on, rummaged around in the cupboards, found two mugs, obviously in the shape of fruit and whatnot as why have a boring old mug when you can have something that looks "interesting" and spooned something that looked and smelled a little like coffee into them.
I was aware that the room had gone silent. I turned from my most important task and found twelve women staring at me in horror.
"What? Oh, sorry, anyone else want a cuppa?"
The silence and the staring continued.
"Is he funny in the head?" asked one witch.
"No, he's just not very good with manners," said Vicky, shaking her head in dismay.
"What have I done?" I asked.
"You chopped the heads off three of our sisters," screamed a very tall witch with hair longer and grayer than the rest.
"Oh, that. Yes, I did. And if any of you have a problem with that then now is the time to speak up." The kettle switched off and I glanced at it then back at the women. "Actually, hold that thought. I need a drink first. So, anyone else want a drink or not? And you better all want it the same way. I'm not dicking about making thirteen drinks where everyone wants something different and some take sugar, others don't."
"He is definitely funny in the head," said another witch.
"A screw loose," said another.
"You sure this is him? The Hat?" asked the one with the long dress, although, actually, that didn't narrow it down to any less than excluding me, Vicky, and Selma.
"It's him," said Selma. "And I blew it. He didn't fall for the hacking ruse, he agreed to listen at the cabin, but I got nervous and pretended I'd already stolen the cauldron, then the others knocked him out and made Vicky turn wolf and locked them upstairs in the attic and put a ward up so none of you would know. I'm sorry."