Triple Toil and Trouble

by Constance Barker

  Looking like a surprised otter, if such a thing could be, Quinn cast around and summed up the situation.

  “We halt this spell to attain forms primary

  And declare that this pause is but temporary.”

  Harvest immediately went from flopping to crawling. She got her knees under her and ran for—

  (Stop thinking about it!)

  “Aw, man, naked!” Echo cried as Quinn ran past her.

  “Let’s get out of here!”

  Echo stood, covered in golden goop. She slapped her sternum. “Hold on. I know what I’m doing.”

  “Echo, for Pete’s sake!” Harvest started. But suddenly, the alligator things turned away as if choreographed.

  “That way,” Echo said. “Go over there.”

  Making really awful gibbering noises, the creatures slunk away, slipped into the water and moved—well, the river didn’t seem to move up or downstream

  (Stop thinking about it!)

  Harvest felt herself shaking. Not with cold. She didn’t feel cold, despite being wet. The water didn’t evaporate off of her, the mud did not slide, the air did not press against her skin as she moved. There was nothing. Nothing.

  “Harvest, stop thinking about it!”

  Quinn glanced around, eyes widening. “Look.”

  Following her point, Harvest saw a triangle of bright orange. She crouched over it, pulling from leaves that had flattened against the ground (Stop thinking about it!)

  “Holy cow, it’s a life vest.” She studied the mud. Footprints. Small sneaker footprints. They led into the, the, the

  Suddenly, Quinn was at her side, gripping her shoulders. “You were always the most rational one, Harvest, but you have to let it go. It’s weird here. Don’t fight it. If you fight it, you’ll be lost.”

  She looked over at Echo, naked save for the mud and the amulet around her neck. “Well, I guess we could’ve brought the grimoire and my magic sunglasses.”

  “Sure. Next time. Let’s follow these tracks.” Quinn turned her toward the trail.

  Blue leaves rose in pyramid shapes toward impossibly large trunks. Above, roots shook, sending sparks into the air. Harvest thought they were kind of pretty, these upside-down, sparking trees. She then suppressed the urge to vomit.

  The footprints led between mounds of flattened leaves. Steeling herself, she followed along.

  “Leave the scuba stuff here. We’ll worry about that if we find the boy,” Quinn said.

  “When we find the boy,” Echo said.

  That’s it, stay positive, Harvest thought. Stay positive, and try not to go insane. As she thought this, a swarm of bugs descended from the roots. No...not bugs. What she saw were fanged mouths, hanging open, suspended by multiple wings that fluttered without direction.

  “Harvest, stop thinking about it!” Echo shouted.

  She ran for cover of the root canopy, doubting it was any safer, or any saner.

  Chapter 15

  ECHO WORRIED FOR HARVEST as she watched her sister stumble around, bug-eyed and pale beneath her mud covering. Of all of them, their middle sister was the most grounded. She thought of Quinn as a compulsive do-gooder, often to her detriment...think Uncle Nick. Echo thought of herself as a free spirit, at best a woman who thought outside the box, and at worst a lazy goof-off. Harvest, however, was practical, sensible, someone who told her to put on her boots when there was snow, to climb out of that tree before she broke her neck, that money didn’t grow on trees. Of the three of them, Harvest had always been the most stable, the most adult. This worked against her in this topsy-turvy place.

  Harvest’s mind was structured, like brick-and-mortar. That stone fortress of a brain now stood in earthquake territory. Without much give, it could tumble to pieces. Echo could not let that happen, because this inherent steadiness also served them best in dangerous situations.

  “Bobby!” She called.

  Both sisters started at the sound of her voice. Which was kind of what she wanted. They had to get back on point. Above, the root canopy tangled up some of the winged mouths. The mouths exploded in a brownish powder, making the roots clatter. As if they were happy. Echo reeled it in again. Task at hand, she thought, stick to the task at hand. “Bobby!”

  Harvest shook herself from her terror. “I’m seeing more footprints. Unless one of these monsters evolved to have sneaker-shaped feet—”

  Echo hurried to her side. “You’re thinking too much. Let’s just go with action.”

  “Hard to act, hard to do anything,” Quinn stumbled behind them. “The stillness of this place—it’s in my brain.”

  Echo grabbed her sisters’ hands. “Sure we’re three naked chicks in an alien dimension, but we’re also part of this dimension. We’re witches, we know what we’re doing.”

  While she expected derisive chuckles, she got a nod from Harvest and Quinn squeezed her hand. Maybe they believed her more than Echo believed herself.

  QUINN FOCUSED ON THE one thing that made sense in this area of the Twih; the trail of footprints. With Harvest and Echo close, she followed, the prints winding around the conical stacks of leaves, into a dark catacomb formed of a thousand immense branches. They hurried through, and Quinn worried that if they lost the trail, they would be lost themselves.

  A fluttering caught her attention. Fearing more of the winged mouths descended on them, she instead saw a gathering of furry, rust-colored squirrels. They clucked and shivered on a branch above. Cute! She thought. Until each of them spread membranous wings and bared blocky, human-like teeth. One of them soared into the sky, tiny claws grabbing a lone flying mouth. But the squirrel exploded into feathery bits that the mouth inhaled.

  Damn this place.

  The other squirrels bombarded them with pumpkin-sized nuts.

  “Echo, freaky squirrels!” She cried.

  “Just keep moving,” Echo said. A nut hit her in the shoulder. “Ow-ah!”

  Quinn ran to keep up with the others as they followed the footprints. How could a kid possibly survive in this?

  “Bobby!” she shouted. “Bobby!”

  How could they survive in this?

  LOGIC WAS THE ENEMY here, Harvest understood. Understanding was a long way from comforting. She stopped focusing on the wilderness, life that defied evolution, half-familiar forms each with a shocking twist—or two or three. Instead, it was only the footprints on the ground she looked at, followed with determination.

  The running footprints headed toward a distant hum. Harvest ignored the hum, knowing only that at the end of the trail would be a boy. More horrors, more mind-bending sights, more nightmare vistas from which she would want to run from, screaming her head off, yes, but she concentrated on the boy. Bobby. Bobby was at the end of the tracks.

  After a few minutes’ jog, the hum could no longer be ignored. It was low, loud enough to shake her bones. It intensified by her right ear. She felt a soft brush against her cheek.

  “Harvest, look out!” Echo cried from behind her.

  She whirled. A violet powder puff whizzed around her head. Unlike nearly everything else here, it had no wings, no visible means to maneuver through the air, no eyes or legs, only a deep angry buzz. The ambient hum now intensified into low anger. A thousand powder puffs fountained from a hole in the ground. Moving into that hole, of course, were Bobby’s footprints.

  “He’s in the hive,” Harvest pointed.

  “Hive? These aren’t bees, Harvest,” Echo said. “Run!”

  “No, the Grams’ spell. We have to try it,” Harvest said. It was very much on the logical side, but she had nothing else. “Buzzy, Fuzzy, say it with me! Buzzy—”

  The others joined in, a rhyme the Grams used when their bees got unruly. The three of them had heard it, a rhythmic, comforting chant, all their lives, rocked to sleep by the sound, comforted and held, warm and safe. They chanted (albeit a bit hysterically):

  “—fuzzy, we bid you thrive, attend your home, defend your hive

  Ignore your curiosities, c
ollect your nectar from the trees

  And flowers bloomed, their essence take, with it your wax and honey make

  Think not of human mysteries, your strength lies in community.”

  The puffballs from the ground now gathered around her, pressing in, smothering her with their nearly insubstantial forms. Yet they weren’t hurting her. “Again!”

  ECHO HAD ALWAYS LOVED Buzzy, Fuzzy. The Grams still said it when bees got into the workshop when they were filtering wax or pouring candles. It brought to mind Gramma Em, holding her in her rocking recliner when she was a little girl, of Aunt Mary pushing her too high on the long-gone swing set in the north field. It spoke of a harmony between their species, human and insect. Even in the deepest Twih, it calmed her thoughts and filled her with warmth. It was silly, really—

  But it worked.

  Purple puffs now hummed behind them, urging them toward the hole in the ground. Of course, in this higgledy-piggledy place, these bee-like creatures could be carnivores.

  “Bobby?” Harvest started down the hole first, sliding on an unseen slope, and vanishing into the ground. A tornado of puffs circled above.

  Quinn followed, with Echo close behind. The inside was brighter than the branch caves, an ambient purplish light, warm and without source, illuminated the chamber. There were no hexagonal cells, no honeycomb that she recognized. From the entrance, she counted thirteen caves leading away. Thirteen ways to get lost once they left this hub, she thought.

  A squadron of purple puffs swished by, heading through a passage to the right. The three shrugged at each other and followed. Echo could feel the hum of the things in her feet. She felt a floral breath from ahead, the first thing she’d really felt since they landed in the Twih.

  Harvest stopped short with a gasp. Echo looked past her shoulder. Against the wall of the spherical chamber she saw what looked like a translucent amethyst sleeping bag, a tiny face peeking out. But no, not a sleeping bag—a cocoon. The sisters approached cautiously.

  He looked a little like Ryker. But who else could be in the Twih? “Bobby, are you okay?”

  “Mom?” Bobby spoke, but did not open his eyes.

  Purples puffs swarmed over the boy, and in a moment, he was free of the sheath. He wore a plaid shirt, jeans, the little sneakers that had left a trail. Harvest crouched down. “I got him. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  Chapter 16

  LIKE A FIGHTER JET escort, the powder puffs followed them through the branch catacombs. They buzzed away flying mouths, the terrible squirrels. Quinn felt thankful they had allies in the Twih. They reached the root arch of the portal much quicker than they had the underground hive.

  Scuba gear lay around in the mud. Echo gathered it up. She stopped, waving as the powder puffs returned home. “Thanks, purple puffs.”

  As quickly as they could, they hung the scuba tank on the little boy. Echo adjusted the mask and gently put the mouthpiece in.

  “How do we do this?” Harvest gazed at the great sphere of the portal, green depths of the reservoir held in check. “If we turn into fish people here, we’ll flounder in the mud again. If we do it on the other side, we’ll drown.”

  “Do you remember the spell, the one that turned Echo into a...”

  “Were-seal,” Echo said.

  “Selkie?” Harvest tried.

  Quinn shook her head. “Whatever. I think we say it together, and jump through on the last word.”

  Harvest’s face tightened in disbelief. “Are you just making this up?”

  “It’s all I can think of.”

  With a wince, Echo put her palm over her sternum. “I think the alligators are coming back.”

  “Fine, let’s do it,” Harvest said.

  Quinn lifted the scuba-clad boy. They got close, Echo and Harvest each putting a hand on her shoulders. “Ready?”

  Her sisters didn’t look ready. They looked scared. Quinn nodded.

  “We claim by our birthright animal dominion...”

  At the last word, shape, they leapt as one. Brilliance blinded her. Quinn felt a frigid, crushing grip. The spell hadn’t worked!

  Just as panic set in, the frozen fist let go. She saw that her sisters were... well, water-ready, was the only thing that came to mind. They were safe.

  Bubbles rose from Bobby’s scuba stuff. Echo gave him the once-over, and thrust her thumb upward. Good to go.

  HARVEST WASN’T SURE being a seal-woman was better than being in the Twih. Not with her nose and ears clenched against the water pressure and the slippery feeling of fur all over. Of course, her brain didn’t feel like it was being deep-fried, so there was that.

  When Echo gave the thumbs-up, they headed for the door of the submerged lab. Harvest was last in line, but stopped. A glimmer caught her eye.

  The glow of the buried sphere of the portal reflected on something on the floor. She turned back, swishing away the mud and algae. Her aquatic-phased eyes easily caught the shape. A ring. She waved her hand, shaking it clean.

  “Harvest!”

  Bell-like, yet warbly, she heard Echo call to her. With a swish of her tail, she exited the ruin. The water was pitch black now, yet she could still see the mucky bottom. Of course time passed much quicker in the Twih. It was probably early, early in the morning now, even though they had dived at sunset.

  She swam upward. Now that she was used to this shape, she had to admit it wad kind of fun. And then it wasn’t.

  The water turned freezing cold in a flash. Breath in her lungs felt squeezed. Her brain begged for air. She was human again, and deep beneath a nighttime reservoir. Cold made her limbs creak, each motion a painful effort. But she kicked, stroked, felt like she moved through slush. At first her skin chilled painfully, despite her panicky workout. Then, she went numb.

  No surface appeared above her. Because it was dark, she told herself. Was she even moving in the right direction? Harvest didn’t dare stop to see in which direction she floated. If she couldn’t reach the surface soon, she would drown.

  Black blossoms opened before her eyes. Her swimming became weaker with every stroke. She found it ironic that she would survive the impossible Twih only to die in an ordinary reservoir, one she had lived near her whole life.

  Silence. Darkness.

  Hands gripped her and dragged her up. When her face broke the surface, she gasped, breathing in her own splashing, and coughed until she thought she would pass out again. Seal-faced Echo shook her. “Harvest, what happened?”

  Then, Echo’s eyes rolled back in her head, her body quaking. Pinniped features squirmed back to human form. Her younger sister let out a low moan and sank into the water. Harvest gripped Echo from behind and kicked hard.

  “Harvest, what the hell?”

  “Don’t touch me, Quinn! Just tell me which direction the shore is.”

  “You’re going the right way. It isn’t far. Let me help—”

  “No! Stay back.” Harvest angled her head until she caught a glimpse. Quinn still looked like a seal-lady. She held the boy in her arms. “Just trust me.”

  Grunting and kicking, she finally felt the mud of the bottom beneath her feet and dragged Echo out of the water. Panting, hurt, she lay on the bank. She heard Quinn spelling a few feet away.

  “I shed this form, this bestial cape

  And now resume my human shape.”

  Legs splashed in the water as human Quinn strode up the bank with her burden. “Yikes, that’s cold!” She lay Bobby on the grass, removing the scuba gear. “What happened to you and Echo?”

  “I’m an idiot.” Harvest held up the ring.

  Quinn stared hard. “Is that jade?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  Jade disrupted their magic. Had Harvest known the stone was Jade—

  She studied it more closely. “I may be an idiot, but I’m also a genius.”

  “Echo’s going to be in a bad way. She was the primary for the spell. To have it broken like that...”

  Breaking a spell seriously hurt a wit
ch. It could also make her lose her powers. Quinn gently patted her cheek. “Echo? Echo? Can you hear me?”

  “Peanut butter,” Echo groaned.

  Harvest managed to sit up. “Sorry to inform you, but I’m way too tired to carry her anywhere. I couldn’t even carry the kid.”

  Both sisters reacted to a frothing splash on the reservoir. A whirlpool spun in the moonlight. In a few moments, the surface calmed.

  “What was that?”

  Harvest shivered. “Hopefully not one of those alligator-things. I’m too exhausted to do anything but lie here.”

  “We’ve gotta get Bobby to the hospital,” Quinn said. “Maybe Echo, too.”

  “I can’t, Quinn. I need to rest. We should call the Grams.” She looked down at herself. “Except we’re naked and I don’t know where my cell phone is. Where did our stuff go?”

  Quinn knelt over here. “Can you at least make it to the house?”

  “Up that freakin ridge? Look, Quinn,” she held up shaking hands, “I can barely sit up. I can’t feel my feet or my fingers. Not even a six-legged alligator could make me get up right now.”

  “You’re spell-shocked too, I guess.” Quinn sat in the grass. “Where did you find that ring anyway?”

  “On the floor of the lab.” She held it up to the moonlight. “It’s a clue. Maybe even evidence.”

  “Evidence of what?”

  Both of them jumped at the sound of a wolf whistle.

  “All right! Party naked! Finally, you’ve succumbed to my animal magnetism.”

  “Leshy. Damn it,” Harvest growled. “Fine, whatever, I’ll grab the boy. Let’s get to the house.”

  “I thought not even a six-legged alligator could make you get up.”

  The effort brought tears to her eyes, but Harvest rose. She picked up the unconscious boy. “There are worse things than six-legged alligators. Let’s go before I fall back down.”

  Chapter 17

  “MY GOODNESS, WHERE have you been? What happened to Echo? Who’s this boy?” Gramma Em opened the front door as Quinn and Harvest slogged up the porch steps.