Gertie's Paranormal Plantation: A Paranormal Romantic Comedy

by James, Melanie

  Now, I had to agree with Esmeralda. Randy was obviously hiding something. Still, he was right. It wasn’t anyone else’s business and certainly I didn’t want to see my friend humiliated. “Leave Randy be.” It certainly didn’t have anything to do with the fact that he was gay. I was a little curious, but I had more important things on my mind. Randy sat back down by me and slipped his phone into my hand. The page with the news story he had been reading was still on the screen.

  Mardi Gras Storage Hit by Burglars in Overnight Break-in.

  I quickly scanned through the article and I soon saw what had caught Randy’s interest. The items that were stolen were from a Viking themed float. I wondered about the coincidence of Norse magic on the plantation and an odd burglary of Viking costumes nearby. I didn’t have to wonder about it long.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Raided By A Viking

  “Brrrrerrrrewww,” that’s the only way I can describe the sound in the backyard. Perhaps you could say it was like some lunatic was blowing with all their might on a French horn. It repeated two more times.

  Randy cocked his head and listened, the same as me. “Sounds like one of your monsters caught a head cold, Gertie. Maybe Wanda ought to take a look.” He walked over to the window to see what creature it was. “Gertie? I think you ought to come and take a look at your man, Brad. He’s back and he’s acting about as crazy as a kangaroo on crack.”

  I took Randy’s place at the window. “Brad! Thank God!” Brad was dressed up in a gaudy Mardi Gras Viking costume, carrying a silvery shield in one hand and an oversized horn from a bull in the other. I threw open the window. “Brad! Hi! Where were you?” Brad looked up and yelled in a foreign language that I recognized from the spell, Old Norse. I grabbed Randy by the back of his shirt. “Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Randy? What did we do?”

  “I think we brainwashed Brad into thinking he’s a Viking raider. Jesus. Look at him. It’s not even a real Viking outfit.” I knew what Randy meant. It was a shiny, feathery, and rainbow themed disaster. “Oh my. Gertie, he’s wearing canary yellow spandex. Look! Behind him. The brute is pulling the Viking long-ship float all by himself.” A heavy rope was wrapped over Brad’s broad chest and led back to the parade float. The float lurched forward with each determined, helmet feather waving step Brad took. Randy made a deadpan joke. “All aboard for Gay Mardi Gras.”

  “It was the spell of Groa. Wasn’t it?” I whispered to Randy.

  The others crowded Randy and me away from the window.

  A growling sound percolated up from someplace deep inside of Marie. “All right. Now you two need to spill it. What exactly are you hiding? What in the wide world of witchcraft possessed you to turn a steaming hot alpha male into…” She shook an index finger in Brad’s direction. “Whatever that is out there.”

  “Um, Marie? I believe the common name is a Vi-queen,” Randy said at a near whisper volume.

  “It—it’s my fault, Marie. I tried out a spell I found. Some Norse magic spell of Groa. I was trying to bewitch Brad into deciding to move in with me.”

  Marie stomped her foot and unleashed her anger upon us. “Damn it! What is it with you two? A spell of Groa? That’s necromancy.” I could tell how appalled she was. It was as if I had just told her that I decided to give cannibalism a try. “It’s black magic! Old school, evil sorcery, and you know…you both know damn well that it’s forbidden for general use. Necromancy is extremely dangerous. It’s not something to be played with by below average imbeciles.”

  I took a step back. “I didn’t know that! I swear. Maybe we—we could f-find some above average imbeciles to reverse it? Are you one?”

  Randy jerked my ear closer and whispered. “An imbecile is an idiot.”

  I quickly set things straight. “Oh, and I also didn’t know what an imbecile was. Until just now. I thought imbecile meant a special witch, like yourself.”

  Marie growled and rubbed her forehead. The heel of her palm pushed the skin up in little ridges and I thought her face was going to peel off without warning. “And did you succeed in conjuring the spirit of the evil witch, Groa?” Marie asked.

  Randy was genuinely excited to finally learn why we had such a bad experience. “Ahhh! So that’s who that was! We were wondering why some enormous spooky thing appeared. The whole terrifying apparition shtick didn’t seem to fit in a love spell theme. And I can see now why Brad thinks he’s some Viking warrior returning with his ship. The spell was for bringing the warrior back to his love.”

  Esmeralda joined in with an observation. “Did that include returning home with a captured dragon?”

  “What?” I looked over her shoulder and saw what she was talking about. My giant psychedelic dragon hung his head in shame while his rainbow tail dragged behind the Viking boat. “Oh, poor Olaf! Wanda, Brad’s captured Olaf. He looks so sad with a chain around his neck. He must feel completely embarrassed.”

  “Oh, yes. The dragon is embarrassed. How awful.” Esmeralda snickered. “What about Brad? Wait until he finds out that you tossed him down one of Gertie O’Leary’s magical rabbit holes and turned him into a glam-Vikqueen on a bad acid trip. I mean, really. Just look at him dragging that rainbow carnival float around your plantation, parading your vanquished pet dragon, and shouting some unintelligible gibberish. Christ, Gertie. He’s lost in his own personal Mardi Gras wonderland.” Esmeralda looked back out the window and started cackling at what she saw next. “Oh hell. Now that’s something you don’t see every day. That pair of smelly Sasquatches of yours are in the parade, too. And they must be on the same drugs as Brad. Take a look.”

  Dressed in the tattered remains of Gay Mardi Gras parade outfits, Wills and Kate danced on the ship. They beat their spears against their shields and howled. To see them involved in such great fun made me smile.

  Thankfully, Marie took charge. “All right, Esmeralda. You can stop barking now, Gertie and Randy have been reprimanded and this was the result of their incompetence. They had no nefarious intent. We’ll call it…accidental necromancy.” Marie headed for the door. I threw my dress on and grabbed the bestiary as well as the so-called Book of Love. We followed Marie down stairs. “Let’s all head out by Brad to see if we can straighten that boy out before he takes his Viking raid into town and scares the hell out of the locals. Wanda, I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you more about the ring earlier. I just wanted to get all of my ducks in a row first. You’re the expert in Norse magic. What can you tell us?”

  “Oh, don’t worry about it, Marie. Besides, I was taking my sweet time with that satyr. I bet you didn’t know they can extend their tongues quite a ways out if you ask for it. Oh, yeah. That was the best sex of my life, hands down. But that’s just the beginning. You have got to see what he can do with that beaver basher of his. Whew! When he took his—”

  Marie shut her down. “Wanda, please. You can tell me the details later. What can you tell me about this Groa? She was summoned.”

  Wanda raised her hands and acknowledged Marie’s point. “Yes, yes. Sorry. Still quivering and tingling quite a bit.” Wanda turned around and looked at Randy, then at me. “When she appeared, do you two know what she said?”

  Randy rolled his eyes. “Oh sure. She said ‘bork dee jork de spork’ a few times. Of course it was difficult to get all of that, being as it was in an ancient Swedish chef language and all. It took me back to my Muppet watching days. Not to mention it was being shouted by one of those dementors from Harry Potter. The damned thing probably showed up here because it’s out of work, ever since that series ended.”

  “I’m sorry, Wanda. It’s been a long few days and Randy is just being a complete and total ass.” I used my most polite and honest voice. We really needed Wanda’s help. “It was impossible to tell what she said. I have the book with the spell in it.” We were down the stairs and just about ready to leave the house. Marie stopped our progress long enough to give Wanda some time to take a look at the book.

  It didn’t take Wanda long to read the spe
ll and come to a conclusion. “Aha. Well, what you’ve got here is a necromancy spell all right. Groa is a legendary figure, a very powerful sorceress. You woke her up and asked her for help.”

  “But I only read the first stanza. How could anything have happened?”

  “Sweetie, that first stanza is the part that woke her up to request her help. She would have known instantly what you wanted or what threat you were under. She just provides the solution. The problem with Groa is that her assistance comes at a price. A steep price.”

  “How much? I’m a little strapped for cash.”

  “It’s not money she wants. We don’t know yet and I don’t want to scare you. Let’s see if Brad can tell us anything.”

  Marie opened the back door and I couldn’t help myself. I ran out to Brad. “Brad? What’s going on?” He cocked his head to one side and another, like a dog trying to comprehend a new sound.

  When he shook his head and replied in something that was surely Norse, I knew that English was a foreign language. “Hvad ertu ad segja?”

  Marie had followed me and whispered in my ear. “He can’t understand a lick of English. But I’ve got something to fix that.” She pulled out a small leather bag from the folds of her robe. Her hand roamed the inside, swishing back and forth around in it until she found what she wanted, a small clump of rust-colored dust. “Here, take this. Crush it in the palm of your hand and blow it in his face. Go on, blow it and don’t hold back. Say the Latin phrase loquimini in anglicus. It will make him speak English.”

  “Oh? That’s quite handy. But Marie, you’ve always handled these powdered potions. I’ve never blown—”

  Marie closed my hand and the clump disintegrated into a fine powder. “The only way to learn how to give a good blow-spell is to just do it. I sure as hell ain’t getting within ten feet of that deranged fool. I don’t know what came unglued in that head of his, so there’s no telling how he’ll react at first. Besides, if you plan to marry the man, there’ll be many touchier moments than this ahead. Trust me. Now go on, blow it. And be careful, sometimes the person you blow will have a reflex and spray you.”

  Wills and Kate, still dressed as Mardi Gras revelers, had joined Esmeralda, Vasili, and Randy. The little crowd roared with laughter. Not just politely chuckling at one of Randy’s stale jokes, but doubled over from gut twisting snorts and cackles. “Wanda, look at them. I sure hope they aren’t laughing at the expense of those poor Sasquatches.”

  “Never mind that herd of jackasses. You’ve got this.”

  “Thank you, Marie.” My brisk steps quickly closed the distance between me and Brad. I’ve heard it said that the element of surprise gives you the best advantage. I thrust out my arm and put my palm up. I blew the dust in Brad’s face. “Loquimini in anglicus!”

  Chapter Fifteen

  I Svippy

  “Haf—hach—foo!” Brad sneezed and showered me with little rust colored blobs.

  I wiped off my eyes and saw Brad cleaning the residue from his nose and ears. “Brad? Can you understand me?”

  He nodded sharply, enough for the long purple feathers of his carnivalesque Viking helmet to bob around wildly. “Yes, I can understand you. My name is Svipdagr. Who is Brad?”

  “Svipda, Svippy dar? What?” My eyes bounced around as they followed the waving feathers. “Brad? What in Christ’s kitchen is going on with you?” Whatever relief I should have felt about having succeeded in getting him to understand English was overwhelmed by a wave of desperation. “Who is Svipdagr?”

  I noticed that Marie had already called Wanda over to listen in to our odd conversation. I looked at them. “Are you listening to him? I don’t get it.”

  “I am Svipdagr, but you can call me Svippy.” He said it with conviction. He was completely absorbed in Norse delusion.

  “Svippy.” Marie and Wanda barely muffled their snickering. “Svippy the spandex Viking.” Snicker, snicker, snicker. This was well and truly awful.

  As bad as it may seem, I was right there with them, on the verge of getting a few laughs myself. “Marie? Wanda?” I squeaked out a desperate plea. “Help.”

  “Oh man! Gertie! You sure know how to throw a love spell on a man.” Wanda wiped the tears of laughter away. And she giggled some more. “Okay, let me talk to him.”

  “Svippy, tell us what you are doing here. Why are you dragging that ship around? And why do you have the dragon chained up?”

  His Norse accent stuck around with his English, and it made it hard to understand him. “Some lonely witch called upon my mother, Groa. Whoever this witch was, she begged for a warrior. My mother is really getting desperate for me to get married. She’s been hounding me for years to settle down. And so now she sends me to this strange place to marry the lonely witch. And let me tell you that I’m not very happy about it either. I don’t want a wife, and it’s humiliating to be suddenly plucked from my glorious battles in Asgard, in front of my warriors. At least I have been given a strong and sturdy body, and I’ve captured a dragon that will bring a good price.”

  Olaf made a few sad moans in response. “Greww, grew.”

  “I’ve even found this ship and some armor. Two strange and horrible berserkers have agreed to join my band of warriors. You see them?” He pointed the long horn towards Wills and Kate. “Let us get this over with. Who’s the lucky lady? Whoever she is must come with me. I will take her to my mother, where we will become married. Unless someone has a better idea, I suppose my mother will finally get her wish to see me get married.”

  “Hold on there, Svippy.” Wanda stopped him. “So, because of some spell that had been cast by mistake, your mother took advantage of being summoned?”

  “Yes, it’s what she does best. Take advantage of people.” Svippy acknowledged.

  “This time she sent you here to get a wife and bring her home. But you don’t want to get married. So why don’t you just tell her no? Get out of this man’s body and go back to your never ending battles in Asgard.”

  Svippy made it very clear what the big deal was with the ring. “I can’t tell her no. She’s very powerful, controlling. She’s, she’s…”

  “Your smother?” Wanda seemed to know the type. “The smothering mother?”

  “Yes, that’s exactly right. Can you imagine how I feel? What sort of legendary hero has to leave his quest to run home at his mother’s every beck and call? This sort of thing went on for years, when she died, I thought I was free.” Svippy shook his head. “But it only got worse! It added more inconvenience by having to run to her new place in the afterlife. And as far as this marriage plot goes, it will be impossible to break apart. She has already sealed it by putting a magical ring inside the witch that will become my new bride. If the witch with the ring inside of her fails to meet my mother, that’s the end of her. That ring becomes a serpent and it will devour her from the inside. Only Groa can take it out and she will not do that until we marry.”

  I was almost unable to breathe for over a minute. “Huh? So that ring inside of me is Groa’s trick? Well, that answers the question about what Groa’s steep price was. It was this...this arranged marriage. To be shanghaied off to never-land and become the wife of her boy, Svippy. I don’t normally say bad things about other people, but your mother sounds like a real bitch, Svippy.”

  “You have no idea. And you are the one that I am to take as my wife?” Svippy looked at me as if he was looking over a horse to buy. A horse that was far below his standards. “Humph.” He lifted my arm and squeezed it in a vain search for my tiny muscles. “You couldn’t even carry my shield.” Svippy waved my limp arm around and then let it go. He didn’t even try to hide the fact that my weak little arms disgusted him.

  “Relax, Gertie. I think we can fix this,” Marie said as she put her hand on my shoulder. “The answer is simple. You go along with it, to seemingly go along with it. We need to trick her in to thinking you and Svippy are actually married. Tell her a lie about why you need that ring out. Perhaps we can convince her th
at you can’t have children until the ring is removed. Something like that. If she’s been pushing old Svippy here into marriage, you can bet that she’s anxious for some grandbabies. With the ring out, you and Svippy can both get the hell out of there. Brad will have his body back. Svippy can go back to his realm and play Viking.” Marie turned to Svippy. “Brad is still in there, in your head. Isn’t he, Svippy?”

  “Yes, he is sleeping in here someplace. I think it is very possible for your plan to work. It must work! I have no desire to wear a useless, scrawny wench as my ball and chain for eternity.”

  To listen to Brad—err, Svippy talk about me like that was like taking a punch to the gut. It was weird to see someone you love acting so bizarre and a completely different person. Unnerving actually. This was right out of Randy’s predictable science fiction movies. They all seem to have a character that ends up with his brain taken over by a space alien. Normally, I would have been angry, but I knew this wasn’t Brad. That didn’t stop me from saying something.

  I shook Svippy’s hands off and took a step back. “Well, that’s good then. Because if you think for one minute that I’m going to carry your shield around like I’m your pack mule, then you better adjust your tight little spandex skivvies. The brains in your ass must be getting squeezed.”

  Marie gave me an approving nod and she was now full of confidence. There’s one thing about Marie Laveau that I’ve learned and that is she loves a good quest. “Let’s get back to our real problem. Tell us, Svippy. Where does one go to find Groa?”

  “You go to hell.”

  “Excuse me?” Marie growled. “Listen fool, you forget who you are talking to.”

  “I said, what I said. You go to hell.” Svippy shrugged his shoulders. He repeated it slowly, with more volume and a fresh batch of sarcasm. “YOU, GO, TO, HELL.”

  I think he wanted to add “What’s the big deal” or words to that effect. But he never got another chance to open his mouth because there is one more thing I know about Marie Laveau. She won’t let any man disrespect her. Without warning, Marie swung her arm around like she was in an imaginary tennis match. A sickening smack filled the air and Svippy’s head jerked like a prizefighter’s punch had found its mark. The ridiculous purple and gold Viking helmet tumbled across the yard. It was quite a blow. But Marie hadn’t even touched him. I can only imagine that she clobbered him in the head with some kind of invisible, and quite effective, magical shillelagh. “Go ahead and say that one more time, smartass. You’ll be picking your teeth out of your ass.”