8 Gone is the Witch

by Dana E. Donovan

  “Look. Maybe Ursula and I should do this.” I tucked the shell to my body like a football. “You guys go wait up the street somewhere. We’ll find you. Just keep low and don’t raise suspicions.”

  Carlos mumbled, “No arguments here.”

  “Are you sure you’ll be all right?” asked Tony.

  “Pah-leeese.” I palmed his cheek and slapped it lightly. “Piece of cake. Ursula. You ready to do this?”

  “Aye, but for want of staying, I am ready.”

  “Okay. Come on.”

  We sashayed out of the alley in exaggerated struts designed to turn heads. The two street vendors spotted us immediately. They stomped out their smokes and assumed peacock postures, bloating their chests and sucking in their stomachs.

  Not to be outdone, Ursula and I cranked up the swank by a factor of ten. I unbuttoned my blouse to my navel, pulled my collar up and peeled back my lapels. For added effect, I shook my hair loose and let it cascade down the front of my breasts in silky black waves. Ursula, perhaps wanting to do me one better, rolled her shoulder cuffs down her arms to the bends of her elbows.

  “Ursula!” I nudged her as we walked. “What are you doing?”

  She looked at me, puzzled. “I am making sexy like you. Am I not?”

  “Why are the girls out?” I nodded at her perky peaks.

  She glanced down and gasped in embarrassment. “My stars!” She stretched her dress sleeves back over her shoulders. “I have no bra!”

  “Yeee-ah. I noticed.”

  The poor thing turned three shades of red.

  She nodded toward the merchants. Both were smiling like fools. “Doth thou thinks they noticed?”

  What could I say? “No. You got lucky this time. They didn’t notice.”

  “Thanks be goodness. What do we do now?”

  “We don’t do anything. You just leave the sexy to me. Now zip it and smile like you know something they don’t.”

  She ran her pinched fingers across her mouth and threaded a thin smile. It looked synthetic, but cute, so we went with it.

  The two merchants fell in line shoulder-to-shoulder to greet us. I could tell they thought they had a chance to score something by the way they both plastered their greasy hair back with their dirty palms and tugged at the wrinkles in their robes.

  “Ladies,” said the shortest and ugliest of the two. His face was horribly scarred. One ear tip was gone and his nose looked like someone had hacked it off, ground it up and sewed it back on. But what the little punk lacked in looks and height, he made up for in confidence.

  “Well ain’t dis ya lucky day?” he boasted.

  “Oh?” I said.

  He waved his hand over his cart, and I swear the stench he stirred in the air nearly knocked me over. “Yes, because today, and only for you two ladies, I have a spectacular fifty percent off sale on everything in my inventory.”

  I leaned over the cart and offered a glancing inspection. Most of what I saw was junk: shiny trinkets, watches, sunglasses, cheap electronics and assorted costume jewelry. All stuff that he and his friend had no doubt confiscated from the fresh drop-ins they had shaken down.

  “Crap,” I said. “What do you take us for, chumps?”

  He shrank back, faking his insult. “Whatever do you mean?”

  “I mean this is shit. It has no value. Watches and electronics don’t work here. And sunglasses? Are you serious?”

  “This is all quality merchandise.”

  “No, it’s all bullshit. And what the hell happened to your face. Did you fall into a wood chipper?”

  He looked up at his friend.

  “Him,” I said. “He did that to you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “We had a… disagreement.”

  The other one bellied up to the cart. “He tried to steal one of my customers, but you don’t need to hear nothin’ ‘bout that.” He pointed to his wagon. “Why don’t you mosey over? See what I got. I have the primo goods. Something you really need in this godforsaken hellhole. Come. See for yourself.”

  “Oh, so now you’re going to steal his customer. Is that it?”

  “Please. We’re all friends here. Check this out.”

  Ursula and I came around the sides of his cart to pick through his wares. Though unimpressive, at least his stuff held potential.

  “You’re an arms dealer,” I said, gesturing at his assortment of knives, machetes, swords and switchblades.

  He threw his shoulders back proudly. “I am. And I noticed you two aren’t carrying. You know, two unescorted beauties such as yourselves don’t generally fare so well around these parts without means of protection.”

  “We do all right,” I said.

  “You’d do better with this.” He picked up a fourteen-inch bolo knife and held it up to the glow of the streetlamp. “I’ll even throw in the sheave.”

  “No, thanks. I prefer fluted blades.”

  He smiled through crooked black teeth. “Of course you do. Smart girl. I should have known, a woman with your tastes.” He set the bolo down and picked up a pearl-handled bayonet. “How about this? She’s a real beauty. Civil War vintage.”

  “Let’s see.” I handed the shell to Ursula and took the bayonet. I then stepped back from the cart and began twirling it like a baton, switching hands in a blur of pearl and steal, tossing it in the air and catching it behind my back. When I finished showing off, I simply nodded my approval half-heartedly and handed it back. “Yeah, it’s all right.”

  “All right? It’s priceless, but you can have it for just fifty difermium pellets.”

  “Sorry, dude, just spent my last pellet.”

  “I see. Perhaps I misjudged you.” He tossed the bayonet back in his cart. “Go away then. You’re wasting my time.”

  “No. Wait. I have something to trade for it.”

  “And just what might that be?” he asked, leaning against the cart, his death-breath washing over me like a wave. I stepped back to get away from the disgusting smell, and gave Ursula a nod.

  “Tis this we bring,” she said, presenting the shell from a distance. Smart girl.

  “A snail’s shell?” the merchant laughed. “You’re joking. They’re as common as moss mites around these parts. What am I to do with that?”

  “Oh, but `tis a special shell, this one. Bewitched to make one wealthy beyond dreams.”

  “Bewitched?”

  “Aye, we be witches, she and I.”

  He regarded us with suspicion, perhaps only half believing, but half was enough. He softened his posture and lowered his guard. “Tell me more.”

  I took the shell from Ursula and held it out for his inspection. “It contains a spell like none other.” He reached for it. I pulled it back. “Uh-uh. Not so fast.”

  He stiffened up again. We were losing his trust. Plowface seemed more receptive, though. He lumbered over for a closer look. I lowered the shell down to his level.

  “You see, I put a spell inside this shell, which allows anyone to get anything they want, just for the asking.”

  “`Tis no lie,” said Ursula. “Anything.”

  “I don’t believe it,” said the taller man. “If that were true, you would have everything you want already, even all of this.” He gestured at his cart full of wares.

  “If I wanted it, yes,” I said. “But I don’t want it all. I want only that bayonet and your robes.”

  “Our robes? Why our robes?”

  “It’s a fashion statement. What do you think?”

  “You can’t have them.”

  “No. Wait. Hear her out,” said the other. “Show us how it works.”

  I looked at Ursula and shared a knowing grin. “Okay then.” I got down on one knee. “I’ll show you, but you’ll have to come in close so you don’t miss it.”

  The two closed ranks around the shell, and when they did, their combined stench nearly knocked me out. If not for Ursula rocking me back up with a nudge, I might have hit the ground unconscious.r />
  “Pay attention,” I said, after regaining my composure. “It’s a subtle thing. You don’t want to miss it.”

  I rolled the shell over, exposing the opening to the two merchants. I waited for the familiar wisp of air telling me I had released the spell, but saw no such indication. I looked up at Ursula. She could see my worry. The whisper spell wasn’t working.

  “I don’t see anything,” complained the smaller man. “What am I supposed to see?”

  “Is this a joke?” asked the other.

  Ursula leaned over and whispered. “Shake it.”

  I looked up at her again. “What?”

  She held an imaginary shell in her hands and shook it violently. “Shake thee it.”

  I rolled the shell over, shook the hell out of it, rolled it back and then shook it some more. At last, out came a belch of air so strong it parted the little fucker’s greasy hair right down the middle.

  I stood and handed the shell back to Ursula. “Well?” I said to deathbreath.

  “Well what? It didn’t work.”

  “Oh, it worked all right. Now, how `bout you give me the bayonet.”

  He looked at me queerly, shook his head, and then handed me the bayonet.

  “The bolo too.”

  He handed it to me with no hesitation. “Perhaps you have something else you’d like to trade instead?” he asked.

  “No, that’s it. Just the shell. Give me your robe.”

  He took off his robe and handed it to me. “If you haven’t got anything else then I guess we can’t do business.”

  “Yeah, I guess not.” I pointed to shorty. “You too, dipstick.” I put my hand out. “Give me your robe.”

  The pint-sized peddler removed his robe and handed it to me.

  “The belts and sheaths, too. Both of you.” I pointed at a burlap sack stashed in the corner of the cart. “What’s in there?”

  “Moccasins,” they both echoed.

  “Ooh, jackpot! All right, hand it over.” I turned to Ursula, “We need anything else?”

  “Aye, some difermium pellets may serve us well.”

  “Yeah, good thinking.” I put my hand out. “Okay. You heard the lady. Give it up. I want all your difermium pellets.” The two surrendered their money pouches, though together they had less than a dozen pellets. “Slow day, eh?” The little one shrugged. I dumped two of the pellets into my hand and gave them each one. “Thanks fellers. It’s been nice doing business with you.”

  As we started away, the little one hollered back, “Hey, didn’t you forget something?”

  I stopped Ursula, took the shell from her, and went back to give it to the little wheezier. After all, I do have some scruples.

  Chapter Five

  We caught up with Carlos and Tony a few streets away. They were leaning against the side of an adobe brick building and looking positively spent.

  “Hey, what’s up with you two,” I asked. “Why are just you sitting there?”

  “Because it’s hot,” Carlos answered. “It’s got to be a hundred degrees out here.”

  “Sure, in the sun. What do you expect?”

  Tony gave me a look as if I had just stepped off the crazy bus. “It’s night time, Lilith. In case you haven’t noticed, there is no sun.”

  “Yes there is. In fact, both suns are nearly at one o’clock high. You ought to be in the shade. It’s fifteen degrees cooler there.”

  “Shade?” Carlos took in the endless night. “I don’t see any shade.”

  “Just because you don’t see it, doesn’t mean it ain’t there. Scoot your butts around the corner. You’ll see.”

  They did, and both immediately felt the welcome relief of cool black shade on their burning skin. “You’re right,” said Tony. “That’s amazing. I feel the difference.”

  “Great. Now here.” I tossed them the robes. “Put these on.”

  Carlos took one look at his robe and pitched it. “I’m not putting that on. It’ll make me look like a sissy.”

  “Okay then, walk around in your Speedos.”

  He reconsidered, picked the robe up and slipped it over his head. It barely raked past his nose when he peeled it off again. “Geez! It smells like dog. Where did you find this thing?”

  “At the pound. Where do you think?”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t wear it.”

  “Fine, like I said, we’ll just call you Captain Speedo.”

  He soured his face and pulled the robe over his head a final time. I held the burlap sack by the bottom corners and dumped a half dozen pair of moccasins onto the ground. “I have these, too. One size fits all. I hope. Now hurry. Dr. Lowell’s trail is getting colder by the minute.”

  “So, where do we start?” asked Tony, fidgeting with his robe to figure out where the arms go.

  I handed the bolo to Carlos and waited for Tony to free his arms before giving him the bayonet. “We need to learn more about this place. Rub elbows with the locals. Ask questions. Find out what we can about Dr. Lowell.”

  “Where do you suggest we start?”

  “Where else?” I pointed across the street. “The local pub, where everyone knows your name.”

  “Wait a sec.” Carlos shredded the hood off his robe and pitched it into the gutter. “Okay.”

  “Why`d you do that?” I asked.

  “Too greasy.”

  “Oh. You good now?”

  “I`m good.”

  “`Kay. Let’s go check it out.”

  A tattered tin sign hanging out front of a two-story wooden structure creaked on rusty hooks as it swayed in a nonexistent breeze. Hell’s Tavern.

  We walked in through saloon styled doors onto sawdust-covered floorboards. The bar sat opposite, stretched along a mirrored wall. A half-dozen tables filled the room, each with a single kerosene lamp and four chairs spaced equally around them. Except for a few stragglers at one table and a couple of cowboy types sitting at the end of the bar, the place appeared deserted.

  Carlos, having walked in ahead of us, held the procession up just inside the doorway. “Looks like something out of the old west,” he muttered.

  “Anything wrong?” Tony asked.

  He shook his head. “Just a feeling. This place ain’t right.”

  “This place is electric,” I said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know. It’s weird. This room is a hotbed of energy. I can feel it.”

  “Aye,” said Ursula. “`Tis a strong force indeed.”

  Carlos suggested we not enter. “It’ll serve us no purpose.”

  “Maybe not, but it’ll serve us drinks.” I pushed past him and bellied up to the bar. “Barkeep.” I love saying that. “Barkeep, give me a beer.”

  A burly-looking tree stump of a man came over and wiped the bar down in front of us. “Name’s Tiny,” he said. “Not barkeep.”

  “Okay, Tiny. I’ll have a beer.”

  “Beer?” I could hear the amusement in his voice. “We don’t serve beer here.”

  “You don’t?” I supposed he could hear the surprise in mine. “Why not? It’s a bar, ain’t it?”

  “Sure.”

  “Well?”

  “Well,” he said sarcastically, “we don’t serve beer because there ain’t no hops or barley to make beer. No hops, barley, grain, yeast or any other of them things that go into beer. And because you’re all new here, I’ll tell you something else.”

  “What?”

  “There ain’t nothing anywhere resembling food or food stuff on this entire sphere. You want to know why?”

  “I do,” said Carlos.

  Tiny gave him a stern look, but gave it up after deciding Carlos meant it. “Because no one ever eats or drinks. That’s why. Don’t need no farms growing no food if no one’s gonna eat it.”

  “But you run a bar,” I said. “Surely you must serve something.”

  “I do.”

  “What?”

  He cracked his lips and hatched a crooked smile. “Ain’t but two thi
ngs worth serving round here. Gunji and punjab.”

  Carlos laughed. “Sounds like a couple of Bollywood movie stars.”

  “You mean Hollywood, don’t you?”

  “No. Bollywood. It’s the Indian version of Hollywood.”

  “Indian? Like Tonto?”

  “No like…. Say, how long have you been dead?”

  “Dead? I ain’t––”

  “Gunji!” I said. “What’s that?”

  Tiny stole a glimpse over his shoulder, perhaps making sure no one was playing a practical joke on him. “Man, you are new. Did you just drop in this afternoon?”

  “Yes,” Tony answered. “We did. So if you wouldn’t mind, humor us.”

  He reached below the bar and produced a bottle filled with a putrid-looking slime the color of algae. “This,” he said, “is gunji, nectar of the Gods.”

  “Looks awful,” said Carlos.

  “Disgusting,” Tony hissed.

  “Vile,” I said. “I’ll have some.”

  “As will I,” said Ursula, pinching the sides of her neck. “Parched be my throat as the desert sands.”

  “Oh, what the hell,” said Carlos. “Pour me some, too. How bad can it be?”

  Tiny filled three glasses and slid them over. He set a fourth glass down in front of Tony and laid a narrow bead on him. “Mister?”

  “Fine. Fill`er up.”

  We waited until he topped off the last glass before lifting our drinks and clanging them together over the bar. “A toast,” Tony proposed, “to finding Leona and returning her home safely.”

  “Hear, hear,” Carlos echoed. “To finding Leona.”

  Ursula said, “Find thee thy friend and return her safely.”

  I couldn’t resist. “To the Guatemalan darlin`.”

  Tony thought of correcting me, but then dismissed it with the headshake. We tossed our drinks back and belted them down, slamming the glasses on the bar in unison when finished.

  “I tell ya,” said Carlos, wiping the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand. “That wasn’t half bad. I think I can feel a buzz kicking in already.”

  “Me too,” said Tony. “A couple more of those and a body might not mind it here so much.”