by Jason Beil
Chapter 2: Let the Games Begin
Vivian swooped down on Sara, grasping her by the tail. Sara twisted and bit down on Vivian’s arm. As the witch shrieked and dropped her, Sara compulsively swallowed the blood she had drawn from Vivian’s arm. There was a POP! and Sara found herself back in her human shape. Before Vivian could grab her again, she squirmed and wiggled her way into the thick underbrush. Vivian couldn’t get to her there, at least not on the vacuum cleaner.
Then, suddenly, there was a very large flash of light, accompanied by the sound of trumpets and cymbals. Sara, Vivian, Bob, Amy, Wilberforce, Deidre, Hugo, Lupo, Harvey, and Yagar were drawn magically to the site of the flash. There in a clearing in the woods stood a figure in a flowing lavender gown and cape.
Jane.
She looked to her left and saw Deidre, Hugo, Lupo, Harvey, and Yagar. To her right stood Sara, Vivian, Bob, Amy, and Wilberforce. Yes, she thought, all the necessary pieces are in place. She put up her hands, creating a force field so neither side could move. She laughed as she did this.
At long last, her plan had come to fruition. All the years of tedious preparation were finally about to pay off. And Amy! What a coup that had been! The girl had no idea of her own importance, no idea that she was the key to the whole thing. And by the time any of them figured it out, it would be far too late.
Unable to control herself, Jane skipped around each of the “players” in turn, pausing in front of Amy and almost reaching out to touch her.
No! That was close, I almost forgot! she chastised herself as she quickly pulled her hand away.
She returned to her central position and pulled out a short wooden whistle.
Three staccato blasts of the whistle, and all heads turned toward Jane. Recognition flared on all their faces… even the turtle’s eyes widened perceptibly. Not all of them saw her as Jane, of course. They saw her in whatever form she’d taken through the years as her path crossed their lives. But whatever form they saw her in, they saw that form cloaked in the full splendor of the Witch-Queen of this world. They saw Power in the gown and cape that shifted and flowed around her driven by a wind they could neither see nor feel.
Jane smiled. “Now that I have your attention, I will tell you just what all of you will do for me.”
“Mummy!?” Amy said in surprise, suddenly seeing the woman she had seen in so many photographs—the woman she’d been told had died giving birth to her. But it was her, there was no mistake. That woman she’d met in the park—Jane—had not looked like Mummy, but now Amy realized that somehow the two women were one and the same.
Hugo made a step forward as Jane looked towards Amy. Jane twitched a hand in Hugo’s direction and the wizard froze, immobilized by that almost casual gesture.
“Jane,” he croaked. Had he been so wrong about her? How? Could he have misjudged her so badly?
Jane smiled at him. “In a moment, my dear Westie. All your questions will be answered in a moment.” She shifted her attention to the girl, the one who had called her “Mummy.”
Hugo felt a scowl twist his features. Jane was that girl’s mummy?
“I’m sorry, darling,” Jane said to the girl. “All those years… But you did have a nice adoptive family, and I saw that they took good and loving care of you.”
“But…” Tears sparkled in the girl’s eyes. “But I could have been with you!”
“It would have been too dangerous for you. Those two,” she said, her eyes sweeping Deidre and Vivian with a look of steel, “would have hunted you as they hunted me. But today,” she continued, smiling again at the girl, “all that has changed. Today, I have the Power to reclaim what is rightfully mine. And you, my dear, darling child, are the key to that Power.”
Forgetting the rules in her moment of triumph, she lowered the barrier around herself just a little. Just enough to admit one person. She reached toward Amy.
“Take my hand.”
Amy looked around at the group. They all stared at her in disbelief. Bob mouthed “No, don’t do it,” but Amy didn’t listen. She felt such love for this woman that she couldn’t help herself. She lifted her hands to her mummy. She wanted so much to be with her! Their hands clasped, and Jane drew Amy into a close embrace.
Something changed in Amy when they touched. It was just a spark, but she could tell something was different. The love and devotion she had felt only moments ago toward Jane fizzled, and she pulled away, looking at the woman suspiciously.
“Now,” Jane said, smiling, “the tournament will begin. Amy will be the judge. Sara, you will represent your father and your uncle, using vegetable as your power. Bob will fight for Deidre and Vivian with the power of animal. Harvey will represent me, with the power of mineral.”
Wilberforce the turtle slowly blinked his large eyes. “Then I can be on my way,” he suggested hopefully.
“Oh no.” Jane shook her head. “You are going to be the referee.”
“But I know nothing of that job,” Wilberforce objected.
“Would you prefer to be a bowl of soup?” Jane snapped.
Hurriedly Wilberforce answered, “I’m a fast learner!”
Liza got off her shift early, not unusual on a Friday. Since the economy hit everyone so hard these days, it seemed as though even the folks that wore the high dollar business suits wore them a day or two longer before dropping them off at the Laundromat. She parked behind the condo in her usual handicapped parking slot and hung her placard on the rear view mirror like a good girl. She had traded it from one of the many vagabonds that pushed their shopping carts in front of her store for a pint of vodka. She hopped out of the station wagon that was as old as she was and proceeded down the steps of the first condo. She dug through her key ring and found the right key to let her through the door to the laundry room. It took her awhile to find the right one since she had many laundry contracts in this part of town. After letting herself in and turning on the lights, Liza sensed that something was wrong.
At first, she thought it was her own shadow that had startled her. But then she cried out as her eyes locked on the dark, imposing figure in the corner, standing near the laundry chute, still as a statue. A black t-shirt hugged the well-muscled contours of his chest. His jeans were black, too, as were the motorcycle boots on his feet. He was handsome in a rugged sort of way, and his features were such that he seemed to be no particular age.
“You. What are you called?”
“I…” she stammered. “I’m Liza.”
He looked her up and down. “You’ll do. Come stand over here.”
“I should go,” she said. But something about his eyes… so hypnotic… she could not help but do as he said.
When she was standing under the chute, he lit a cigarette and took a puff. “I cannot get back,” he said. “The turtles… my own children… have shut their portals against me. Do you know how that feels? I trusted them. I trusted her.”
“Her?”
“Jane. My wife. I made her a goddess, and she took it away from me. Took my world. Damn her, Honalee is mine! And what does she do with her power? Plays games! Games! The Four Primes of Satya—North, South, West, East—have played right into her hands. They do not realize the game is rigged. Only she can win.”
“I… I’m sorry… I don’t understand any of this.”
The man calmed down and puffed on his cigarette. “Try to follow along. I have to get back and stop this before she tears my world apart. But the portals keep me out. Jane pulled our daughter through six months ago, and somehow Lupo and Hugo managed to get back home, but I am forbidden to pass. At least… in this form.” He eyed her sadly. “I am sorry, Liza, but I need your body.”
“What? Oh, God, what are you going to do to me?”
“Hold still. I promise, it won’t hurt a bit.”
He gripped her forehead, and reality seemed to ripple around them. She cried out in terror, but in a moment it was him crying out in her voice. He saw his body collapse in front of him, knowing that when it w
oke, a very confused Liza would be occupying it.
He looked down at himself. It was strange being a woman, but once he was on the other side he could shape-shift into a more natural form if he so desired. For was he not the Draco Magicae? Was he not the true master of Honalee?
He chanted the words and the portal opened. Wearing the body of a mortal woman, Puffidoniel, the Draco Magicae, returned home.
“So a zombie, a werewolf, and a vampire walk into a bar.”
“Very funny, Brad,” said Mitch, the zombie.
“Yeah, yer a real comedian there, buddy,” said Greg, the werewolf.
Brad grinned, showing off his fangs. He took a sip from the wine glass filled with a red liquid that was not wine. “I do my best.”
Brad looked around. Crusty Jack’s was not the pub it used to be. Once, it was the finest drinking establishment in Satya. Now it was run down and dirty, and the half-troll manning the bar smelled like… well, a half-troll. But it was close to home, and it was the only place he could get AB negative for less than six crowns a glass.
“You think she’s really going to do it?” asked Mitch. Part of his face fell on to the table as he spoke.
Greg took out a black globe with an “eight” on it, shook it, and consulted it. “All signs point to yes,” he said.
“Put that thing away,” said Brad. “Look, She’s the Witch-Queen of Honalee; she can do anything she likes. This game of hers… well, maybe it’ll end the constant wars and maybe it
