by Jim Conder
Susan looked around. The medallion had sunk out of sight. She started over to try and find it, when her legs were pulled out from under her. Malventia began to pull the witch towards her. Susan jerked her leg and left the demoness holding an empty spike heeled shoe. Susan kicked off the other and stood. Malventia also rose and the two of them slowly circled each other.
Malventia charged first, but Susan caught her and flipped her over to the side. Pudding splattered as the demoness landed hard. A moment later Malventia grinned triumphantly as she raised a hand clutching the medallion.
Her triumph didn’t last long, as Susan climbed the ropes and came down on her Malventia with a flying elbow. The medallion flew into the air, landing back in the ring and vanishing beneath the brown goo. Susan landed two good blows to Malventia’s face before she went to look for it.
Malventia tackled her from behind and both of them went down.
They struggled, rolling around the squared circle. Malventia executed a pile driver on Susan, then grabbed her. Susan broke free. A green flash transformed one of the ceiling tiles into a dirty sock. Susan Grabbed and put it over her hand like a puppet. As Malventia ran towards her Susan put her besocked hand into the demoness’s mouth. Susan’s middle and ring finger pushed down on nerves beneath Malventia’s tongue, while Susan’s thumb pushed up into the soft underside of Malventia’s jaw.
“Have a nice day,” Susan said.
Malventia struggled, finally breaking free. The two of them grappled and Susan went face down. Malventia grabbed and locked her legs around her neck like scissors.
Back in the passageway, Maggie looked at Vlad.
“We need to go help,” she said.
“In a minute, in a minute,”Vlad said waving her off. His eyes captivated by the scene below. Magge gave him a brief, disgusted look and ran down the passage way. She came out into the corridor and entered the drawing room.As she carefully stepped over the reamins of Damien taft, she felt a lump in her throat. she blinked away the tears, time for sorrows later. She went up beside the two henchmen, hooting and laughing at the action. Glod’s battleaxe lay on the floor beside him. Carefully Maggie reached down to pick it up.
In the ring Susan had found the medallion, but a punch in the stomach had sent it flying once more. She brought her leg around in a sweep which tripped up Malvenita, but the demoness caught her foot and both women came down. The medallion resurfaced, and a splash from Susan being choke slammed sent it flying into the air. Malventia grabbed for it, but by now it had gotten so slippery it shot out of her hands like wet soap.
In the next few moments time seemed to slow. The medallion sailed up from the demonesses hands and into a long arcing flight. It completeds the pinacle of it’s arc and as it began to fall, it met with the very sharp edge of a large battle axe. Glod’s axe had been designed to breach castle walls and the medallion couldn’t hold up.
The world became absolutely silent as the medallion exploded into a white and green flash of light. The room lit up as all the worlds magic came free. Maggie dropped the axe, which didn’t fall as she felt magic once agin flowing into her body. She drank it up like an alcholic at an open bar.
Outside the castle, dark clouds began to dissipate. Kudzu vines whithered and died. Flying monkey’s lost their wings and once again became free spirited munchkins. Very realistic statues began to move as stone turned to flesh. The bubbling green pit began to close, leaving only a meadow and some confused shepherds in it’s wake.
Deep beneath the sea a group of sad fish felt fingers grow within their fins as they perfomed some high speed evolution to once again become the dreaded mermen.
In Oykot a despondant man in a rubber suit felt himself begin to grow. Rubber became flesh and within moments. the crowds began to cheer wildly as the gorilla whale stomped their city flat before returning to the sea.
Susan collapsed to the floor. A real floor now, wood covered with rich carpeting. The room had returned to normal , the dragon’s head had even returned to it’s final resting place upon the wall. Out the window she could see the kudzu vines whither and die. Behind her she could hear Malventia’s labored breathing. From the corner of her eye, Susan saw that the demoness had collapsed nearby.
“Mistress Crone,” Susan heard Maggie say,”Why isn’t he back?”
Susan looked over and saw her pupil staring down in wide-eyed horror. There on the floor lay the remains of Damien Taft. The black holes where his eyes should have been stared at her and the skull grinned at some unknown joke. Susan rose unsteadily to her feet and walked over beside Maggie. She quietly put her arm around the girl’s shoulders as Maggie began to cry.
“Oh, now, isn’t that just too bad,”said Malventia, rising up. “You’ve saved the world but little Damien. . “
“Malleforcanium Rodentia,”Susan cried whirling around, dimly aware that at the exact same moment another voice cried out:
“Demoniaruis Banishemnetus,”
Twin streaks of light shot through the air at Malventia. Susan’s struck the demoness, the other hit the ground spreadin out into a flaming pentagram. It flashed out then vanished, taking Malventia with it. Susan turned to see Vlad Draco standing there. whisps of smoke still curling from his fingertip.
“Banished her back to hell,”he explained,”Should have done it much sooner.”
“Why isn’t he back?”Maggie asked,”Everything else is back to normal, where’s he at?”
“Nothing else died, Maggie,”Susan said quietly.
All dogs go to heavan. This is actually true for all animals except two. The first are humans who are given a choice of afterlife accomadations. That humans spend their entire lives trying hard to get to hell says something about the race as a whole.
Cats have no choice, they all go to hell. This is not it should be emphasised, a punishment. In fact cats, like humans would choose hell if the choice had been presented, though not for the same reasons of course. Cats like Hell.
Who do you think runs the place?
Not demons who are far more interested in petty power struggles and tempting humans. No when it comes to torturing the damned, there is no creature more suitable than the not so humble housecat. Millions of people every year discover that they have been lied to by their album covers. It’s best not to even think about what happens to those who’ve been cruel to animals.
These were not, of course, the first thoughts on Malventia’s mind as she found herself on the floor of hell. She cursed the names of booth Vlad Draco and Susan Crone. They would pay, oh most certainly they would pay.
She suddenly felt an inexplicable urge to wiggle her nose. She also had a strange craving for cheese. She felt strange, smaller than she should be. She could have sworn she’d shaved her legs this morning but they felt almost furry. She glanced up into the largest pair of yellow eyes she’d ever seen. Eyes with strangely slit pupils, embedded in a fuzzy face.
“Meow,”said the owner of the eyes.
“Squeak!”cried Malventia, as she quickly turned to scurry off, as fast as her four tiny legs could carry her.
“He died by magic,” Maggie said,”that means thers a chance.”
“You can’t bring back the dead,”Vlad said softly,”raise them yes, but not in any form you’d want to see them. in. Trust me on this one.
“But he died by magic!”Maggie insisted.”Death by magic can be undone. You taught me that. it was our third lesson.”
Susan sighed. The girl had a better memory than Susan had expected. Maggie was right, in theory. Crossbows, axe to the skull, that sort of thing, those were a permanent death, nothing left to do but bury them and read the will. But a magical death, well that was just a spell.
“For every spell there is an opposite and equal counterspell,”Susan said, quietly.”Unfortuneately I have no idea what it is”
She looked at Vlad, who shrugged.
“I’ve never had a reason to know it,” he said. Susan knelt down to pick up the body. It felt much lighter than she
had expected, and the bones had become brittle. His head fell off.
“Maggie could you get that please,”Susan said as she carried the corpse from the room. Maggie dutifully picked up the skull and the hat and followed her teacher.
Vlad watched them in silence. He waited until they had disappeared from view, before he turned to Grog and Glod.
“Come along gentlemen, we must prepare for tommorow night,” He said, walking out of the room.
“Why boss?”asked Grog as the two of them followed him. “Yeah, what are we going to do tommorow night?” asked Glod. “The same thing we do every night boys, try to take over the world!”
Chapter 12
The End of the Journey
Finding the way from Lander to home was easy enough, even for a witch that never got lost. The main road led straight to Rahtsbuht, Susan’s home town, and from there it had only been a short journey to Ghast, to make sure Maggie made it home safely.
As they flew towards Ghast, Susan stole a look at the broom flying beside hers. Widowmaker had turned up whole, unlike it’s master. Susan and Maggie had wrapped Damien’s remains in a blanket and strapped them to his old broom. It flew along in silence beside her. Maggie flew on the other side if the broom, just as silent.
They reached Maggie’s cottage as the sun sank out of sight. Maggie looked around at the darkness, no mysterious clouds hovered over head, the stars shone brightly down. There were no strange howls, only the pleasant chirping of crickets. The utter lack of anything foreboding frightened her. She waved her silent goodbye to Mistress Crone, then walked into her cottage.
Maggie set down the souvenirs of her vacation as she walked in the door. Mistress Crone had told her not to expect any miracles. Even Malventia probably hadn’t known the exact spell, and without that, finding the counterspell would be an impossible task.
Maggie went back to her own room and changed into her nightdress. Her bed felt strange after so much time away. She slid beneath the sheets, thinking she’d never be able to sleep. Staring at the ceiling, she wondered if perhaps a few more of those munchkin brownies might help. Before she could decide she drifted off to sleep.
She stood just outside an old tavern, one the sign called Azrael’s Place. She walked in to see an empty bar room, except for two figures in the corner, playig cards. Five card draw from the looks of it. She walked over to them. The first figure towered over the table. It wore a hooded robe, obscurring the face, althouh for a moment Maggie thought she saw a glimpse of bone white. Skeletal hands held five cards in front if it. A sickle rested against the wall.
The second figure, Maggie quickly realized as Damien Taft. He turned, took her hand in his and gave her a smile.
“You need to get home Kiddo,”he said,”This is a dangerous place.”
Maggie didn’t move, but everything else did, Mr. Taft, the hooded figure, the table, then the saloon all seemed to pull away from her as darkness rushed up on her.
Maggie awoke, the sun shone in through her window. The dream played in her head over and over again. Something kept botherting her. Mr. Taft’s sleeves, why did she keep thinking about his sleeves. Then it hit her and she laughed out loud. she remembered what she’d seen. What she’d seen that the hooded figure hadn’t.
The brief flash of an extra card up Mr. Taft’s sleeve.
Susan carefully unwrapped the makeshft curtain shroud she had wrapped Damien in. Ironic, she thought, he’d tried so hard to get into her bed, now here he was. She stared at the grinning skull and could picture where the flesh had hung. She sat in the chair near her bed, all energy drained from her.
Susan did not hold a great deal of faith in books . She felt that anyone who had time to write things down, hadn’t spent enough time in actual practice. But now she really didn’t have much of a choice. Raising the dead was fairly simple, but bringing them back to life that was another story. She rose and walked to a trunk at hte foot of the bed. Opening it, she pulled out the first book aand began to read it.
Four hours later she’d exhausted every magical tome in her collection. The general consensus seemed to be: Talking with the dead, fairly easy. Getting them to answer, a bit harder. Raising them as a zombie, very difficult. Restoring them to life, frigging impossible. She tossed the book aside. It seemed to echo loudly as it hit he floor.
Susan had never envisioned life with Damien. She had never spent time imagining their wedding day, she’d never mentally envisioned herself in the gown. she’d never given thought to a little cotage with a white pickett fence, or their children playing. among the trees. She’d never expected this to lead anywhere special. Susan knew that as a witch happy endings were for other people. She had known for a long time that she would someday end up an old spinster in a lonely dark cottage, cackling madly at the cauldron. she accepted it, in fact she’d even welcomed it, spending many happy hours fantasizing about it.
So why didn’t it seem so appealing now?
She remebered a fairy tale she’d been told as a child. for the most part she’d hated those kind of stories, in which perfectly innocent witches were shoved into ovens, and poor stepmothers, women who’d taken another man’s children to raise as their own, were often killed horribly by these same ungrateful brats. She remembered the one she’d hated most of all, the one that seemed so silly.
It wouldn’t work of course. Damien was obviously no princess, and Susan lacked several features of a prince, starting with the royal blood, and going on from there. Still, she couldn’t think of another option.
She bent over him slowly, when something caught her eye. Something white lay more than half hidden in Damien’s left sleeve. She reached over to pull out a playing card. Traditionally it should have been an ace, but instead she noticed that it was the queen of hearts. She looked at it carefully, and wondered why the skinny queen with the oversized ose looked so familiar. She placed it in his hand and then bent down to kiss him.
In any system, no matter how arbitrary, that ranked kisses in terms of purity and passion, this one easily took a spot in the top ten. An impressive showing, considering that half the couple didn’t have any lips, nor did he technically actively participate. Susan rose up up and looked at the still lifeless corpse lying on her bed. She wiped away an errant tear and shook her head sadly.
Nothing. Oh well, she couldn’t honestly say she’d been surprised. Fairy tales weren’t real after all. She sighed and looked at his corpse, still lying on the bed, dressed in black. The two cards still in his bony hand.
Slowly she walked out of the room, shutting the door behind her. Damien, as is the tendency of the dearly departed, lay perfectly still on her bed, silently gripping the three cards in his hand. Susan went to the kitchen and put a kettle on to boil herself a cup of tea. She fetched the bags from the cupboard, chamomille seemed right at a time like this.
She spooned tea into the strainer, then into the tea pot. She poured in the boiling water to let it steep. After a few minutes she poured her self a cup, added cream and five tablespoons of sugar. She sat at the table and took a sip.
Then dropped the cup, and ran back to her bedroom. She flung open the door and saw five cards resting in Damiens hand, which had unaccountably sprouted musculautre. She watched as his clothing began to fill out, eyes sprouted in their sockets, muscles formed, and slowly skin began to form over it all.. he blinked twice, groaned softly then sat up unsteadily.
“Ohhhh, you would not believe how unpleasant that was,”he said rubbing his head.”excpet for the part where you kissed me. I felt that clear to the othe. . ooof!”
Susan had flung her self to the bed and wrapped her arms around him. This kiss, helped along by the fact that both people participated, raced all the way to the top of the charts and set an incredibly high standard for anyone to try and beat. Susan’s hand reached the front of Damien trousers.
A moment later she pulled a bannana from his pocket.
“And I though you were happy to see me!” she said.
“I
am, but I’ve been dead for a while give me a minute.” He smiled at her “You did it, you brought me back.”
“I had to, I need to get my boots back,”she said “I hope you’re up to painting.”
“Why Mistress crone , you wanton hussy!”
“Yeah and you know what I’m wantin’ to,”she said leaning in close,”It appears Mr. taft that I have fallen madly in love with you.”
“Well, I can’t say that I blame you, “ Damien said. He reached up and pulled her closer.
She leaned down and kissed him again. Despite overwhelming odds, this kiss managed to best the last one. It even helped raise the last little bit of the dead.
Outside Susan’s cottage, a group of men in grass skirts paused. They had come a long way for this They were tired they were hungry. They had fought through strange vines, they had eaten themselves sick at strange festivals. Now they were here, they had found her. Silently they crept up on the cottage. The chief raised his hand for them to pause.
From inside they could hear voices.
“Very impressive.”
“I’ve always been a quick healer,”
Then there came the other sounds. Rythmic sounds, heavy breathing, moaning, in other words the same sounds that came from every hut on Kua-Kua when the volcano god started rumbling. The entire building started rocking and in accordance with an ancient Kua-Kua proverb they felt it best not to go knocking.
“Dammit!”cried the chief, throwing down his spear, “Ain’t that just a kick in the head.”
He sighed in disapointment, “C’mon boys, let’s go home.”
Now the way this story ends, Susan got her boots back and Damien got a rather good picture to cover the spot above his fireplace. They courted for a while and eventually married.
