by Cathy Gaitan
I guess Oz is thinking the same thing because he orders, “Don’t even think about sitting in here. You,” he points at me and then wrinkles his nose and backs up when he realizes he’s close enough to touch. “need to bathe first.” He directs me to a bathroom down the hall. I doubt it’s the one he uses.
“I don’t have any other clothes with me,” I tell him.
He just rolls his eyes. “What’s the point of having magic if you don’t use it?” Oh, yeah. I sometimes I forget I have it. “Just whip something up for yourself. No more ugly pajamas please.”
I look down in dismay. “These aren’t ugly. They’re just torn because I fell.”
He shakes his head. “Nope. They were ugly before you tore them. Make sure you burn them when you’re done.”
I thought the Witches were bad but this Warlock out-diva’s them by a landslide. Obnoxious doesn’t even begin to describe him. His personality really detracts from his pretty appearance.
“There’s soap, shampoo,” he waves his hand and a basket appears filled with an array of scented lotions, bath washes and other items. “Make sure you use it. I don’t expect to see you for at least an hour.”
I frown. “An hour? Does anyone actually take that long to bathe?”
He nods. “You need to. Seriously,” he says pointing at the door, “I’m locking you in until I think you’ve had enough.” He looks at my hair. “An hour may not be enough.”
He whips up a toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste the whitening kind. “Yeah, you’re going to need a lot more time.”
“One day, when I’m a true Ninja, you’re gonna wish you treated me better,” I warn him. I vow it to myself. He will rue the day he tangled with me!
He winks at me. “Save your fantasies for Pink. I deal in magic. There’s more truth in it.”
I snort out a laugh. “You wouldn’t know truth if it bit you in the ass.” I put my hand beside my mouth like I’m sharing a secret. In a loud whisper I say, “The truth is Bibidee Bea is never going to give you the time of day unless you grow a beard, 6 inches, and gain like 40 pounds.”
He glares at me. “Three hours,” he declares before slamming the door behind him and locking me in. I hear the bolt, that wasn’t there a minute ago, sliding into place. I look around me. The window is now gone. Damn that wily Warlock! What the hell am I supposed to do in here for 3 hours?
I start the water for the bath. I leave it on low since I’m in absolutely no hurry. There’s no T.V. in here, no radio, not even a magazine to flip through. I try to summon up a television and end up with a …scrub brush. What the hell?
I hear evil laughter from the other side of the bathroom door and flip him the bird even though he can’t see it. It makes me feel slightly better. I reach into the air try to grab a box of Nerds but come up with an apple instead. At that point I kind of lose it a little. He’s laughing and I’m cursing his name and throwing bath bombs at the door. They crumble on impact which actually provides me with a tiny bit of petty satisfaction.
The tub is filled so I turn off the faucet and drop in a bath bomb. I strip down and climb in. The water is hotter than I intended but it feels good. I lather up my hair then soap down. I’m taking my time because why not? I’ve got three hours after all. I lean back and munch on my apple while I contemplate my new circumstances. I went from evil Carmony to evil Oz. At least my thinking is clear now not bogged down and hazy. Score one for evil Oz.
I haven’t seen Pink in 10 days. I don’t know when that bet ends but the itching in my bones tells me I need to get a move on. I thought I was slick ducking him the first 7 days but now that I think about it the Zombies were blocking for me all the way. It wasn’t my fancy maneuvers but theirs that made it possible. Remembering their deception, I get angry all over again. Whatever it takes, they are going down!
I close my eyes and try to concentrate hard on conjuring a dancing dress. Why a dancing dress? I don’t know. Probably because of Bibidee Bea’s analogies. Pink doesn’t even dance but it’s in my head now and there’s no shaking it. It has to be a dancing dress!
I open my eyes and there is a pink monstrosity of a ball gown on the counter. Hell to the no! I send it away to who cares where and try again. The next one is a pink sequined mess. So long sequins. Next! This one is a lot better. It’s pink again and has a full skirt and lots of ruffles. Too many ruffles. Adios ruffles! On to the next one. Ooh, this one’s nice! It’s got a scooped neckline and is made of some kind of soft material. It’s pink and has darker pink crystals sprinkled around the torso and hem.
“That may be a keeper,” I mutter to myself. “But what is up with all the pink?”
“It’s his favorite color,” Oz shouts through the door. “You need all the bait you can get!”
“Stay out of my magic, Oz! I don’t need your help,” I holler. That Warlock needs to just back the hell off!
Oz snorts. “Oh, please! The first two disasters were all you.” He’s lying. Right? I think about it. The ball gown and the sequins. Okay, he may be right. They looked a little like what I was shooting for but in a terrible, wrong way.
“Yep, terrible wrong just about sums it up,” he agrees.
“Stay out of my head you evil Warlock,” I warn him. It’s weak, I know, but all this hot water is making me feel super mellow.
“Believe me, I don’t spend any more time than I need to in there. It’s as messy as your hair,” Oz retorts. “And your clothes, and your teeth, and…,”
“Okay, I get it,” I cut him off. Then I remember. I grin when I hear a thump against the door and Oz’s shout of pain. My power to zap. I forgot I had that.
I hum to myself as I rinse my hair. The bath is getting cold now. I drain the water out and refill the tub as hot as I can stand it. I add shampoo to my hair again and once more soap up.
I can still hear Oz twitching in the hallway. He’ll probably add more bath time to my sentence. That’s okay. I’m starting to like it.
It feels good to know I defeated evil today. Behold the amazing power of a Ninja! I turn off the water and lean back against the tub as I grab a box of red hots from the air.
A radio appears on the counter and Beyonce lets the world know who runs it. You know, I could get used to this. The house of Oz is not so bad after all.
Pinkerton Floyd
I haven’t seen Mercy in 11 days and I’m pretty sure everyone in town is running interference for her. I stopped by her place. No answer. Not a creak or rustle so I jimmy the lock. Whatever! Call the police. She wasn’t there and I didn’t take anything so no harm no foul.
Her Wonder Woman tote was missing which means she hightailed it. She’s probably hiding out somewhere. My guess is Carmony’s. I make my way in that direction.
Mercy is a pain in the ass. I swear, most days I don’t even like her. How is it possible to miss someone that irritates you so much? Don’t answer that. I don’t really want to know.
“Hi Pinkerton,” Molly exclaims when we meet up on the sidewalk. I’ve had a lot of these accidental meet-ups the last few days. “Kailani’s been looking for you.” She winks and nudges me like I should be excited by this news.
“Why?” Seriously, I wish she would just spit it out. I don’t have time for this.
“Um, because she wants to spend time with you,” she answers only it sounds more like a question. What is up with these people lately?
“Just tell her I’m not interested,” I grumble marching by her. No more chit-chat. I’m in the middle of a hunt. Who knew chickens could be so hard to track?
“But she’s interested in you,” she calls.
I stop walking and turn to glare at her. Of course she immediately tears up. She hates confrontation. Well, too bad! She started it with all that drivel about Kailani. “If you’ve seen Mercy, that I’m interested in knowing. Any other information you can keep. I’m not interested!” I turn around and keep walking.
Was that rude? So what! I think it’s rude that everyone ignores the fact that
I need to find Mercy. I don’t get it! Why won’t anyone help me?
Mary Mary is taking care of Lumina but when I asked her where Mercy was she just shook her head and said she didn’t know. Mercy just asked her to take care of the cat for a few days. Then Caine kicked me out when I got a little loud. Only, in retrospect, I don’t think that’s why he kicked me out. He was afraid Mary Mary would spill her guts. They are all nerd blocking and I want to know why.
I turn onto Carmony’s street. For some reason she has old coals in the grass, and glass all over her sidewalk. That’s weird. She always seemed to have her stuff together. There are tacks scattered on her steps and a cinder block in front of her door. Not like her at all.
After about five knocks she answers the door. Her hair is a mess and her clothes are rumpled. There are chocolate crumbs around her mouth and her eyes look a little glazed.
When she sees me she smiles through chocolate coated teeth. “Hi, Pink!” She’s speaking really loudly. I peer inside, certain Mercy must be here. Carmony has her mark all over her.
“Hey, Carmony. Is Mercy here?” I’m tempted to just shove her out of the way so I can get on with my search but I just manage to hold myself back.
“Nope,” she says with an excessive shake of her head just as House Hunter International returns from commercial break. Liar! I shove the door wider and invite myself in.
Mercy’s stupid 5k running shoes are lying next to the couch. “Those are her shoes,” I point at them and glare at her accusingly.
“Yeah,” she nods. “but she’s not here now. She got away.”
I ignore her and continue my search. In the guest bedroom I find Mercy’s Wonder Woman tote filled with her things and my stolen t-shirts. Carmony’s right behind me, her eyes wide and guilty looking.
“These are her things. Is she coming back,” I’m sure she will be. She loves that Grateful Dead t-shirt she swiped from me.
Carmony shakes her head. “I doubt it,” she mumbles skeptically.
“When was the last time you saw her,” I ask. Not that I’ll believe a word that comes out of her lying mouth.
“Yesterday. She snuck out during Gossip Girl,” she informs me with a crinkled frown. “I should have known that show wouldn’t be enough to hold her. Dammit! I should have gone with 24. Every episode bleeds right into the next. “
I don’t think I’m going to get anything useful out of her. I’m pretty sure she’s high right now. I look at her pupils. Yep. I take her by the arm and lead her to the couch then give her a slight nudge and she falls into it. “Why don’t you just sit back and watch your show.”
Carmony looks at the T.V. and smiles. “Ooh, Greece! This should be a good one.” She grabs the throw blanket from the back of the couch and settles back against the cushions.
She’s a mess right now. Mercy has definitely been here. I’m getting closer!
“See ya, Carmony. Enjoy your show.” I’m out of here. I’ve got a nerd to find.
No sooner do I leave Carmony’s house than I bump into the Witches making their way up her steps.
DaniElle is clutching her left foot and hopping around on her right. “Yep, that stings. What kind of crazy laces their steps with tacks,” she grumbles.
“What kind of Witch wears ballet slippers? Where is the wicked in that?” Boom Hildie’s looking at her in consternation.
“You’re wearing combat boots,” Australian Witch points out as she plucks the tack out of the bottom of her shoe.
Hildie and Bibidee Bea share an exasperated look. “Combat boots are badass,” Bea calmly explains. “Ballet slippers are, well, sweet. Sweet Witch? See where the problem lies?”
I interrupt because they’re in my way and I don’t have time to listen to them bicker.
“What up, Witches? Have any of you seen Mercy today,” I ask.
“Well, if it isn’t Pinkerton Floyd,” says Bibidee Bea. “the lamest Zombie in town,” she continues.
I roll my eyes. “And how exactly did I earn that honor?”
“How do you think? All you had to do was wrangle the nerd and you can’t even find her. What kind of Zombie are you?” What does it matter to her?
“That’s none of your business,” I tell her. I’m really tired of this town meddling in my affairs. “Whatever Mercy and I have going on is between the two of us.”
All three Witches are glaring at me. What the hell? Bea gets right up in my grill. She stabs a finger towards me. “Your business is our business. There is some serious cash on the line! Do you understand?”
“No,” I honestly don’t. “What cash? And why?”
Bea looks at Boom Hildie. Hildie twirls her finger in a circle. “Roll it back.”
Bibidee Bea lowers her finger and relaxes. She smiles at me and says, “Sorry, I forgot. You’re the last to know.”
Not surprising but, “Last to know about what?”
“See, after your little smooch fest with Mercy before the great and terrible battle, some of us got to talking,” she informs me.
“And drinking,” adds DaniElle.
Hildie snicks, “A lot of drinking!”
Bea nods and pats he hair self-consciously. “There may have been some excessive drinking involved.”
“Okay, so everyone was sloshed,” I clarify. Call a spade a spade.
“Bullseye,” calls Boom Hildie pointing at her nose. “Spot on.”
The Aussie high-fives me. “Way to cut through the bull.”
I roll my eyes and Bibidee Bea continues, “Right. So, one thing led to another. We started making silly bets like ‘I bet Titus can down a bottle faster than Hildie’. “
Boom Hildie leans toward me. “For the record, I torched him. He’s a lightweight. I was on my second before he was halfway through the first.”
“Can we just fast forward to the bet that involves me?” These Witches can go on forever and I still need to find Mercy.
“Wow,” exclaims DaniElle in dismay.
“Me, me, me. I tell you. These Zombies today,” mutters Hildie with a shake of her head.
“In a nutshell, the Zombies bet that your nerd is going to chicken out and bail on you. We,” she indicates herself and the other two Witches. “had more faith in you. We bet that she’ll go all in. “She grips me by my t-shirt and tugs me closer. “You need to find that chicken and you need to find her now! Our reputations are on the line!”
“And some longshot dollars,” adds Hildie. “We are not talking chump change.”
“Big money,” nods Australian Witch.
A part of me angry as hell. These people are supposed to be our friends, family even, and they bet on us like racehorses. Hell, they bet against us! They call Mercy a chicken. I mean, she is, but still.
Then there’s another part of me that’s wondering how to play the angles on this. The Witches chose a longshot with amazing odds. The bet is on me so I can’t necessarily get in on it, but still, I gotta wonder, “What’s in it for me?”
They all grin. “I’m sure there’s something we can do for you,” Bea sighs thoughtfully. She’s not fooling anyone. She’s already worked it out in her wicked Witch head.
“How many on your team,” I ask, getting straight to the numbers.
“Four. Oz was there. He whined until we let him in,” explains Hildie.
I chuckle, “Looks like I’m silent partner number 5,” I tell her.
“Silent partner number 6,” DaniElle corrects, pulling out an invisible pen and a black notebook. When I look at her questioningly she confesses, “Mercy is number 5.”
My eyes widen and I feel my heart thump loudly in my chest. “Mercy got in on this?” I don’t think I could be any prouder.
Bea shrugs. “Yes. Four days ago and then she dropped out of sight.”
“I’ll find her,” I say confidently. Love and money. The best combination ever!
Hildie snorts, “Forgive us if we have our doubts. Eleven days and counting is not exactly a stellar record.”
I
ignore her. “When is the deadline. Let’s just get straight to the important details.” This is the kind of stuff I thrive on. Mercy was probably bubbling with outrage. Ranting about betrayal. That’s just how she is. I trust no one. She trusts everyone. There is just no teaching that out of her. I’ve given up trying.
“You have exactly,” Hildie looks at her watch then taps it in frustration. “Damn. Swiss watches are just not what they used to be.”
Bea sighs and looks at her own timepiece. “Twenty-two hours and counting.”
“May the force be with you,” declares DaniElle. She winks at me, “You know, in honor of the nerd.”
I set the alarm on my own watch and head off. Don’t ask me why but for some reason the deadline comforts me. It adds pressure to the situation and for some crazy reason I like that.
I’m beginning to think that’s the reason I’m attracted to her in the first place. Her crazy calls to my crazy. You could call it mad Zombie love.
Chapter Thirteen
Everyone’s heard of a cackling Witch
But have you ever seen one weep?
It’s coming. 18 hours and counting!
-from Titus’s Twisted Twitter feed
Just sit there and look sexy.
Leave the counting to the smart folk.
16 hours and counting. Victory will be ours!
-Bibidee Bea’s response to Titus’s Twisted Twitter feed
Mercy Mayhem
The Wizard is Odd
After a 7 hour bath I feel incredibly refreshed. Okay, and a little aggravated. Maybe, more than a little aggravated. That Warlock will cry like a baby when I’m done with him!!!
I bathed. I washed my hair. I repeated this process numerous times. I have the wrinkly fingers and toes to prove it. I combed my hair. I curled my hair. I straightened my hair. Then I braided it. Up-do, side sweep, faux-hawk, in the face, off the face. You name it. I tried it.
No makeup, natural makeup, exotic eye, smoky eye, bold lip, nude lip, bronzer, glitter. You name it. I tried it. I shaved my legs. I painted my nails. I painted my toenails. I repeated this process numerous times.
