Wands Have More Fun

by Rebecca Regnier

  Maybe there’d be time for that later, on my day off. Haha.

  Maxine read the list of wands that we’d created, we claimed the ones we’d made, and the blank spaces were filled in.

  “There, six new wands matched to witches. That’s a great day’s work,” Aunt Dorothy said.

  “No, seven. Who’s got the Crimson King Maple?” Maxine asked, and we all looked at one another. None of us did.

  “Only six for now. We obviously had a lot to learn before we taught the whole DLC,” Candy said.

  “Yeah, Candy’s attempt put Budd Marvin on his butt.”

  “Shh,” Candy told Pauline who was finally relaxing after the trials of her own day.

  “There’s seven though. Right here, a Crimson King Maple wand, made in the last few weeks from the looks of it. Looks like it can transmute,” Maxine said.

  My confusion was evident because Georgianne whispered to me, “That means change matter from one thing to another thing.”

  “Oh, remember Marie Grubola? She used to use a Crimson King Maple wand.” Frances was now leaving the present and taking a little walk down memory lane, back to the time of her exploding cake. There wasn’t time for all that now, though.

  “Put a pin in it, we’ve got the Moose Lodge Vampires to talk about,” I said.

  Chapter 15

  We had learned a lot about how to use our wands in short order, but we needed to learn why the Moose members were voluntarily turning into vampires.

  “We’ve got a token.” I held up the badge Thew had stolen.

  “And I brought a few herbs that Georgianne said were listed in the casting grimoire.” Fawn shook the little bag she’d filled.

  “Wonderful! We’re a powerful nine!” Aunt Dorothy and her contingent usually weren’t with us at the cauldron. Normally we were only six strong.

  “What’s nine do?” I asked her.

  “Just speeds up the process!” Aunt Dorothy said.

  “Okay, cauldron’s at the right temperature. Let’s go,” Tatum declared, and Fawn opened her bag of bits.

  All nine of us closed in together, in a tight circle. And it was immediately evident that this was going to be faster, more intense, and hopefully clearer than any cauldron spell we’d tried.

  Fawn put in a few of the items, and then Tatum nodded to me, indicating I should add the badge we’d pinched from the Phillip Lockwood.

  Something is poisoning the moose,

  A group that was mild has turned loose!

  The dark and undead have lured them in,

  So that no normal means can cure their sin.

  What have they been promised?

  Who is trying to lead?

  From the light of their past to the blood, they now must feed!

  The scene formed in the steam over the cauldron, as it had before. This time though it was the difference between your grandparent’s old rabbit ears television and a 4K flat screen. With the additional three very powerful witches, we saw exactly what we’d asked for.

  And it was high def with surround sound!

  The first scene was Alvarado with Ridge. I recognized his underground office. I had been there and didn’t want to make a return trip.

  “There is only one way for you to gain power over this town, and that is to seize power from the witches. They have made you weak, impotent, ineffective.”

  Alvarado was telling Ridge a whole line of bull, and Ridge was eating it up like Doritos at 2 a.m.

  Alvarado had stayed away from town, he had stopped attacking me in the last month, and he’d slowed down his mining operation. I knew we hadn’t vanquished him, but I thought perhaps he’d been effectively neutralized. I could see now he had a new tactic: get Ridge to do his bidding.

  “They’re in charge of the festival committee, the mayor’s office, that watering hole. I am sick to death of their bossing me—and the rest of the men around town. If you don’t have fangs or fur, you don’t even get the time of day them either.” We’d heard Ridge whine like this in real life, so it wasn’t a surprise that he was doing it to Alvarado since Alvarado was feeding him what he wanted to hear.

  “Do I have to kill them or something?” Hearing that from Ridge was frightening. We knew he was a jerk, but that crossed the line. I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I was.

  “I can give you all the power you need, have I not proven it?”

  “Oh, I do love being in the legislature.”

  “We need foot soldiers, and I cannot currently bring them here. So, you must find them for me.”

  “I have an idea!”

  Then the scene dissolved from Alvarado to the Moose Lodge hall. He was in all his glory: he looked handsome, powerful, and like someone, if you were the opposite of those things, that you’d want to be.

  “You will have the power, the wealth, the immortal life, and control over all you survey!” Ridge was now telling the members of The Moose Lodge why they ought to drink the Blood Kool-Aid.

  Moose Governor Phillip Lockwood was nodding in agreement. There looked to be some skeptics in the crowd, but Ridge and Lockwood were convincing.

  “One of their kind killed a bus full of fine, upstanding citizens. We need to stop them,” Ridge reminded the members of the lodge. That was another huge strike against the DLC, even though we knew that Lottie Bradbury was no longer a witch in good standing when she turned homicidal.

  “Yeah, and they’re into those shifters, that’s just wrong.” That was Derek, Dad Bod BEFORE he was turned. I had no idea what that was about. But, obviously, the old Moose members were feeling slighted and powerless, and they didn’t like it.

  “I’ll go first!’ And there he was, Dad Bod Vampire, Derek Heisenberg, stepping up to the plate to be the first supplicant vampire at-bat.

  “Wonderful. Let’s usher in a new era of The Bay! And take BACK THE BAY!” Ridge said and the chant we’d heard the other night was born.

  “Take back The Bay!”

  The chant got louder, and the vision swirled like a globe around the room. Then it splinted into a million sparks over the cauldron and sank into the liquid.

  The spell casting was over. We all stood for a moment and let what we’d witnessed sink in.

  And we knew now that it wasn’t just Alvarado against us: there were people in Widow’s Bay who were adamantly opposed to the DLC. No matter how much we did for the town, there were always people who wanted to do things differently. And who were willing to believe what they wanted to believe when the right promise came their way.

  “They think they’re going to be turned into Alvarado or Brule, but instead they’re being turned into Renfield. It’s not a good life,” Aunt Dorothy told us.

  “They’re being turned into slaves, voluntarily. Idiots.” Aunt Maxine remarked.

  “Well, we have to figure out a way to show them the truth,” I said.

  “Take Back The Moose!” Fawn said in the same chanting cadence we’d just heard.

  “Something like that,” I replied.

  “Alvarado found a new way to tip the balance, ladies. You better tip it back, or the town’s in trouble,” Aunt Dorothy warned.

  “Yep, always something,” Maxine chimed in, and she was right. It always was.

  Chapter 16

  On the morning of the pageant, I was preoccupied. I wondered how we were going to show the Moose members—the ones who’d not yet lost their minds over becoming vampires—

  that it was a raw deal. I knew that there had to be a way. We had to stop them before they voluntarily gave up their rights as humans to become slaves of Alvarado. Maybe the trolls ought to join The Moose and tell them what it was like working in the mine?

  I kept chewing on it. But the pageant must go on.

  I got another ‘atta girl call from my assignment editor, but it didn’t make me feel any better.

  “That video of The Frog Toe owner going ballistic was so good. So many views! Good work.” I felt guilty as heck about that now. I had contributed to the pe
rception that The Moose was a great civic organization, coming to the rescue and the DLC leadership were all unhinged.

  “Any storm follows you want me to do? I need to do them quickly; I have to get to the pageant. Thank you for that, by the way.”

  “Hey, look, you got the murder arrest scoop because you were at the pageant. So, you are welcome. As far as snow follows, it looks like Escanaba and points west got it way worse, so we’re going to be focused there today. You’re off the hook.”

  “Great.”

  “Oh, a few things. I checked Man Cave dot Net, here’s the address.”

  No surprise, it was the address of the lodge. I had thought all along that the negative P.R. campaign and The Moose’s hate for us was part of the same overall strategy.

  “And here’s a weird one, your local Moose was kicked out of the national organization last year. That’s why they go with the unaffiliated in the name.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Go forth and be judgmental. Don’t forget to post pics of the pageant.”

  “Okay.”

  Interesting but not earth-shattering. It seemed the Moose was working on a concerted P.R. campaign against the DLC and they were not really part of the Moose. They were actually kicked out of The Moose. That made me feel more charitable toward the other Moose Lodges out there; they shouldn’t be held responsible for the actions of this undead wannabe chapter.

  Clearly, Ridge was also getting to the state inspectors. That was another puzzle piece to look at if we wanted to halt the Take Back The Bay shenanigans.

  Fawn had been working overtime to be sure that her building and her vet practice were in perfect shape in case the government headed for her next. Aunt Dorothy had a good suggestion as well, and that was to look for the boss in Lansing of the local inspectors that Ridge seemed to be controlling.

  Still, we just didn’t know where Ridge’s puppets would turn their focus next.

  I made my way to the auditorium and was surprised to find it was packed, despite the weather that had socked in a lot of the Upper Peninsula. There were snowmobiles, trucks, and four-wheel drives in every parking spot.

  Nope, no snow days up here.

  I made my way inside. Pauline had the judge’s table right in the front of the audience, perfectly positioned to see the whole pageant unfold. After all the drama, it was still a darn good turnout. I marveled again at Pauline and Candy’s ability to figure out what would bring people to Widow’s Bay, even in the middle of a blizzard.

  It was standing room only in the high school auditorium, which was pretty big for a small district like Widow’s Bay.

  I had been able to avoid sitting next to Ridge at various points throughout this week of events, but now, in front of the entire audience, I was stuck. We were seated next to each other, and there was no way out. There were times I just wanted to grab my wand, knowing what it could do, and blast him into the next county. Responsible wand ownership was a thing, it turned out. I had my wand with me, and hoped, without more trial runs, I wouldn’t need to use it. But hope was a bad business plan.

  Luckily, just then the house lights went down to indicate everyone should hush up because the extravaganza was about to begin.

  “Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the First Annual Miss (or Mister) Vernal Equinox Pageant and Talent Show!” a prerecorded announcer voice boomed through the theater’s sound system. The Widow’s Bay High School Orchestra was in the pit. A spotlight popped on in the center of the curtain, and then it rose, revealing a parade of prancing contestants.

  They were handling the choreography with ease, even though they were two choreographers down on this event. I found myself sending good vibes to all the kids. I’d been forced into this gig, but after meeting all of them, I had to admit they were good kids. I hoped they all got something positive out of the pageant. I had already learned to stop being so judgy about judging.

  The contestants filed up onto risers near the back of the stage, and the packed audience offered them their first round of applause.

  Over the loudspeakers came the epic announcement:

  “And now, your HOST! Northern Michigan’s most in-demand Tony Orlando Impersonator, put your hands together for Phony Orlando!”

  A man in a tuxedo, who did, in fact, look a lot like Tony Orlando—just taller, heavier, and not at all Tony Orlando—expansively swept onto the stage as though he was used to thunderous applause upon his entry into any room. Maybe he was?

  “Knock three times! For the pageant that you will see!” Phony Orlando had rewritten Knock Three Times for the occasion. I was starting to see why he was the most in-demand Tony Orlando impersonator in ALL of Northern Michigan. I couldn’t imagine a Tony Orlando impersonator coming close to his level. Maybe in Southern Michigan, but I doubted it.

  He finished his custom-made intro song. I just had to let myself get into whatever the heck was happening here.

  “We begin tonight by introducing our esteemed panel of judges.”

  The spotlight fell on each of us as our credentials were read, as though we’d all won the Nobel Peace Prize. We had not, but it was nice.

  And finally, without further ado, the actual contest began.

  The talent portion, which took the most time, was up first. The audience was treated to a juggler, our comedian, a tap dancer, two modern dancers, and several singers.

  My money was still on Sofia Fisher. I saw from our score sheets; laid out in order of the performances that she was the final act. For that, I was glad. It would be tough to follow her artistry. This way, the field of contestants had a fighting chance to be scored on their own and not in comparison to her. I suspected that was Pauline’s doing, and I appreciated her again for all the details she managed with ease and energy.

  I dutifully marked my scorecard for each performance and Emil the Undertaker collected them. Tiffany Grupp was second to last. She and Sofia were both students of Miss Florine, as were several of the other dancing contestants.

  I realized that what Miss Florine had created was quite good.

  It was clear that Miss Florine was an exacting teacher. I remembered the poster on the wall: “Do It Again, Correctly.” I think she would have been proud of her pupils.

  Tiffany Grubb did a lovely dance to Party in the U.S.A. She did stumble once, and for a second, I thought she might lose the rhythm or something, but she pulled herself together and finished her performance. The judges were closest to the stage, and we’d seen the performances before, so I suspected only we would notice the slight wobble.

  Then we watched Sofia Fisher perform to a classical piece. She combined ballet and modern into something all her own. She was flawless; she had the audience in the palm of her hand. It was good, and my scores were going to reflect that.

  And then, toward the end, something awful happened. I couldn’t explain it, and I was sitting right there.

  My eyes hadn’t left her, but something caused her to slip, and then she tried to get up, and she slipped again. Unlike the previous blip of a flub up from Tiffany, the performance couldn’t go on. She’d gone flying in the wrong direction. I was legitimately concerned. Had she hurt herself? What the heck had happened? I was halfway out of my seat as the music stopped.

  Pauline ran to her; Pauline was able to walk across the surface of the stage with ease. But for a moment, during Sofia’s performance, it was almost as if the floor had turned to ice.

  Pauline helped Sofia off stage. She was limping and fighting back the tears, and I couldn’t help feeling that something had happened, something more than a stumble. But I was right there, and I couldn’t say what it was.

  The audience began to clap for her and even stand up. She was getting a standing ovation. In part for her dancing, and in part, I think in support. I was proud of my fellow Widow’s Bay citizens; they were showing Sofia Fisher love and support in what had to be a tough moment in her young life.

  It was quite an opening segment of the Miss (or Mister) Vernal Equinox Pagea
nt. I was spent, and we still had more talent, and interviews, to see. Pauline called for a previously unannounced intermission after Sofia’s fall. The audience needed a break as much as Sofia did.

  I wandered backstage.

  One of the new members of the Widow’s Bay Fire Department was on hand, assessing Sofia’s ankle.

  She’d clearly shed a tear or two. I didn’t know if it was because of the pain of an injury, or the disappointment over not delivering her best performance. My heart went out to her. She was one of those people who just wanted to do a good job.

  I smiled, gave her a thumb’s up, and hoped she was okay. I wasn’t allowed to do any more since fraternizing with the contestants during the show was prohibited, based on page 35, section 3, paragraph four of the judge’s code of conduct.

  A lot was happening backstage. Contestants doing makeup, hair, adjusting costumes; it was chaos. It was good to stretch my legs though and gather my energy for the rest of the event. Three hours in one seat was a lot for my old legs, I decided.

  As I was about to head back out to the judge’s table, I ran into Abbie Grubb. She initiated the conversation. I didn’t think it was against the code to be polite, but I hadn’t committed all Pauline’s massive rule book to memory.

  “Terrible for Sofia. I guess she’s going to have drop out. A real shame.”

  “I hadn’t heard that.”

  “Well, how could she not? I mean, after that tumble her act is ruined.”

  “Well, she was mostly through it. And, I mean, she was doing well up to that point. It was a lovely dance.”

  Abbie Grubb seemed to think I was insane for suggesting that this was anything but career ending.

  I was used to football; I was a football mom. Blood wasn’t even a reason to leave the game, and tripping? My sons had done their fair share of heart-stopping trips, rips, and bone breaks. I was used to a high pain threshold for these types of things. It was always brush it off and get back out there.

  But this was dancing and pageanting. The rules were different, I guess. I hoped I hadn’t offended anyone with the suggestion that Sofia might brush it off and pageant on.