Hilda the wicked witch (5 page)

The waiter came with the coffee, put it on the
table and looked at the ball for a few seconds. The look that this
earned him from Hilda was convincing enough to make him retreat to
the main area of the restaurant.

A snip of her fingers was then all it took to
separate her table from the rest of the place. Hilda sipped the
coffee. "Urgh. No Arabica. There is no witch or wizard at work
here, I know that." She was grateful that herknowledge of this
strange land was growing so rapidly. If the unfortunate would
happen and she could not return to her own land, this would not be
a bad place to linger for a while after all.

She closed her eyes for a moment, her hands on
the table, thumbs up and palms facing the crystal ball. Slowly she
envisioned her necklace, interspersing it with the desire to have
it back. Show me, crystal ball, where the necklace is. Where is my
property, my means to return to my homeland...

Patiently she worked up the power, drawing
energy from the coffee that went cold and white, and from the
strange light in a ball that was over her head. When warmth spread
in her palms, Hilda opened her eyes and looked at the crystal.
There were images forming. A fog, swirling and dancing in a
mesmerising manner. Hilda leaned over the table, until her wart was
almost against the ball. The images were there, very clear, but
hair of a unicorn, so small.

In the ball Hilda saw movement. Hair was flying,
there was wind and motion, and a roar she had heard before. It was
like the roar of the caged animal in the cart. Then, and there her
heart jumped, she saw her necklace. It was found. It rested on
skin, which was good. That would keep it charged. "Where is the
skin," she mumbled, "where is the movement, the roar... show me..."
Her voice dropped so low that only a mere crackle came from her
throat, but the crystal ball understood her.

The necklace, her dear and wanted necklace, was
around the neck of one of the women from the sad gang who were
travelling on their two-wheeled contraptions. Hilda had her
self-control grab her instinctive desire and fight it while it was
twisting to get away from her, urging her to go out, jump on the
broom and charge upon these miscreants.

Calm on the surface, but seething under the
skin, she looked around for clues where the travelling gang was.
There were wide roads with white lines on them. There were wide
open spaces to the left of the road, and hills to the right. There
was a smell of flowers. A slight revulsion tried to take over, but
she ignored it. More and more little signs came to her, in the tiny
images that unfolded before her inside the little crystal ball.
Announcements on poles on the side of the road, in screaming
colours and large letters. Fenced in cattle here and there. More
and more she became familiar with the area, with its position
compared to where she was now. This part of the planning was
crucial: staking out the proper territory where the hunt was going
to be staged. She had to get this right the first time.

Crystal balls are quite fickle. Charging the
ball itself is already hard work. Storing all the energy in such a
sphere is difficult and can even be dangerous, as the slightest
unevenness in the crystaline structure may cause a rupture in the
object and unleash the energy that's been stored in it already. Add
to that the effect of crystal splinters flying all around at high
speed, and you have an idea of the problems of that phase already.
Then there is the area in which you use a crystal ball. It has to
be free of unwanted energies, powers that can interfere or
influence the imagery that the ball is able to show. Worst of all,
as you may understand, is the fact that something a ball just
refuses to work.

Hilda however was a professional. She knew
witchcraft , and witchcraft knew her. They went back a long time
together, and her powers did not let her down. She slowly developed
a feel for the place that the gang was riding through. There was no
mistake possible, she knew where she had to go. Slowly she sat up
again and let her hands slide to the sides of the small table. The
images in the crystal ball dissipated, turned into the grey fog
again for a short while, and then they faded entirely.

"Very good, my little precious one," Hilda said
as she tucked the ball in a small pocket of her shoulderbag. "We
shall rise up and find this person Bubba and his bride. We'll
retrieve the necklace. And then..."

The shield that she had put up had hidden all
her actions from the people in the restaurant. The cackling
laughter that she uttered was not held back by the shield. Hilda
had not taken that little fact into account; she'd never had
to.

With the coffee gone bad there was no reason for
her to drink it. She got up, dropped the shielding and was stared
at by at least a dozen people.

Hilda stared back at them. As this was not meant
to become a stand-off, she just picked up her broom and started
walking through the main area of the restaurant, eyes diverting as
she passed the people who were directing said eyes. There was one
person who did not divert his eyes and that was the waiter.

"Miss, you forgot to pay. One regular
coffee."

That halted Hilda dead in her tracks. Pay. She
knew what it was, but she was not used to it, and she was not
inclined to pick up the habit in this strange place. But she was in
a hurry too. Conscience and urge were battling. Conscience won. She
manifested a gold coin and put it on a table. "This should cover
the expense. But never stop me again," she warned the man. Her nose
wiggled. With a look that prophesied doom she walked out of the
restaurant.

As the waiter stared at the coin, several people
got up, trying to see what this weird woman with her broom was upto
next. The waiter tried to walk to the door and found that his shoes
were firmly attached to the floor.

Hilda mounted the broom and shot into the air.
Far below three cars crashed into each other, as their respective
drivers had a moment of lack of attention for traffic, seeing a
woman and her broomstick mocking the most basic law of nature they
knew.

Higher and higher she rose, flying in wide
circles, peering out into the distance. The biggest mistake most
beginner witches made was to think that flying a broom was easy.
Hilda knew that the actual going up and making the broom move was
not, indeed. But finding your way when you are high up in the sky,
where everything looks different and there are no clues of where
you are, was a completely different ballgame. Many a young witch
had drifted off to the big seas and wasn't heard or seen ever
again.

The wicked witch was experienced in these
things, and it did not take her long to see what route she had to
take to catch up with the brutes on their roaring contraptions. She
urged the broom to a speed that was only feasible for the best
flyers. A tremble, a shake, a cough. Everything like that could
mean an end to the flight at velocities like these. But it was
necessary. Hilda wanted to retrieve what she wanted so
desperately.

After a while of flying, things started to look
familiar. The large sign, green, with big black letters. A field
with cattle. A large red sign with 2 connected golden arches. And
then, finally, in the distance, there were the six monster-carts
with only two wheels...

Bubba was angry. He was riding on the back of
his own machine, behind his woman, Angel. His hand was giving him
tremendous pain, making it impossible for him to ride his own bike.
This was so humiliating. And then there also were the large bruises
on his face and chest from when he had fallen to the ground in the
middle of the street. The collar was still around his neck, as well
as a few cuts from the attempts of Julius to cut the damned thing
off him.

The few times he allowed his woman to ride his
bike with him in back, he had the opportunity to squeeze Angel's
boobs. But even that small pleasure was not granted to him, as he
needed one hand, the good one, to hold on to her. And the other
hand... These thoughts, and not many other, revolved in his
brain.

Gollem, one of the silent types, gestured that
he would need to fuel up soon. Bubba nodded. Talking was
impossible, with the raging of the engines and the wind blowing in
their ears.

"Hey!"

Bubba did not respond. He didn't even register
the word that was yelled at him. The whack against the back of his
head registered all the better though. With a growl he looked to
the left, and what he saw there made him squeeze his arm around his
woman so tightly that he pressed all air out of her. That in turn
triggered her to bang on his hand, so he would let off again.

"Stop. Or I make you stop." Hilda was flying
next to Bubba's bike, just out of reach of his hand, in case he had
any plans with that.

"God-fucking-dammit! It's the bitch!", the
leader of the pack yelled. "Speed up!" His outburst was received by
all ears. Heads turned, eyes went large, accelerators were twisted
and speed picked up. From the bikes, as well as the broom.

Hilda sighed. She had stretched her boundaries
by actually telling them to stop once, and they did not listen.
Battling the wind, she grabbed hold of her wand and fired off a
spell to a spot half a mile further down the road. Then she slowed
down, seeing the motorcycles speed away from her.

At a more normal pace, one that allowed her to
breathe more normally and did not make her braids stand out in
straight lines behind her, she flew on. This was a very quiet road,
she knew. Nobody else would get hurt. Not that it mattered.

After half a mile, she made the broom drop to
the surface, picked it up and walked over to the street, where all
motorcycles stuck in the semi-liquid asphalt. Also their riders
were stuck in it. The asphalt did not let them get out of it, it
seemed to suck at them harder the more they fought it.

Hilda hung her broom in the air. It was showing
off, she knew, but these people seemed to need that. She planted
her feet firmly on the ground and placed her hands on her hips. "I
told you to stop." She made it sound as an accusation.

"Get us out of this shit, you bitch," was the
first thing Bubba could think of as a greeting.

"Witch," Hilda corrected him.

"What?"

"Witch. I am a witch. Also a bitch, I grant you
that, but that comes in the second place. Hmmm... Perhaps a bit
closer than that. But that's not why I am here. I want my necklace
back."

"First get us out of this fuckin' muck, bitch
witch," Bubba relayed the feelings of his companions and himself to
her.

"The necklace. It is around the neck of your
unworthy woman." Hilda pointed at the treasure, which unlocked
itself and floated to its rightful owner. Without her having to
lift another finger, the necklace settled itself around her neck.
The weight of it comforted her. Things would be well now. She could
go home and leave this asylum.

"Right. You got your fuckin' necklace. Now get
us out!" Bubba was almost out of himself with rage.

"You did not give me my necklace. I had to pick
it off her myself. I am not getting you out of it. Good luck."
Hilda turned and took her broom, when she heard a strange click. In
a reflex she cast a protective spell, and was not a second too soon
with that.

Smokey, one of the gang members, had pulled out
his gun. He had switched off the safety, which was what Hilda had
heard. As the witch turned back to the group that was stuck in the
slimey asphalt, Smokey aimed for her head. He knew that from this
distance he could not miss, and fired.

Hilda stared at him, while the bullet stuck in
her protective shield, several inches away from her face. "You
should not have done that. You have just made me angry."

"Hey lady, can't you just get us out?" Bluto
waved at her. "We don't mean you any harm, me and Julius and Bitch
here."

Hilda recognised the big man who had supplied
her the wine, in O'Malley's bar. He had also been the one to take
Bubba out on the leash when their mighty leader was afloat. "You
went with them. That means you feel you belong to them."

"Hey, you sent us away with them, remember?"
Bluto tried. "You even put his leash in my hand."

"Bluto, keep your stinking trap shut, you
blabbering idiot," Bubba vented his suppressed feelings. "You just
want out and leave me here to rot and you want your own gang."

Despite their distance in the goo, they tried to
punch each other's lights out.

Hilda raised her eyebrows. She could not believe
what she saw and heard. Slowly she reached for her wand, took the
crystal ball in her hand and slowly spoke her spell: "Commutatus
vestitus praecantrix."

The shoulderbag changed back to her witch's
attire. The denim clothes fell on the ground. Her braids were gone
and her long hair hung down her back. In her black clothes with the
wide dark red cloak she looked regal. And all the fearsome bad
witch she was.

The group in the liquified asphalt had not
noticed her change. They all were cheering Bubba and Bluto still
trying to hit each other. Everyone was joining in the brawl,
hitting everyone they could reach.

"Stop." Hilda's voice thundered, and had the
intended result. After waiting for the shouting of the men and
women on the half-hidden bikes to end, she stepped forward to where
the road stopped being solid.

"This was the second time I had to tell you to
stop," Hilda said. "You are incorrigable. You act like children.
You don't listen. You shout, you fight. I loathe you." She picked
her broom from the air behind her again and hung it where she could
easily sit on it.

"Do you now, bitch," Smokey mumbled and in a
move fast as lightning, or at least he hoped it looked like that,
he raised his gun and fired. He tried to anyway, but his finger did
not move. And then the rest of his arm did not want to cooperate.
"FUCK!", he screamed, as needles seemed to sting in his entire arm.
He dropped the gun and saw it slowly sink into the concrete where
his own legs and groin were stuck also.