Chapter 3
" Your whole crop?" Trying with all her might to pull back the words that had just jumped out of her mouth before her brain had engaged, or rather tamp down the shock with which she delivered that statement, Glo got as far as "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean…" before the person on the other end of the call interrupted.
“Yes, ma’am. The whole crop is gone,” Greta Greenthumb sadly confirmed, the sound of the Scottish Highlands thick in her voice. “And I understand. I did a lot more than gasp when it happened. You have nothing to apologize for.”
It broke Glo’s heart to see the pain in the eyes of the Queen of the Hill Giants of Camas Darach. She looked so incredibly sad, so dejected, so… lost. The usually electric Emerald of her eyes was dull and rimmed in red, and the cute, ruddy pink that always dotted her cheeks and perfectly contrasted with the brilliant green of her skin had been replaced by the sullen sallowness of sorrow.
Before Glo could ask her next question, the Giantess Queen, a very tall, very imposing, but also very loving and caring Gurgess who resembled Fiona from one of the Brown Witch's favorite movies, started to sob, "The whole damn thing…" Stopping to inhale, she sniffled and wiped her eyes. "…E–Every leaf, b–bloom, berry, and vine. One minute, I-I was going from tree to tree with my special fertilizer and plant food, and the next–the next, they-they were all just gone." Hiccupping her inhale, tears the color of light, unroasted pistachios rolling down her cheeks, Greta exhaled a wail filled with so much anguish that it shook the walls of the Witch's home. "Gone! Gone! Goooonnnnneeeee! Dead! Dead, I tell you! My babies are deeeeeaaaaaddddd!”
When Greta stopped to take a breath, and her shriek was only an echo, Glo knew what she had to do. It was time to turn the sinking ship of her life's work around before it was joined by Greta's Mistletoe crop and was Gone! Gone! Gooonnneee!
“Don’t you worry even one of the cute, cascading chartreuse curls on your head, my friend. Give me thirty seconds. I’ve got an idea.”
“Are you seriously thinking what I think you’re thinking?” Hill scoffed from her place on Nostradamus’s shoulder.
“You know I am,” Glo scowled. “Now, hush.”
“Nope, not gonna do it,” Hillary sassed before picking up right where she’d left off. “Because if you are thinking what I know you’re thinking, then I need to warn you that….”
Ignoring her feisty Familiar, Glo tapped Em on the shoulder even as the telepathic phone in her head continued to ring, bing, and ding–a–ling–a–ling as if it knew there could be no tomorrow. Waiting until the Fey Dragon politely told the person she was talking to that they would be back in touch as quickly as Magically possible and looked her way, Glo proudly announced, “I’m gonna send out an All–Call.”
“You really need to…”
“No, Hillary,” Glo snapped. “ You really need to hush it up.”
Not willing to waste another second on the negativity her Familiar was tossing around like Mardi Gras beads, she returned her sassy Brown Witch gaze to the Fey Dragon and smiled as if the last ten seconds hadn't happened. Picking up right where she'd left off, she enthusiastically explained, "I truly believe if we all get on a single wavelength and focus all our Magic, Mysticism, Enchantment, and great, gorgeously green thumbs, we can turn this all around."
“You mean….”
“Damn straight, Sista Friend. I’m gonna talk to all my people at the same time. It’s the only way. They need to hear the plan directly from the horse’s mouth.”
“Well, you’re more like a horse’s ass, but I…”
“I’m only gonna tell you one more time, Hillary” Glo seethed. Eyes sliding to the right, she speared the Pink Pygmy Hippo with a look she hopped stuck fear in her Familiar’s heart. Then with a single, sharp point of her finger, she growled through gritted teeth, “If you don’t…”
"I think Hill and I need to make some hot cocoa," Noss politely interjected. Getting to his feet, the Gargoyle smiled politely while holding onto the Hippo's feet, which hung off his shoulder. "Sounds like everybody needs something sweet and yummy to keep this machine rollin’ at optimum efficiency.”
"Thank you, Sweetie," Em cooed to her Mate's back as he made a beeline toward the kitchen. Then, to Glo, the Fey Dragon added with a giggled whisper, "Isn't he the best?"
“He really is,” Glo agreed.
Inhaling, she held her breath for the count of three while shaking her hands, then exhaled quickly before continuing, "I have to do this All-Call. I need to let all my people be part of the solution. They also need to see the amazing tracking system you and Noss set up. They need to know that we weren't just sitting here twiddlin’ our thumbs and waitin' for them to figure it out on their own. Ya know what I mean?”
"I do, Honey. I do," Em beamed. She really was the best cheerleader Glo could have ever hoped for and one damn fine friend.
“You really are the best.”
"I don't know about all that," the Fey Dragon snickered, wrinkling her nose. "Now, give me your hand, and I'll help boost your signal." Then, with a wink, she added, "Not that you need any help at all. I just…"
“You just wanna help.”
“You know it.”
“And for that, I love you all the more.”
Holding out her hand, Glo waited until her bestie’s fingers were wrapped tight within her own, then opened her mind to every Dwarf, Elf, Gnome, Giant, and all the Others in her vast Magical Mistletoe Network–as it was known to everyone far and wide. Shoving all the Enchantment she, Em, Nostradamus, and a less–than–thrilled Hillary K. Hippo could muster, the Brown Witch of Peace, Protection, and Eternal Love smiled so brightly that she knew the ones she considered her Gang of Supernatural Growers would feel how very much she adored and appreciated each and every one of them as she conjured a metaphysically Magical screen of her own and beamed, “Hello, my beautiful people! Glo here. I know today has already been a real… Well, let’s just call it what it is–a real kick in the ass, and the sun just came up over here, but that doesn’t matter. First of all, I gotta tell you how proud I am of your quick response and incredible attentiveness. Oh, and let us not forget your amazing patience with me. If you don’t know what I’m talkin’ ‘bout, then just get in touch with Gustav after this is all over. Give him a hug, a pat on the back, and a big, old Atta-Boy for not reaching through the Magical airwaves and bopping me right up the side of the head when he called, and I was a big, grouchy Grinch."
Pausing when most of the Others she was talking to chuckled, giggled, or outright laughed, Glo waited exactly three seconds before continuing. “I know we’ve only ever used the All-Call once before during a crisis. However, I think we can all agree that it was nothin’ like what we’re facin’ right now. No, the All–Call wasn’t an overwhelming success that first time. We had our share of hiccups, and it took me a month–even with Magic–to get my eyebrows to grow back–but never fear. The times, they are a-changin', and this time, I believe we are due some good luck, and boy, howdy, did we get some from some fantastic friends. Just check it out! Super Em and Wonder Noss have come to our rescue. Look at the one–of–a–kind, extra–special tracking map they created for us.”
Turning toward the map, Glo opened her eyes and her mind as wide as they would go just to be sure all her people could see everything. Waiting for a second until the oohs and aahs subsided, she explained, "Every one of those blinking, red lights is one of your Greenhouses, Nurseries, Tree Farms, Hydroponic Hothouses, Great Oak Forests, and the likes. There's some good and bad news. The good news is that those lights will normally be green and glowing steadily. The bad news is…."
But that was as far as she got before a gigantic, colossal collective gasp filled her mind and the room all around her. It felt like every molecule of air had been sucked from the atmosphere all over the world. For a moment–way longer than she'd ever thought possible–it was as if her lungs no longer worked.
Worst of all, it felt like her mind was a balloon hooked to an industrial shop vac on reverse. The vision of a balloon losing its air at a high rate of speed, zigging and zagging forward and backward through the air as the horrific hiss of escaping air sounded louder than the roaring of Taranis, the Celtic god of Thunder and Lightning when he’d stubbed his toe on the bedpost.
Black spots danced before her eyes. Flashes of deep green and bright white mixed with splashes of blinking and twinkling incandescence bled into a muddy brown that had the alarms in Glo’s mind clanging and banging like the iron bell outside Granny Esta’s when the fried chicken was ready at a Brown Family Coven Reunion and Skyclad Under the Full Moon Celebration every April thirtieth through May first–or as some called it, Walpurgis Night.
She'd seen that ugly brownish red before. She knew it just as sure she knew her name was Gloria Angelica Brown, just as sure as she was the Brown Witch of Peace, Protection, and Eternal Love, and absolutely just as sure as her Mate was Christopher Alexander Archer.
But from where? Why couldn’t she remember? What the hell was…?
Robbed of all thought, the only thing she could do was gasp, “What in all the holy fuckinations?” as Em and Noss’s beautiful, glorious, and perfectly wonderful map of the world wavered and morphed and twisted and turned into all manner of inconceivable, incomprehensible images right before it went completely black.
Ready to explode, implode, and Magically blast out of existence whoever or whatever dared to fuck with the best present anyone had ever given her, Glo got as far as, "Whoever the hell you are, I’mma gonna…”
Unable to finish her threats as the map snapped, crackled, and popped back to life, everything felt wrong in more ways than she could count. Glo’s jaw dropped, her mouth hung open in the most unattractive of ways, and she was sure her eyes were going to spring from her head then bounce back and forth like all the characters in all the cartoons she loved as much as an adult as she had as a child.
The red lights were gone. The fluorescent white backdrop flashed like a strobe light in a cold gray hue that made her think of death, and it only got worse from there.
The perfectly drawn lines of continents, countries, parishes, townships, counties, and borders of all descriptions were gnarled and broken and fading fast. At first glance, they looked like nothing but eraser shavings–but then they moved, and Glo thought she might barf up what little coffee she'd swallowed since she'd been awakened less than two hours earlier.
Slithering across the Magical, Mystical Atlas with a mind of their own, they resembled roaches scrambling when the lights came on in a dirty kitchen somewhere she never wanted to be. Bumping into each other and then bouncing in every direction, Glo swore she could hear the eerie tipping and tapping of their little buggy feet on the Enchanted screen. The longer she listened, the louder it got until the tiny little curls at the nape of her neck straightened out and stood on end with such fervor it was as if they were trying to jump from their follicles. The sheer force had goosebumps sliding down her spine and dancing the bunny hop–emphasis on the–all the way back to where they'd started.
Unable to move, she couldn’t even acknowledge Em when the Fey Dragon squeezed her hand, pulled on her arm, and whispered into her mind. “Glo, Glo, are you…?”
“What the…?” Glo interrupted with a shout as the eraser shavings that had turned into bugs were marching to their own tune and forming an image she’d never imagined seeing. It was her very worst nightmare, developing in living, breathing, digital color right before her eyes.
“No, that can’t… She’s been dead for… No fuckin’…!” But no matter how many times she blinked her eyes, shook her head, and denied what she saw with her very own eyes, there was no mistake. The beautiful map created by her bestie had turned into the most heinous creature the Brown Witch of Peace, Protection, and Eternal Love had ever known.
“I swear, I thought she was…”
“Me, too, girl,” Hillary commiserated as she and Noss returned from the kitchen. “Me too.”
“Who is…?
But Glo couldn't hear the rest of her bestie's question. Hell, she could barely breathe. It was too horrible to imagine, but there it was, right before her eyes.
Antennae at least six feet long rippled and rolled as they undulated from the top of what resembled a helmet that covered the head of the nastiest Shifter she'd ever known. The rolled and curled edge of that icky hard hat, part of her exoskeleton, covered all of her frons, or forehead, and, worse yet, highlighted the millions of shiny black and creepily beady little lenses that made up her huge, bulbous eyes. Right below, and even more icky, grotesque, and disgusting, were hundreds of thousands of setae–dark, prickly, and spikey stubbles of thick, coarse hair that moved up and down, as the only living Twig Beetle Shifter in the entire world raised and lowered the sharp point of her mandible and the little pinchers on either side.
“This makes no sense. It just can’t be. There’s just no way.”
“Oh, but it does, and it can be, and oh, yes, yes, yes, there is a way, Gory, Gory, bo bory, banana fana fo fory, fee fie mo mory, Gory Gory Gloria," the Beetle sang with such gusto that her off-key nasally tune almost made the Witch's ears bleed. "As old Samuel Clements used to say, 'the reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.'" Throwing back her capsule-shaped head and letting her long, black hair that was neither as silky nor as shiny as it once had been but was still such dark ebony that it looked highlighted with blue, even her maniacal cackle wasn't enough to distract Glo from the jagged, thin and elongated fangs shooting from the corners of her orangey-red gelatinous labium or the hairy little wiggly leggy-things that shimmied and shook.
“You just know those nasty little tusks are filled with venom,” Hillary hissed directly into her mind. “Black Magic does not play fair.”
“No, it does not,” Glo breathed, as images of her time at Cora Killjoy’s Correctional Commune for Precocious Paranormal Prepubescents came flooding back.
“It won’t be forever,” Molly assured. “Give me a week or two. I promise I’ll convince Auntie Eleanor that you didn’t blow up the shed. That you weren’t even there when it happened.”
“I didn’t,” Glo huffed. “It was…”
“I know who it was,” her cousin nodded. “And I’ll make her admit it.”
“I know you will. Just…”
“Don’t worry.” Pulling her into a hug, Molly whispered, “The girls and I have an idea. Helena Hatfield won’t know what hit her when we get done with her.”
Holding on tight, Glo squeezed her eyes closed as tightly as she could. Absorbing all the love and adoration coming from her older, wiser, and infinitely more powerful cousin, she gave it right back in spades. If anyone could clear her name, it was her cousins–Molly, Ella, Vi, and Lucky Brown. They were just the best. They always had each other's back in every situation and always would. There was no doubt in her mind that the true culprit would be brought to justice. She just hated that her Aunties hadn't believed her, but then again… she, Gloria Angelica Brown, was nothing if not a handful of a teenage Witch.
Letting go of Molly, she stepped back, winked, and snapped her fingers before she lost her nerve and ran off to hide in the middle of the Swamp with the Galahad Gator Congregation. Whooshing through the Ether, it was less than ten seconds before she touched down on the narrow stone steps of the administration building of Cora Killjoy’s Correctional Commune for Precocious Paranormal Prepubescents. Raising her hand, the tips of her fingers had just grazed the massive brass knob when the doors flew inward, and she was grabbed by a set of the biggest imaginary hands she'd ever imagined.
Butt landing on a very hard, very cold, very orange plastic chair, a belt came around her waist and squeezed her tighter than Princess Periwinkle’s corset a split second before she was zooming upward at a high rate of speed. Stopping just before her head made contact with the marble ceiling, she flew to the left, made a sharp right turn that almost tossed her from the chair, and then came to a screeching halt inside a room straight out of one of the Alfred Hitchcock movies Auntie Penelope loved so much.
Unceremoniously dumped from the hard plastic chair, she landed with one hip on a soft, red, crushed velvet cushion while her other had sadly come into contact with a very unforgiving, highly ornately carved solid oak armrest. Sliding into an almost upright position, she rubbed the outside of her thigh, praying the resulting bruise wouldn’t show from under the orange and black plaid skirts she knew the girls attending Cora Killjoy’s Correctional Commune for Precocious Paranormal Prepubescents were forced to wear.
“That’s gonna leave a mark,” she grumbled. Then added, “Shame Hilly’s not here to tell me to build a bridge and get over it or that it's all my fault. If I hadn't listened to that idiot, Bobbi Sue Mackey, I wouldn't have been outside the shed when it blew up." Shaking her head, she huffed, “I never thought I’d miss that pain in the butt Hippo, but I do. She told me not to go. Why didn’t I listen?”
“Well, Miss Brown, if you behave yourself and can convince me that you’ve seen the error of your ways, I will allow your Familiar to come and stay with you for the duration of your stay.”
Of course, that never happened. Thankfully, it was because Molly and the others proved Glo's innocence and brought the responsible parties to justice. Obviously, it was not because the young Brown Witch of Peace, Protection, and Eternal Love was a model student.
However, during her stay at Cora Killjoy’s Correctional Commune for Precocious Paranormal Prepubescents, Glo met a girl she thought of as a kindred spirit. From the first time they laid eyes on each other, she and Twiggy Girdler were fast friends. It was as if they shared a brain–and not only a penchant for finding trouble.
At fourteen years old, Twiggy was six-foot tall, thin, and gorgeous with one green eye and the other blue, and long straight hair, so black it looked like it had blue highlights in the light of the Full Moon. As the last living Twig Beetle Shifter, Twiggy, or Twigs as Glo used to call her, had not yet come into her Shift and, therefore, lacked access to her governing god, Tithonus, the Greek Deity of Insects, and her Magic, but that didn't stop Miss Twiggy Mayflower Girdler.
She was a force unto herself, and when the girls were together there was nothing they wouldn’t do or dare the other to try. It was only by the grace of the Goddess and the loving nature of Glo’s Family that they girls never got caught.
Since Twiggy was an orphan, along with her nature for mischief, she'd been at Cora Killjoy's Correctional Commune for Precocious Paranormal Prepubescents since her ninth birthday. When Gloria was given her walking papers, she begged her Aunties to take Twigs in, and the rest, as they say, was history.