48. Go Fish #2
She didn’t have time to properly enjoy the sensation.
Time was moving forward once again, and Cormac’s spectral teeth were gnashing.
“It isn’t true about eating shifters! That’s an old charlatan’s tale!” Lucretia shouted, now freed from her bonds.
“It’s still worth a shot.” Cormac’s eyes were all pupil. They bulged with ravenous desire, and she could see the tip of his tongue poking out from between his parted lips.
“Talk about your deer in the headlights.” Cormac smirked, advancing another step towards Arthur.
And there it was again. The glint in the cabinet. Time standing still.
Cormac froze, but Maida did not. She began to sway and wave her arms as she sketched out a vision in the air.
She pictured the bookshop, the cafe and the twinkling of stars in her turret bedroom.
She imagined Granny’s afghans and mugs of cocoa, and sitting in front of a warm, cozy fire.
She thought of feelings first. Then she imagined physical things.
And then finally, as she drew them in the air, she said the words aloud.
One by one, Maida conjured all the creature-comforts that made her feel most safe, finally focusing most intently on the one that she and Arthur had in common.
Mr. Pants.
“Abracadabra,” she said. “I create as I speak.”
How long did it take? Five seconds? Maybe six?
When she opened her eyes again, Maida was still standing in the chilly basement Archives. But she was no longer cold now that she had magic to warm her. She was delighted to discover that she was also wearing Granny’s afghan like a cape. Mr. Pants was safely tucked under her arm.
“What have you done with him?” Cormac roared in frustration as he came back to life. “Where is he?” He whirled around in a circle before turning his famished, snarling tornado of teeth in her direction.
“Get out of here Mr. Pants!” Maida flung the toy away from herself, aiming for the stairs.
Cormac swiveled and lunged at the toy, missing it by mere inches.
The cyclone of teeth retracted back into his wand as he gave up and gave chase on foot.
But he couldn’t keep up with Mr. Pants. The toy moved more quickly than him, eluding him as it bounced through the Archives, up the stairs, and out the door.
Lucretia clapped her hands. “Well done!” she whispered to Maida.
“Enough with these distractions!” Cormac stood at the top of the stairs, glaring down at them. He reached into his pocket for yet another snack, only to find he was out. He grimaced. “Not to be a bane bard, ladies, but it looks like it’s about time for me to hit the road.”
Outside the high windows, the first rosy tendrils of dawn were streaking the horizon. Cormac eyed the overstuffed suitcase still on the floor below and raced back down the stairs.
“I don’t know what you did with the shifter, but this is not over,” Cormac said, waving his wand at everything and everyone in the room.
He gathered the suitcase under one arm and turned towards the stairs. Almost as an afterthought, he reached out to rip the afghan off Maida’s back as he strode by.
It was a terrible mistake.
All the carnivorous flowers crocheted into the design sprang to life at once, rearing their hideous hissing heads.
One of the largest blooms, an oversized black blossom that was surely a cousin of the unfortunate corsage on her wrist, thrust its feral face forward and struck.
It tore a chunk of flesh from Cormac’s outstretched arm, causing him to drop his wand.
“Pernicious plant!!” Cormac howled, dropping the suitcase to grip his damaged limb. “That was my wand arm, you slobbering shrub!”
“Excuse me?” A timid voice rang out from the hallway above. “Hello? Is anybody here? Is everything alright?” Maida heard the unmistakable sound of sturdy, sensible shoes trudging down the hallway.
“My goodness, what time is it? I must have drifted off,” Hildegarde mused. “Hello?” She tapped at the light switch by the entry to the Archives with her wand.
And then the poor, discombobulated witch came clomping down the stairs.
“Look out! Hildegarde!”
“Stay where you are. Don’t come down here!”
Maida and Lucretia both called out, trying to warn the bumbling witch away.
Cormac lunged forward to retrieve his fallen wand, but it jumped away from him every time he tried to grab it. He scrabbled on the floor frantically, reaching mistakenly for empty wrappers, as he grew increasingly more agitated and weak.
“It was right here a second ago! What is this trickery? Where did it go?!”
“Looking for something?” An elderly witch materialized before their eyes.
She had her hand in a paper baggie, as if she meant to scoop animal refuse.
The stem of Cormac’s wand poked out of the open end.
Now that he was no longer waving it around, it looked shabby and pathetic.
Several pieces of mirror were missing from the mosaic on the handle.
“I think it’s time we did away with this, don’t you?” The elderly witch opened a drawer marked Magical Waste Disposal, and dropped it in. When she slammed it shut, they heard the whir of machinery, followed by a crunching sound and suction.
“Oh good. Is that you Minerva, dear? Are you back, then? Do you know whose toy this might be? I found it in the cafe.”
Hildegarde reached the bottom of the stairs just in time to see Cormac lunge.
“Oh heavens, no!” she cried. “You stop that at once!” And with a flick of her wand, Hildegarde turned Cormac into a tiny flopping fish.