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  Here it comes, finally. The other two men were too quick. My. My. Mm. Mm. Mm…

  The man groaned and shuddered.

  Okay, my turn.

  “Yi!” the man screamed and pulled out of her, staring down with horror.

  “What’s the matter?” she panted. “Why did you stop? You are not even finished yet.” She slapped her hands against her belly. “Come on! Do me!”

  She grabbed his head, pushing it against her. Damn! He had gotten strong suddenly, and her hands…what the…why did her hands look so wrinkled?

  He jumped from the bed, picked up his clothes (He did not even bother to put on his clothes.), jerked open the hotel-room door, and ran out the door as if the devil was after him.

  Dima had looked down at her naked body, a sagging mess of 97-year-old wrinkles. She atrophied with age in every bodily part possible.

  She had shifted back to an ancient crone in front of him and all because of a little excitement.

  And then two hours later at dinner there was the infamous sneeze in front of a restaurant full of witnesses.

  Dima jumped up from the bed and felt dizzy.

  Oh, too fast. You are gonna kill yourself. Oh, my heart cannot take this disappointment and seesawing.

  Dima held her aching back and walked slowly to the bathroom.

  No wonder she was weak! Her reflection was of the ancient Dima, of her true ancient self with rheumatoid arthritis and fingers bent so she would cast a spell on herself if she pointed her hands to zap anybody.

  She grabbed at the rock and it burned her.

  Pompeii had a temper, the runt.

  “All out of bubbly and happy times! DAMN IT!”

  Dima was about to throw the empty bottle of Strega to the floor and break it and then she hesitated, stopped by the sunny yellow label. The drawing on the label was of a group of women holding hands, dancing around a giant walnut tree. The witches appeared happy frolicking with Roman fauns and appearing so free.

  The couple next to Dima at dinner had spoken about an enchanted walnut tree and witches. Summer Solstice, the next Witches’ Sabbath was on June 22nd, less than a month away. There should be a gathering to celebrate Summer Solstice.

  It is no longer safe for me in Pompeii, she thought. At dinner tonight in the restaurant was not the first time she had shifted back to her old self in front of witnesses or a witness.

  Perhaps in Benevento, which is known as the Town of Witches, I will find my rightful place. I must prepare first, however. It would be dangerous to fart or sneeze in front of a gathering of witches. They would never believe that allergies cause me to shift into another being.

  Dima pulled out a map of Italy, spreading the paper across the bed. Benevento was almost directly north of Pompeii, slightly to the east, about 59 miles.

  “I’m sorry,” she said to Pompeii. “Okay, you are the boss, magic rock. I did not mean any insult to your powers. You have taught me well. Now I know to control my happy times and to curb my appetite though I can now eat as much as I want and just shift into a slender woman.” Control takes the fun out of sex and eating, she glumly thought. I am unsure how to stop the sneezing.

  The rock cooled from a bright red to a cool blue in color, signaling that its temper tantrum was over and Pompeii had accepted her apology.

  Dima picked up the shapeshifting stone with gnarled fingers. She spun and imagined a redhead this time instead of a blonde. Yes, a fiery temptress with a big jiggling bosom.

  The cats at first screeched like they had at her other identity of a young blonde. At least they screeched until they had a chance to sniff her.

  They now sniffed the fiery redhead, recognizing the old Dima in young skin.

  Dima quickly packed up her things and abandoned the room via the roof, dragging the trunk behind her.

  The 17 cats followed, wagging their tails.

  She walked back into the hotel via the front door. She veered towards the young waiter who she had earlier shifted in front of.

  The waiter did not recognize Dima since she now appeared to be a different woman.

  Dima brushed her bare arm against him, muttering some words.

  The waiter suddenly itched. He scratched furiously at the spot here Dima had touched him.

  She smiled and walked over to the hotel reception. Dima registered under a different name.

  Chapter 6

  IF DIMA WAS TO ASSOCIATE WITH MAGIC FOLK, SHE MUST LEARN TO CONTROL HER SHIFTING. It was imperative that she keep Pompeii a secret, especially from those who hungered for power. For three weeks she stayed mostly in her hotel room tickling her nose with a flower. She practiced sneezing without turning into an old woman or any other telltale signs that she possessed the power of shapeshifting. She practiced various body jolts, from the minor upset of farting to the major release of a self-inflicted orgasm.

  Finally, she was able to scream like a banshee, fart like a fat man, and sneeze violently without shifting into her ancient self.

  For the next three weeks Dima kept busy at night under the light of the moon transforming into other creatures, trying to discover what animal was her shifting-familiar, so to speak. In other words, which type of creature did she feel most comfortable in? The popular shifting animal form was a wolf but Dima did not care to be a pack animal, if only for a night.

  According to the Tree of Life book, a shifting stone granted its owner the power to shift into both genders. In this regard only a shifter’s imagination limited the shifting powers of the stone. However, a shifter could only pick one other different species to shift into and this creature was known as the shifter’s familiar.

  What Dima needed was a shifting creature that was impressive yet practical.

  It was a black night and Dima made her way through the streets of Pompeii. She stopped at a store and purchased a bottle of Strega, the liqueur known as The Witch. The store owner told her that Strega was the Italian word for witch and that the liqueur was produced in Benevento. Dima’s hunch was right. The tree on the label of the bottle of yellow liqueur must be the magic walnut tree of Benevento.

  Dima opened the bottle of Strega and took a swallow, smacking her lips at the taste of saffron, cinnamon, iris, mint, fennel, and juniper. The witch liqueur was a tad sweet.

  The tree will appear in Benevento during the Summer Solstice, she thought. I must be ready.

  Dima made her way to the outskirts of new Pompeii while drinking Strega. The cats followed her path to the ruins of ancient Pompeii, zigzagging with Dima as she emptied the bottle.

  She staggered towards the Villa of the Mysteries. Here eyes were red and her vision blurry. She sometimes saw double.

  Ah, after circling around, she found the villa. “Sonofabitch I should not have imbibed so much else how could I miss this large Villa? It’s a mystery!” She laughed at her pun.

  The Villa of the Mysteries was well preserved due to the Mount Vesuvius eruption that once buried the villa. It was close to midnight so no tourists lurked about to stick their noses up her business.

  The Villa of the Mysteries was famous for one room which contained frescoes depicting the initiation of a woman into a Greco-Roman cult, the mystery cult of Bacchus, Roman God of wine.

  There was half a bottle of Strega left which Dima poured into the horn of a bull, drinking as the Romans once did.

  In the other hand she held the shape-shifting rock.

  Just as the members of the wine cult once did, Dima danced around the room.

  The cats danced around Dima. Soon, she would be dancing with witches. Dima had been lonely these past dozen years. She was the last of her band of gypsies. She missed being part of a group. She was excited about the Benevento covens and yet anxious.

  She sucked up the last of the Strega and crashed into a wall. It really was not a good idea to spin with the shapeshifting stone while drunk but Dima had decided on her shapeshifting familiar.

  As she spun, she thought of an owl, wise like her. An owl would give her the
gift of flight and the ability to see in the dark

  Feathers began to grow on her body.

  Her arms formed into wings and her toes into talons.

  Dima stopped spinning; her transformation complete yet the room kept spinning due to her being drunk. She turned her head 270 degrees and hooted.

  The cats all raised their fur, hissing at her.

  “It’s me, you idiots,” she yelled at them after Dima realized that she could speak even though she had shifted into an owl. True, her words were garbled speaking through a beak. She, also, slurred her speech because of the Strega.

  The cats ran from the room, screaming with high-pitched meows.

  There was an ancient Roman hand mirror made from shiny metal on a table.

  Dima looked at the mirror and screeched in an owl voice.

  Staring back at her from the mirror was a very big snowy owl, with big yellow eyes and white feathers on the face. The dense feathers mostly covered the beak. And like all female snowy owls, the feathers which covered the rest of the body were white outlined with black. Massive white feathers, appearing more like fur, covered the taloned feet. Being Russian, her familiar was the snowy owl, a bird of prey well suited to cold climates.

  “Well, I may as well try out my wings,” she said to the women in the frescoes who represented an image of being initiated into the mystery cult of Bacchus.

  Dima moved toward the exit of the Villa of the Mysteries, rocking back and forth on her talons, and cussing at the awkward way of walking.

  She lifted her owl face to the half-moon and launched into the night sky, thinking that perhaps she should have waited until she was completely sober to attempt to fly.

  Her first landing was a bit tricky and Dima ended up on the roof of the hotel. Well, a roof landing was better since she must shift into herself.

  No one noticed the huge owl spinning on the roof. The owl was three feet tall.

  The owl’s legs grew into the shapely legs of a young woman.

  The wings became arms.

  The feathers seemed to meld into the chest and become skin.

  The face and head transformed into a human.

  Finally, Dima the woman stretched from three feet to five-foot-five inches in height.

  Dima stood on the roof; a bit rocky on her feet since she was still a bit woozy from the Strega. She lost a shoe somewhere and snagged her hose. A little tree branch stuck out of her sweater and leaves tangled her hair.

  She decided it was best to crawl on the roof over to the attic door.

  Damn, she had locked the door and lost the key.

  Dima sighed, trying to remember the spell for opening locks. Her brain was foggy.

  She tried several spells and finally said, “Tick Tock, deadlock.”

  The lock melted off the door, sliding down the wall, and disintegrating to ashes.

  Dima stumbled down the stairs to her room where she passed out on a soft feather bed.

  Chapter 7

  DIMA DISCOVERED IN THE TREE OF LIFE BOOK THE PERFEFCT TIME SPELL. She had a great item stored in her trunk on which to cast the enchantment. She opened the lid and took out a hand mirror. This was no ordinary mirror but had once belonged to Catherine the Great, Empress of Russia. Hence, the lavishly-jeweled mirror was nearly two centuries old. She needed an aged item of reflection to turn the object into a glimpse of the past.

  Dima stared at her face in the mirror and muttered the magic words that would transform the mirror into a Looking-Glass-of-Time.

  Fog engulfed the mirror and when the fog lifted, Dima was looking into a black hole.

  “Show me my grandmother,” she said to the mirror.

  Dima watched as Catherine the Great came into view. Her grandmother wore a dressing gown and complained to her maid that she had not slept well. The empress sipped from a cup of coffee and then went into her dressing room where she collapsed and died from a stroke, according to a doctor that tried to revive Catherine.

  The light into the past went out and Dima could once more see only her reflection in the mirror. She turned to her cats and said, “My grandmother died from natural causes. She did not die from having sex with a horse. It was her servants who spread that rumor.”

  The mirror had a crack down the center and the past had only been visible on the bottom half. Dima spoke once again to the mirror. “Show me the lobby of the hotel I am staying in.”

  Fog rose from the top half of the mirror and when the fog cleared it was as if Dima was looking into a window of the lobby. The staff was bustling about.

  Unfortunately, there was no time spell which would show the future. However, now that Dima had a window into the past and present, she was ready to travel to the witch city of Benevento.

  She checked out of the hotel with 17 cats following behind her with their tails held high in the air and blowing farts out of their furry butts. Dima was still angry about her, uh, allergy attack and the fact that she had to quickly pack her belongings, sneak from the hotel via the roof, and then check back into the hotel as another woman. Plus, she barely escaped being arrested. Consequently, she shoved the hotel exit open with her back, lifted her fingers, and muttered a spell from the Key of Solomon magic book.

  A light fog slithered across the walls and floor of the hotel, entering the vents and air circulation system. It took less than a minute for the hotel to stink like an infestation of skunks.

  People started coughing, vomiting, and running for the doors.

  Dima slammed the front exit and flared open her fingers. There was a zapping sound on the exit doors, locking everyone inside, at least until management could find the key and let everyone out to breathe fresh air.

  The hotel caters to snotty guests, Dima thought as she dragged her trunk towards the train station.

  The cats meowed, agreeing with her. Somehow between the cats sleeping and living with Dima and the Starostavne Books of Magic in the room glowing between the pages, the cats and Dima had formed a telepathic connection. Dima supposed this meant that she had 17 familiars. Most witches had only one familiar. Plus, Dima had her shifting familiar, the snowy owl. Ha! I can beat any Benevento witch. Watch out! Here comes Dima.

  She cackled like the old witch she was, though Dima walked with her hips swinging and her firm breasts straining at her tight sweater. She smiled at the wolf whistles and allowed the handsomest young man to carry her trunk to the train station.

  Dima brushed off his advances and waited for the train that would take her to Benevento.

  She boarded the train and brooded at the remembrances of everyone she had met in Pompeii. The residents had all been rude to her because she was not Italian.

  Dima pointed her fingers at Mount Vesuvius, muttering a spell.

  She chuckled at the rumbles coming from the volcano.

  She did not have the power to cause the volcano to erupt, but the rumbles would make the Pompeiians crap in their underwear.

  The train slowly rolled out of the train station. Dima ignored the 17 whining cats who hopped one their sides around the floor of the private train. The cats could smell the cat-owl creature on her that Dima planned to shift into for Summer Solstice which was still a week away. Dima was nervous and so she shifted a bit here and a tad there, growing a few feathers on her arms and cheeks.

  Benevento was a short train ride, some 59 miles northeast of Pompeii.

  The train traveled north through Naples and Pompeii faded from her view. Dima sighed with remembrance. I liked living in Pompeii, a place older than me. I felt young there when I was my true self.

  Dima watched the passing scenery until her chin fell to her chest and she snored.

  The train rolled into the Benevento station on time. Benevento was on a hill. Like a lot of Italian towns, Benevento had a cathedral, a castle, and the remains of an ancient Roman amphitheater. The Romans conquered the area in the 3rd B.C. and changed its name from Malevento to Benevento, from bad event to good event. Benevento was at three crossroads: the Appi
an Way and where the Sabato and Calore rivers met. The Roman goddess Diana Trivia, whose name meant Three Roads, was goddess of witchcraft and sorcery. Diana was the protector of witches and Benevento came to be known as the witch city.

  Dima stretched her arms and yawned. She arrived in Benevento at dusk on June 15th. She had a week to settle in before Summer Solstice.

  After checking into a hotel, she picked up a man, mostly because she felt bored and lonely. A sailor interested her because she had never seen an American before. He was wild and fun to be with.

  Chapter 8

  WITCHES SABBATHS ALWAYS BEGAN AT MIDNIGHT, THE TIME WHEN TWO WORLDS AND TWO DIMENSIONS INTERCEPTED, THE WORLD OF ORDINARY PEOPLE AND THE WORLD OF SUPERNATURAL BEINGS, A TIME KNOWN AS THE WITCHING HOUR. Summer Solstice was on the 22nd this year.

  Dima had gone to the bathroom more than usual to urinate. She figured it was nerves because tonight she would crash the party of witches. Not crash, she thought. I have learned to fly well.

  Dima now sat on the bed in the hotel room and watched the clock.

  The 17 cats, also, sat keeping time. The cats meowed in chorus each time the minute hand went by.

  “Shut up,” Dima mumbled. “The time will pass slowly if you meow away the minutes. Wake me at 11:00 p.m. so that I can get ready for the festivities.”

  While Dima napped, the cats opened their mouths every 15 minutes, meowing silently.

  The cats all meowed loudly at 11:00 p.m. The guest next door to Dima banged on the wall.

  Dima sat up and tapped her lips with a finger and the cats stopped meowing.

  She pulled the enchanted mirror from the trunk. The mirror was seven inches in size and the handle was six inches long.

  In the bottom half of the mirror, Dima could see the reflection of Catherine the Great fading in and out of the mirror. Catherine wore the Great Imperial Crown upon her dark hair. In one hand she held a scepter and in the other hand an orb.

  Well, enough of a dead relative. Dima had enchanted Catherine’s hand mirror into a Looking-Glass-of-Time in order to learn more about the Walnut Witches, one of the oldest and most powerful sects of magic practitioners in the world. Fog swirled about the mirror as it displayed the history of the witches of Benevento. The past began with Roman times and the Cult of Isis, Egyptian goddess of the moon. The Cult of Isis rapidly spread in Benevento and the emperor Domitian even built a temple in her honor in the 1st century AD. Members of the Cult of Isis enchanted the walnut tree of Benevento. Dima surmised a lot of this information based on her own knowledge of the Cult of Isis. The Looking-Glass-of-Time was the same as watching the past come to life, but a silent past. The timepiece was after all, a mirror but instead of showing one’s reflection, it displayed a moment in time, or moments. The scenes in the Looking-Glass-of-Time reminded Dima of the Italian cinema. While in Pompeii she had watched the film Lucrezia Borgia, about a beautiful young woman who was the bastard daughter of a Catholic pope. Dima could relate and although the film was silent, she was able to follow the story, just as she was able to follow the past events shown in the Looking-Glass-of-Time.