Undying Witch Page 5

  He shrugged his shoulders. “It is all I have. I have no fresh ears. That should have been thrown out with the garbage yesterday.”

  Dima paid for the ear, unlocked the shop door, and then left with her purchase.

  There was now a line to get into the butcher shop. Dima shrugged her shoulders and said loudly so that even invisible ears could hear, “What can I tell you? The door was stuck so you all had to wait out here.”

  She opened her package and stuffed her mouth with pork rinds on her walk back to the hotel.

  She stopped at the entrance to the hotel and gasped at a pile of newspapers blasting the headline: GRAND DUCHESS ELISABETH FYODOROVNA EXECUTED!

  The nun! Oh, my God, they have murdered the Romanoff nun. I must not react. They are watching me.

  Quick, she walked through the hotel lobby, locked the door to the room, and ordered the cats, “Keep an eye out and if the door knob moves, scream as loud as you can.”

  The 17 cats plopped down before the door, watching the door knob.

  Dima plopped down on the bed. She stared down at the newspaper and the photograph of burnt bodies lying in a mine.

  The cats meowed and she jumped.

  Did the door knob move?

  Was she indeed alone with only the cats to keep her company?

  The cats washed their faces.

  Dima sighed with relief. No one hypnotized the cats. Nevertheless, she wondered what the Walnut Witches were up to. The problem with the Looking-Glass-of-Time was that there was no audio. It was after all a mirror, which is why she had made a trip to the butcher.

  Dima flicked her fingers through the pages of the Key of Solomon. Ah, there it was—a spell to hear with a hog’s ear.

  She muttered a spell over the dried, pig’s ear that was multi-colored with different stages of decay and the ends curling.

  There was a sound like waves crashing in a cave, and the ear fluttered.

  The enchanted ear straightened and turned pink and healthy-looking. The hairs on the ear moved like antennas listening for the slightest sound.

  Dima took out the Looking-Glass-of-Time. “Show me Gianna, head of the Walnut Witches,” she said to the top-half of the mirror which would show her the present.

  Fog swept the glass and when it cleared Gianna stood in a basement with five other witches. They were stirring a big black pot, making Strega Liqueur. The recipe was on a table and a safe was open. Dima assumed that the witches kept the Strega recipe in the safe.

  Dima held the hairy sow’s ear to her lips. Though swine could not see well, their sensitive hearing more than made up for their poor sight. With this ear, I can now hear what goes on when I view the present. She spoke into the ear, “Oh, Master Hog of pork aplenty, listen to what the enchanted mirror has to say.”

  The pointed end of the ear rotated to the mirror.

  She held the pig’s ear up to her own ear and listened to the witches speak as though through a tunnel.

  The witches were discussing Dima and the initials and jeweled crown on her trunk.

  “Well how did a peasant like her get hold of Catherine the Great’s trunk?” Gianna asked.

  “A Russian I once slept with told me that the empress had an illegitimate granddaughter who was still alive,” Gianna’s sister said.

  “But if Dima is this bastard Romanoff, that would mean that she is nearly 100 years old,” Gianna said. “Could her magic be that strong?”

  The witch who had apparently broken into Dima’s room said, “There was an aura coming from the trunk. Something powerful is in there.”

  “If Dima is a Romanov bastard then Vladimir Lenin, head of the new Soviet Russia, might pay us good money for her return,” the sister added.

  “Without her trunk, of course,” another witch added.

  “Well, what should her ransom be?” Gianna asked.

  The witches all looked at each other.

  “She would be valuable to the Bolsheviks,” the sister said. “The tsar and his family were executed by a firing squad. The next day, Bolsheviks killed four princes, a grand duke, and a grand duchess who became a nun. All of them, including the nun, were Romanovs.”

  One of the witches giggled and said, “It took a lot of murder to kill the royal Romanoffs who were with the nun. The Bolsheviks first beat and then threw their captives into a mine shaft 66-feet deep. The Bolsheviks then tossed two hand grenades into the mine and still those royal Romanovs did not all die. Finally, the Cheka set the mineshaft on fire.”

  Gianna smiled. “Well, we shall have to be friendlier to this Dima. She could be worth her weight in gold.”

  The witches all purred.

  Gianna lifted a spoon from the pot and they all tasted a few drops, purring once more. The liquor known as ‘The Witch’ was their most lucrative business. From what Dima could see of the recipe, it was rather complex, which was probably the reason none of the witches had memorized the recipe.

  Dima set the hog’s ear down with a trembling finger.

  Fog covered the mirror.

  Dima unfolded the paper the sailor left behind. He bragged that America was filled with riches.

  She pronounced the name slowly, “pro-hi-bi-tion.”

  In America, Dima would be an ocean away from Russia and the Bolsheviks.

  She ordered the cats to pack because, “We are going on a long voyage.”

  One by one, the cats grabbed an item of clothing and dragged it over to the trunk.

  Dima opened the Starostavne Book of Conjuring Magic that had an image of spirits rising on the cover. “There must be a spell here to conjure an inhuman,” she muttered.

  Chapter 10

  DIMA WAITED UNTIL DARK AND THEN SHE TURNED INTO HER FAMILIAR, A SNOWY OWL. She carried a bag in her beak which contained a cup and a coffee can.

  Dima landed on the banks of the Sabato River where the three crossroads meant, the place where the magical walnut tree had stood for Summer Solstice.

  Dima muttered a spell from the conjuring book, and the ground shook. Roots shot up from the ground and the enchanted walnut tree, destroyed centuries ago by Bishop Barbatus, once more stood tall with its translucent leaves waving with the breeze.

  She recited an incantation and the tree bore fruit.

  Dima reached up and picked some walnuts. She filled the cup with water from the river and removed the husks of each walnut, dropping each walnut into the cup of water. She continued in this fashion, discarding the walnuts which floated to the top of the cup and keeping three other walnuts, which sunk to the bottom of the cup.

  Dima filled the coffee can with the three walnuts and some dirt and moss from beneath the tree. She placed a cold spell on the coffee can to just above freezing temperature in order to stratify the walnuts for future planting.

  Dima then recited a reverse conjuring spell, thereby making the tree vanish.

  She turned back into an owl and picked up with her beak the bag containing the coffee can. She then flew back to the hotel where she stored the coffee can in her trunk.

  Dima fed Pompeii some metal filings, which the rock sucked up greedily.

  She cooed to the rock and clutched Pompeii in her fist as she spun, imagining a large man with bulging muscles.

  She looked in the mirror and laughed. Instead of the young Dima, a burly man glared back from the mirror.

  She snarled at her reflection. “That’s the spirit. You are ready to tear the arms and limbs from any who get in your way. You have the strength of ten horses.”

  Disguised as a man, she resembled an Italian opera singer. She opened her mouth wide and belted out O Sole Mio, a song about a sunny day and the sun belonging to her. However, it was night time.

  Dima walked out of the hotel knowing that any witches who were watching her would not recognize the big, ugly, bald man who needed a shave. Dima forgot to remove her necklace and earrings. She failed to notice an old woman standing on the corner. The woman looked at her rather strangely because here was Dima, disguised as a
man, hefty crotch, and all, wearing an elaborate, cheap, fake emerald necklace and bracelet.

  Dima borrowed a car which someone had left parked in front of the hotel. She drove to the hideaway of the Walnut Witches. She had, also, followed a witch or two and discovered where the basement was with the safe that held the Strega recipe.

  It was dark and Dima parked a short distance from the headquarters of the Walnut Witches. She dressed all in black like a cat burglar, more like a lion burglar since she disguised herself

  as a muscle man.

  Dima crushed the lock with her bare hand.

  She quietly opened the door and tiptoed over to the safe.

  She literally ripped the door open.

  She reached in her hand and took the recipe, shoving it in her pants pocket.

  Tearing the door off a safe made a lot of noise.

  The witches came running from upstairs and chased after Dima who had crawled out the basement window.

  The muscle man was strong but moved slowly.

  Quick, Dima spun with Pompeii glowing from her hand and turned from the muscular man, into her true self.

  “The hag has a shapeshifting stone!” they all screamed.

  Some of the witches, their skin turned green.

  Dima said the magic words and transformed into her familiar, the snowy owl. She carried the recipe in her beak, flying overhead and circling the witches in triumph.

  “You dare talk of turning me into the Bolsheviks, when I’ve come to you in peace and friendship,” Dima said. She was a tad hard to understand since she spoke English but with a bird-like voice that was a bit of a caw and a bit of a chirpy sound.

  “Get her!” the High Witch shouted.

  Dima had a head start on most of the witches who needed the magic unguent in order to fly. However, two of the witches had come prepared and slapped some unguent under their arms, quickly taking flight.

  The two witches flew after Dima

  One reached out a hand and tried to grab Pompeii.

  The stone zapped the witch and she went whirling to the ground.

  The other witch succeeded in placing her hand on Pompeii.

  The rock glowed a fiery red and burned her.

  Smoke hissed from her hand and she screamed, spinning in mid-air.

  Dima had not eaten and she fought the urge of an owl’s nature to dive for a squirrel down below.

  She instead, concentrated, flying in the direction of the hotel.

  After about ten minutes, she landed on the hotel roof and turned back into her younger self. With panting breath, she took the steps to her room.

  The cats had packed and were waiting for her.

  “We must hurry,” she said, sitting on the trunk to close it. She cursed the need to borrow another car.

  Dima turned off the lights from force of habit. She sighed as she locked up the hotel room for the very last time.

  “We are fleeing to America,” she told the cats.

  The cats sensed the urgency to hurry and ran down the stairs.

  The trunk went bumpity bump down the stairs.

  At least now, Dima had a plan, but where would she find a ship? Perhaps the coast of Naples?

  Chapter 11

  DIMA BORROWED A BEAT-UP CAR BECAUSE THE HELL-ON-WHEELS WAS ALL SHE COULD STEAL THIS TIME OF NIGHT. She threw her trunk into the trunk of the car. She climbed behind the driver’s seat.

  Dima rested her head on the steering wheel. The shifting, the stress of thievery, and the fighting with so many powerful witches made her feel exhausted.

  “I thought they would kill me, especially when the High Witch took out a bow and shot an arrow into the air. Luckily, I saw her and lifted my wings, soaring higher towards the moon.” an arrow

  The cats appeared impressed by her besting a pack of witches.

  Dima started the ignition.

  One cat rode on the dashboard and another by the back window. The other cats were on the floorboards and the seats. Vodka rode in her lap. Gypsy tried to ride on the steering wheel but Dima lifted him by his grey neck and threw him on the back seat where he scratched another cat just because he was bigger. Pompeii, of course, had the honor of riding up front on the passenger seat. The rock bounced as the car hit a few bumps.

  “The owner of this contraption should buy some Westinghouse shocks for his car.” Dima assumed the vehicle belonged to a man since very few women drove and certainly not in a macho country like Italy.

  Dima drove with her arm out the window and her middle finger pointing behind her. “Take that, Benevento!”

  Dima was running away, but from witches this time instead of monks. She was a fast, reckless car driver who lived most of her life during the horse and buggy period. Dima’s was 75 years old with faded eyesight when Russia manufactured the country’s first petrol-engine automobile. No one ever taught Dima how to drive but she was observant. This was her first time behind the wheel of a car. The cats held on with their claws, screeching. Pompeii would have probably hurled through the window and landed in France if the passenger window had been open.

  Dima drove west towards the outskirts of Benevento. She danced the car across the road, towards the coast

  “So whatcha think, Pompeii? Are you looking forward to America?”

  Of course, the rock could not speak any language but it did make its feelings known by noises and expressions. Pompeii had the gift of becoming fluid since a volcano formed the rock. Pompeii now turned on a bit of heat and melted its, uh, forehead into a frown. It made a noise sounding like a fart.

  “Yes, we will need to learn so speak in English,” she said in Italian.

  In answer, the rock snored, glowing pink with each sulfur stink coming from the hole in the rock which gave off a little steam. Pompeii had the stench of rotten eggs.

  The road was bumpy and Dima’s first mistake was to drive slower so as not to wake the precious shapeshifting stone.

  Dima finally reached the coast of Naples.

  Her second mistake, however, was to stop at Torre del Greco, a commune in Naples famous for its fabulous coral.

  Dima never could resist jewelry and she shopped for a necklace, and a ring, and a bracelet.

  Satisfied with her bargaining, Dima continued her drive towards the gulf.

  She grinned at Pompeii. The rock was happy since Dima sprayed it with water.

  There were some small boats docked at the coast.

  “Well, Pompeii, should we turn right and try to find a ship in the Gulf of Naples?”

  The rock simply snored.

  Something landed on the roof of the car and Dima screamed at a woman’s face on the front windshield. She was one of the Walnut Witches.

  Another witch latched onto the hood and another sat on the trunk of the car. A couple of witches pounded their boots on the trunk and hood, sounding as if they were dancing.

  A few others lay on the roof of the car and punched at the windows with hammers.

  Dima had always been impetuous and often acted without thinking. Her third mistake was to jerk the car over to the side of the road, knocking three of the witches off the trunk of the car.

  Dima grabbed Pompeii, climbed out of the car, and slammed the door on the fingers of the High Witch who growled and snapped her teeth at Dima.

  The windows were busted and the cats all exited the car, biting and scratching at the witches.

  Quick, Dima opened the car trunk, grabbed her trunk, and threw it in the water. She ordered the cats to jump in and guard the trunk.

  The cats dived into the gulf and climbed on top of the trunk, hissing at the witches. The cats flexed their claws, scratching at a few witches who bobbed above them in the air on their brooms.

  Both witches fell into the gulf and quickly got to shore since it was apparent that neither could swim. However, the waves the witches made caused the trunk to move into deeper water.

  Dima threw the shapeshifting stone into the water where it turned into a piece of driftwood floating gen
tly in the gulf.

  Two witches dived into the water and grabbed at the driftwood.

  Pompeii electrocuted both and they floated dead in the Gulf of Naples. Their hair fanned out and fish nibbled on their cheeks.

  Even with the help of the cats, there were too many witches against Dima. Besides, the trunk was in the gulf floating further away, and the 17 cats were on top of the trunk meowing like kittens for their mother.

  The witches surrounded Dima, growling, and cussing at her.

  “Open this door,” the High Witch screamed. “My fingers!”

  One of the witches opened the car door only to get a slap for her thanks.

  The High Witch then marched over to Dima and smacked her across the head. “Where is the recipe for Strega?”

  “In my trunk,” Dima said and smiled prettily. She felt pretty good about herself since she managed to stay in the form of her younger self even with simmering anger about her and the danger the witches posed. It was bad enough she stole from them their most lucrative prize, but the witches would have her head for possession of the shapeshifting stone.

  “I would give you my shapeshifting stone,” Dima lied, “but as you can see, the rock decides who he wants for his partner. He and I are in love,” she said and chuckled.

  “Well, you can join your lover in the gulf then,” the High Witch said like it was an order.

  Dima was laughing while they tied rocks to her ankles to weigh her down. They bound her wrists with rope.

  Four witches lifted Dima and carried her to the water.

  “She looks like a rolled-up rug, a cheap one,” the High Witch observed.

  The witches flung Dima into the Gulf of Naples.

  “There is nothing more for us here. The shapeshifting stone is lost in the gulf at Ercolana,” the High Witch lamented. “In any case, Dima is right. The stone will kill whoever touches it, just like it did our dear sister Arlina. Come. Let us take flight and return home. We have had our revenge. Dima is lost in the darkness of the ocean.”

  Dima’s eyes showed above the water and she watched by the light of the moon the witches soar into the sky, headed east.