Part 8 (2/2)
”That would be disappointing,” said Sir William.
Demon Baby returned, a large book tucked under his arm. He handed it to Grysh, and then took hold of her right arm with both hands and began twisting her skin back and forth, wringing out the excess water.
”Let's see,” said Grysh, thumbing through the pages. ”Transforming your enemies into saliva ... twelve ways to magically extend your tongue by a good four feet ... starting Armageddon ... putting cream in pastries without leaving tell-tale holes ... here we go: raising the dead when there isn't much left of them.”
She glanced over the entry. ”Oh, there are some definite problems here. In addition to the Necklace of Power, I'm going to need the breath of a sleeping maiden, the toenail of Jenstina the Ogre, and the legendary berserker Shreddriff himself.”
”But I don't know any more maidens,” Sir William protested.
Demon Baby began to wring out Grysh's right leg.
”Okay, the maiden's breath will turn up,” said Randall, ”but Jenstina, Shreddriff, and the necklace ... where exactly would we find them?”
Grysh shrugged.
”You have no idea?” asked Randall.
”None. You're on your own. All I can tell is that the journey to locate them will be fraught with peril, just to keep it interesting.” She tapped Demon Baby on the shoulder, then pointed to the princess clump. ”Sweep that up, and put her in the back room with the others.” Demon Baby nodded and went to get a broom.
”I'd rather not leave her here, if it's all right,” said Sir William.
”It's not.”
”I see. Well, I'd like to thank you for your help. You certainly aren't the foul crone we were expecting.”
Grysh's expression darkened. ”Ah, but I am. You don't think I'm helping you for free, do you?”
”Please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please don't ask for the wooden leg,” begged Randall.
”Do you find me attractive?” asked Grysh.
Randall began to choke on the air in his mouth. ”I hadn't really thought about it.”
”Did you know I can tie my b.r.e.a.s.t.s into a square knot?”
”That didn't come up in the description I was given.”
”I'm a real animal when I want to be.”
”With the fur to prove it,” mumbled Sir William.
Grysh gestured, and Sir William suddenly flew up into the air, smacked his head against the ceiling a few times (almost, but not quite, in the ”Shave and a Haircut” rhythm), then dropped to his original spot.
”Sorry,” he said. ”And ouch.”
The witch returned her attention to Randall. She licked her lips, then cracked her knuckles. Then she cracked the joints in her arm. Then her shoulders. Then her neck. Then the spot where her nose would have been if she had one. She bent her knees, but that came out more of a creak than a crack.
”I think we could enjoy each other's company,” she told Randall.
”That sounds ... interesting. Almost fascinating. But, you know, I'm just a lowly squire, and I don't think Sir William would approve.”
”Go for it,” said Sir William.
Randall's heart felt like it was trying to beat its way out of his chest and onto the floor. ”I'm a woefully inexperienced kisser,” he said. ”I'd probably miss your lips completely.”
”I don't have to look this way, you know,” Grysh said. She snapped her fingers, and instantly transformed into a tall, leggy, astoundingly attractive redhead.
Sir William cleared his throat. ”I don't suppose there's any way I could tactfully put myself back into the equation after that fur comment?”
”I wouldn't think so, no.”
”Just checking.”
”So, Randall,” said Grysh. ”Care to join me in my Chamber of Looooooooooove?”
”Uh-huh.”
”Good.” She looked over at Sir William. ”Stay there.” She considered for a moment, then snapped her fingers. A bright light surrounded Sir William for a moment, then faded.
”You turned him to stone!” Randall gasped.
”Plated with pewter. He won't be going anywhere. Too bad he had such a ridiculous expression on his face-otherwise I might've been able to get a good price for the statue. Follow me.”
Randall followed her around the corner into an area filled with all manner of books and reagents for spells. There were also cobwebs to add a touch of atmosphere. Demon Baby walked by, holding a broom and a new sack, and looked jealously at Randall.
”In here,” said the witch, opening a door disguised as a door-shaped stack of books with a doork.n.o.b protruding from them. She let Randall enter first, then shut the door behind them, casting them into complete darkness.
”Be careful,” she said. ”Watch out for the floor spikes. And cobras.”
”I'll just stay put.”
A soft light without a visible source began to glow at the other end of the room, illuminating the bed. A very lumpy bed that seemed to be adorned with various torture devices.
”Something's moving inside the pillows,” Randall noted.
”I like to keep the feathers as fresh as possible.”
She moved past him and sat down on the edge of the bed. She began to seductively ma.s.sage her earlobes. ”Come here,” she purred.
Randall sat down next to her. She gently placed her hand on his knee. ”Ooooooh,” she said. ”That's a nice, firm kneecap you've got there.”
”Thank you.”
”Randall, sweetie, why don't you tell me a little about yourself?”
”Well, I'm five-foot-six, twenty-two years old, brown hair, hazel eyes, and have my mother's chin.”
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