Abagail slowly opened the medium meeting room door and peered inside. Rupert stood beside a seated Astar, who was holding Tibbar rabbit.

  “Where the blazes were you, Rupert!” accused Abagail with spite.

  “We did not know,” replied Rupert, still wearing his wizard’s cloak. “Sorry we were late… Heather had a Scutum over this room.”

  Abagail took two steps inside and folded her arms tightly across her chest, waiting for an explanation.

  “A what?” frowned Abagail, falling into her chair. She grabbed a fistful of incense sticks and lit eight at once.

  “A spell… we couldn’t see you until you were in the woods,” said Tibbar.

  “Then I could enter your body and bring you back here,” sighed Astar.

  “You’re safe now,” said Rupert quietly.

  Abagail placed her hands over her face.

  “She had me. She held me with Wilbur. I was powerless. Her slave. My goodness, poor, poor Rupert. I don’t like this one bit. I saw images of us together of which I cannot talk. Like a consummated ritual.”

  “We don’t like what she did either,” said Astar. “Her return is news to us. Her old powers have been replaced. She is most powerful.”

  “No kidding,” scowled Abagail, grabbing a widget off the table and spinning it in her hands.

  “We’re uncertain… perhaps she intends Abagail’s marriage to Wilbur,” suggested Astar to Rupert.

  Rupert nodded.

  “Hmmm,” grunted Abagail. “Not likely.”

  “Well, none of this is a possibility of course, since you wouldn’t want this to happen…” Rupert lifted his face higher and looked down on Abagail. He watched her for a moment. He read her mind. “There’s a part of you that wants this… I see it in your eyes. You would marry him.”

  “Not like this, though,” frowned Abagail. “Yes, I do have feelings for Wilbur.”

  “A crush?” asked Rupert.

  “Yes,” admitted Abagail sadly. “But by his own free will.”

  “Unfortunately for poor, poor, poor Wilbur, Heather has returned,” said Tibbar. “Possibly to change more. We cannot rescue a man who is not ready to be saved. The time is not right. Not right at all.”

  “You must be careful, young lady,” said Rupert earnestly. “If you go with Wilbur of your own free will, there is nothing we can do.”

  “I sense a change in the air,” said Astar dramatically.

  “Yes,” agreed Tibbar. “Yes, a change, a change. I sense it too.”

  “What change?” asked Abagail, unsure. “Is she coming back? Please keep her away.” Abagail winced.

  “No, no, no, Abagail. Heather is not coming back,” explained Rupert, placing his hands out to her.

  “Ah… that’s good,” said Abagail with a grumble.

  “For now,” decided Rupert.

  Abagail looked shocked.

  *

  Wilbur sat in his chair looking at the suitcase on the loungeroom floor.

  “Perhaps I was too hard on you today, darling sweet sweet,” murmured Heather.

  Wilbur spun about to see Heather standing beside his bed, her cloak concealing her.

  “You’ve grown stronger!” said Wilbur, rubbing his chin, instantly returning to a state of anxiety.

  “Many things are different about me now, darling sweet sweet. I am about to change even more… watch… watch… the time is RIGHT!” she screamed.

  “Ahhhh!”

  Wilbur was mesmerized as a dark, sparkling, swirling light lit the doll in intense brightness. Two pillars of dark feathers shook violently on either side. The noise echoed through the room, smashing glasses and removing pictures from hooks and displacing books to the floor.

  With his eyes temporarily blinded, Wilbur saw snapped images of a small woman within the swirling, spiraling mass of colour. Her silhouetted figure was far removed from the tiny two-foot-tall doll standing there previously. A loud dull thud exploded in a pop. Wilbur was thrown to the floor. Windows cracked, walls shook.

  As the room slowly returned to normal—save for the light—standing where the doll had been was a beautiful dark-haired woman.

  “I am… free… once again.”

  Heather could see it in Wilbur’s expression. A certain fear.

  “You approve of my magic, my darling sweet sweet. No need to sit me on your lap for shows anymore.”

  “Heather?” gasped Wilbur. “How on Earth did you do that?”

  “Not on Earth, Wilbur. Five hundred years trapped within the curse of a doll. However…”

  Heather stretched her arm high, flung her legs out high one after the other, tilted her head from side to side, then spun around many times to crouch perfectly still.

  “I am eternal, my dear sweet Wilbur.”

  She leapt up and landed with her arms arrogantly on her hips.

  Frightened, Wilbur watched as this stunning woman strode over in steps as though in a slow dance. Crouching then rising. Crouching then rising. She circled Wilbur, watching his reactions to her new presence. Her arms always flew just past his face, threatening to make contact. Her kicks were even more alarming. Bone-breakers.

  Wilbur was fascinated by her white dress with red and black polka dots, covered by a black cloak with gold trim. The small woman grabbed Wilbur around his waist, her eyes no higher than his chest.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  “You like?” she enquired, slightly in a hiss. Her eyes enchanting and penetrating.

  “Yes,” admitted Wilbur. “Such magic, such beauty is surely not of this world.”

  “Te he he he he he he,” she smirked. “Mine without the curse.”

  She danced around Wilbur playfully.

  “Mine without the trance…”

  She leapt high into the air and floated down like a snowflake towards Wilbur.

  “Once upon a time… mine all… mine!”

  Wilbur stretched his arms up as she fell slowly into his outstretched arms. He grasped her waist and pulled her to him. She laughed as Wilbur began to passionately kiss at her mouth and cheeks, moving her head away in pleasure at the successful outcome of her game of captured, unbridled desire.

  Heather had arrived.

  *

  The next day, Abagail spat out her coffee in terror as Wilbur Warburton walked into Spiritual Gifts, accompanied by a woman in a dark cloak. Abagail froze with a Wizards and Witches T-shirt in her hand.

  “Rupert!” mumbled Abagail in a squeak.

  Abagail’s phone rang. She finally realized it could be Rupert and quickly answered it.

  “Rupert?”

  “Yes, I’m here. I’m watching. If there’s any trouble I’ll be there post-haste.”

  Rupert hung up.

  “Good morning, Abagail,” smiled Wilbur, dressed in a long black-sleeved shirt, slacks and brown shoes.

  Abagail passed a brief eye over the cloaked woman. Wilbur held no briefcase and looked calm and relaxed. Wilbur looked suddenly embarrassed.

  Abagail watched Clare helping a young couple with gardening seeds, then motioned for Wilbur and his friend to join her out back.

  Abagail unlocked the medium room and they ambled in together. No offer of tea.

  Abagail cleared her throat and looked annoyed with Wilbur. His happy disposition melted away any concern she held for his well-being overnight. Wilbur gave the other chair to his friend and pulled up a tiny three-legged stool.

  “I’m glad you haven’t brought that doll with you again,” said Abagail, frowning. “Has it gone?”

  “Ah… yes, well… no doll anymore.” He smiled. “Yes, the doll has gone.”

  Abagail quickly looked again at the cloaked woman with her head down, listening.

  “Should we talk in front of your friend of this?” asked Abagail, taking a sip of her tea.

  “She knows all about it,” said Wilbur with a smile, unable to contain his happiness.

  Abagail looked disappointed in Wilbur. Obviously Wilbur was a tell-all Tom.

  “Mhmm,” grunted Abagail. “I’m still in shock. Though… I am here to help you, Wilbur. If you need any assistance with Heather, if she comes back, you must tell me immediately. Poor Wilbur… you must be drained from her powers of command. What should you do? That doll is evil.”

  Wilbur stopped and looked at his cloaked friend.

  She sat straighter and slowly removed her hood. Two drapes of dark hair, once released, fell perfectly into shape. Her commanding brown eyes intensely settled on Abagail’s stunned expression. The air hung heavier in the room, her eyes revealing a certain madness which faded to tranquility. A curled smile with power of the ages told Abagail to be careful. It wasn’t a threat, it was a warning.

  Abagail finally noticed her cream dress. Red and white polka dots. It reminded her of the dress Heather the doll had been wearing.

  Slowly, then with alarming realisation, Abagail stood up. The dress, the face, her presence.

  “Heather!” she gasped, bringing her hands to her mouth in terror.

  “I’m not all bad, you know, sweet Abagail… evil doesn’t fit well with my persona. Though I have been giving that impression… I must apologise for my actions yesterday. I’ve been cooped up in that doll for longer than you can imagine.”

  Heather crossed her legs, leaned back and took Wilbur’s hand over her shoulder.

  “And I’m sorry for what I did to my darling sweet sweet Wilbur. In fact, Abagail, I’m here to learn… from you.”

  After a pause, Abagail asked, “About what?”

  “I need a friend. Not like Wilbur. A female friend… a girlfriend. I need to learn about what it is like to be a woman of today.”

  “You terrify me,” admitted Abagail. “How do I know this isn’t a trap?”

  “Te he he he… yes, a conundrum of the ages. Kings and queens. Holy men. Witches and wizards. Men and women of all lands once joined together have faced this simple but yet potentially catastrophic decision on a daily basis. So… dear sweet Abagail… will YOU… help me?” asked Heather, finishing with such a delivery that Abagail was speechless.

  “We both have dark hair,” smirked Heather.

  “I’m a lot taller,” quipped Abagail, trying her luck.

  “Yes,” encouraged Heather. “We both are beautiful,” continued Heather.

  “I don’t feel it today,” moaned Abagail.

  “We both have interest in spirits and death and the afterlife. Your delicate shop we sit in is filled with items of the ancient old guard. Certainly not of these chemical crusaders poisoning their patrons with dyed products like the so-called super… markets.”

  “Don’t get me started on ingredients,” replied Abagail with the smallest of smiles.

  “I’ll teach you many things, Abagail, on a one-to-one woman’s basis.”

  “I don’t know,” replied Abagail, unsure.

  Abagail looked up at Wilbur, whose face was smiling with pleasure—far from the drooling, zombie-like trance from yesterday.

  “Can I think about it… please?” added Abagail, hoping Heather would not turn her into a toad.

  “Yes,” agreed Heather.

  She stepped forward and took Abagail’s unwilling hands. Heather’s hands were cold. She looked up at Abagail.

  “When I make a promise I keep it… though I have no patience for those who lie.”

  Heather looked away, lost in a dark thought.

  There was a knock at the door as Rupert Richardson poked his head in and looked upon the scene.

  “Sorry, I hope I’m not disturbing anything?” asked Rupert.

  Rupert now looked startled at Heather’s appearance.

  “Heather, my… you’ve grown.”

  He walked in and stood beside Abagail, dressed like a cowboy in a long dark coat with a wide-brimmed hat.

  Heather let go of Abagail’s hands and smiled mischievously.

  “So… what do you think, Rupert? Was it worth the wait?” asked Heather.

  Rupert narrowed his eyes at first, then relaxed.

  “Who are you talking to?” asked Wilbur, unable to see or hear Rupert.

  “Enchanting, of course… like… Cleopatra, one might say,” smirked Rupert.

  Heather slightly bowed her head.

  “Thank you, Rupert. I was just saying to Abagail how I would like to be her friend.”

  “Well, of course one can ask of one,” said Rupert, tilting his hat slightly. “But what’s the answer? That is up to my dear friend Abagail.”

  Abagail looked happily at Rupert and sighed with relief.

  “So you’re asking me to wait for your decision,” replied Heather, her eyes narrowing. A certain impatience settled over Heather. “Well, that is that. I will wait for your decision.”

  Abagail gave Heather a shy smile and said, “I need to think,” while watching her and Wilbur head for the door to leave.

  “Very well,” replied Heather plainly.

  A certain anger rose within Abagail as she grabbed Wilbur’s arm and stopped him. She looked firmly into his eyes.

  “Are you with Heather by your own choice now, Wilbur?” asked Abagail seriously.

  Heather looked delighted in Abagail’s intervention.

  Wilbur looked at Abagail in surprise. His face dropped. He turned away.

  “Yes,” he replied.

  “Of course you are, my sweet sweet darling,” said Heather arrogantly.

  “Until later,” smiled Rupert, closing the door behind him.

  Abagail sat and slumped back into her chair. She looked up at Rupert’s questioning face.

  “Thanks for turning up. How did she turn into a woman?” asked Abagail.

  “Well… you see this crystal,” said Rupert, pulling a dark crystal from the inside of his coat pocket like a fast draw. “Not probably the best thing to do. It can provide release and see spells. And… to tell you the truth, Abagail, not that I ever lie. We wanted her out of the doll. It was not our doing. Some kind of Stranded squabble from a long time ago. Now, what say we get some lunch, hmmm?” said Rupert happily, rubbing his hands together. “This job’s over.”

  “Stop!” demanded Abagail, as Rupert reached for the door handle.

  “Hmm?” wondered Rupert.

  “Are you telling me, Rupert, that you used me to release Heather from being trapped in that spooky doll?”

  “Ahh… yes,” admitted Rupert. He turned about to face Abagail. “And… we want you to be friends with Heather.”

  “WHAT?” questioned Abagail. “You can’t be serious!!”

  “She’s not all bad… and like some wise old man once said to me… sometimes it’s better not to provoke the witch, but if you do… well, you better have a heck of a good exit plan to get yourself the hex outta there if things go awry.”

  Rupert disappeared.

  “Hey?” shouted Abagail, before peeking outside to see Clare at the cash register. “What about lunch?” she muttered dejectedly.

  Her phone buzzed with a text.

  “Tremeloes on the Mall,” read Abagail, smiling. “I love their pastas.”

  Abagail grabbed her bag and headed for the door.

  “Pay rise!” said Abagail, smiling at Clare. “Ten percent more per hour starting yesterday.”

  “Thank you, beautiful,” sang Clare.

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