3. Hocus Pocus.

Bubba pranced around, with the witch on his shoulder. The men and the bikerbabes all laughed loudly, cheering him as he slapped her behind several times with his large free hand. "Let's give this bitch a lesson," Bubba yelled. The bulge in his pants made it obvious what kind of lesson he had in mind.

Hilda had found back to herself by then, which was unfortunate for Bubba. With a simple spell, she changed the fabric of her pants that covered her behind into a bed of sharp needles, each one covered with a rather harmless, yet very painful poison. Its effect was known to last for several days. She braced for the moment that he would drop her, which only was seconds away.

Bubba howled as his hand was pierced by the plenitude of needles. He yanked his hand free and shook Hilda off his neck. Before the witch hit the ground, she had her floating spell in place, hovered for several seconds in which she changed the needles back to denim, and drifted to the floor, feet first.

"I told you to take your hand off me, you brute," she hissed, "but you wouldn't listen! I also told you that I would make you. There's your proof." She flicked her hand, the wand appeared. "And now you back off against the wall. All of you."

Bubba missed most of her words, as his brain became enveloped by the agony in his hand. Rage grew in the few spare parts that were not yet affected by the pain and with a roar that would make a caveman shiver, he threw himself at the woman with the silver stick. His only desire was to crush her, take her apart and leave her on the floor as an example that no one should mess with Bubba. Immense was his surprise when he hung in the air, suspended, not moving. He was trashing about as if he was in water, but the action only exerted him. When finally he gave up, panting and still hanging in the air, the rest of the gang decided that it was about time to assemble near the wall that the grey haired woman had pointed at.

Hilda patiently waited until the group had moved itself. She stepped up to the floating man and gave him a gentle push, making him slowly revolve around and around. He could not stop the motion. He could do nothing at all, except watch, listen, be angry, hurt and float.

Then the witch sat down at the table, drank some more of the wine and looked at the ruffians again. "What am I going to do with you," she asked them. "I thought I could use you." Her finger traced rounds over the rim of the glass. "It looks like I was mistaken, though.

Patrick O'Malley was glad he had not fainted. From his stool, gagged and bound, he saw how the small woman toyed with the motorcycle gang as if they were mice. What a story he would have to tell. Although... who would believe him? Instead of insurance money, he suddenly thought, there would be a nice room waiting for him in the psych ward somewhere, with cushioned walls and therapy.

Bubba was getting sick of the slow rotations that he was still in. He tried to talk, but found he couldn't. The witch looked at him. "No. Not now." She smiled a sly smile.

"Who are you? What you want of us?" Julius took a risk, he knew, but he had to know.

"I am known," the witch said, "as Grimhilda. I had hopes for you. To help me get back to my own world. A world that I understand. But this...", she waved her hand across the room, "tells me that you are not the quality of material I am searching for. I'm afraid that quality is a word lost on you altogether." She shook her head, her braids flopping around slowly. Then she tucked her wand away.

"Go away. Leave me alone. I do not want to see you again, do you hear? If you cross my path once more, my wrath will be upon you!" The volume with which she was speaking had increased to an intolerable level. Everyone except Hilda clamped their hands over their ears. The bottles that had survived so far, all burst and splashed their contents to the floor. The echo of her voice only slowly ebbed away. "Now go. You have disappointed me."

Bluto was the first one to take some steps towards the door. He turned and looked at Bubba. "Coming, boss?", he asked.

Hilda snipped her fingers. A collar appeared around Bubba's neck, with a rope attached to it, as a leash. "Here. You can take him," she said as she handed the rope to Bluto.

In depressed silence, the gang left the bar called O'Malley's, Bubba sailing after them like a giant and angry balloon.

Hilda sat down at the table again, as if nothing had happened. She looked at the wine in the beerglass, and then mumbled: "That should be far enough." She wiggled her nose.

Out in the street Bubba's levitation ended with a loud thud and an even louder tirade of curses.

Hilda nodded. That was what she had aimed for. Then she looked around in the dishevelled bar and her gaze rested on Patrick O'Malley. "You are clearly not one of them," the witch said, slowly getting up and approaching the shivering man on the stool. "You're too clean. Too skinny also." Her wand appeared and Patrick's ties went away just like that.

He gasped for air as Hilda stood there, a hand on her hip, the wand in her other hand touching her cheek. "Damn, lady, can I hire you as a bouncer?", was the first thing Patrick dared to say.

Hilda let out a small sigh. "Tsk, tsk, tsk... I am so sorry. That was the wrong opening." She turned on her heel, walked to the table where her shoulderbag was waiting and picked that up.

Patrick got off the stool. "I beg your pardon?"

Hilda did not look at him, she just shook her head. "Sorry. As I said. Bouncer..." As she spoke the last word, she pointed the wand at the barkeeper, over her shoulder.

Patrick felt as if he tripped over something and fell to the floor. From which he bounced up again. And fell. And bounced up again.

"I may come and visit you again... bouncer..." Hilda said, as she walked out of the bar.