4. The necklace

During all the happenings in the bar, that Bubba and his group had no knowledge of, the bikers helped Bubba to his feet again. They managed to get the rope off the collar, but the collar itself seemed determined to stay put, no matter hard they yanked at it.

"I'm gonna kill that bitch," Bubba fumed, "but not today! To the bikes!"

Great was their dismay when they saw their precious motorcycles laying on the street, but their fear of the grey-haired woman in the bar was still larger than their desire for retribution, so they picked up their machines.

As Bubba was engaged in that, he saw something on the sidewalk. It was a necklace, and it looked fancy. "Hey babe, get your ass over here," he barked at his sweetheart, who to the rest was known simply as Angel. Bubba picked up the necklace. "Here. Got you a present. Put it on and get on the bike."

With all of them seated, they fired up, and with squealing tires and roaring engines, they raced out of the street and a few minutes later they disappeared from the town. For now.

Hilda came out of the bar and saw the last motorcycle turn around a corner. She nodded, understanding that the strange two-wheeled machines and the big men were connected. "Hmmm," was all she said. She walked through the street, that still was void of other life as the inhabitants of the homes were not sure yet that the bikers had gone.

After a while she found a small park with a bench, where she sat down. She opened the bag and looked inside it. Somewhat disturbed, she looked again. "Vomotio torquis," she mumbled, but nothing happened. She repeated the command, now with more urge, but the result was similar. "Come on, throw up the necklace, damn you," she mumbled somewhat louder. Again nothing happened. "I hate Latin," she shared with the bag.

Hilda got up, laid out the bag on the bench and swirled her wand over it. The bag turned back into the clothes she had worn on arriving in this insane place. Quickly she went through the things, but did not find the necklace. A new stream of Latin, most words not available in any bible, flowed from her lips.

"Hey, got a problem?", a young man wearing a cap and chewing gum asked. He had been walking through the park, shortcutting to the place of some friends. Curiously he peeked at the things on the bench.

"Go away." Hilda was not in the mood for friendliness. Never was. Especially not now.

"Hey, I'm just trying to be friendly, you know," the young man muttered, shrugging. He walked on, whistling a tune very out of tune.

Hilda's eyes became slits as she pointed the wand at the back of the man. "Why bother," she then grumbled. She turned her clothes back into the shoulderbag and sat down on the bench again. "Necklace. Where is it. I must have it." These three short sentences kept churning in her mind. The necklace was her source of real power. That would be able to tell her how to get back to the real world, and then she would be able to get rid of the obnoxious black-haired girl with her friendly face, her songs and her manners.

The only place where it could be, if not in the bag, was in the alleyway where she had arrived here. Hilda got up and followed her route back, past the bar where a number of voices inside mumbled over the sound of the bouncer, then she passed the bookstore that still was closed. Wand in hand, she started looking for the necklace. It somehow worried her slightly that the wand did not immediately pull her towards it. Maybe it had flown away a bit further into the alley...

Hilda went deeper into the small sidestreet, the light of day disappearing rapidly as she progressed. Her wand lit up the space, but there was no tugging in her wrist that pointed out that the necklace was near. "Where are you? Necklace, where are you?" Hilda forced friendliness into her voice. If she did not, the necklace would never respond. "Hello, necklace?"

But no matter how friendly she spoke, how pleading her words, the necklace was and remained silent. She walked back to the main street, where the alley began.

"Desidero torquis," she said, moving the wand about slowly as if she was dowsing. There had to be a sign, she knew it. The necklace had been around her neck when she came here, it had gotten lost here, so there had to be a trace.

A pair of ladies came walking down the street and saw Hilda. "Are you looking for something?", one of them asked.

Hilda shot upright. "My necklace. Do you have it?" Her tone was sharper than she had wanted.

The two women backed up a few steps. "My, my, touchy, aren't we? No, we don't have your necklace. What did it look like? Maybe we can help you find it."

"Are you witches?"

One woman's eyes became wide. "The nerve!" She grabbed her friend by the arm and rapidly walked past this strange woman who was clearly out of the most necessary of marbles.

Hilda felt hurt by that. She folded her arms over her chest and looked at the two women walking off. A single thought later, the high heels under the shoes of the woman who had been appaled broke. The collapse was accompanied by a scream and a falling woman.

"No one's going to fuck with me, here. They'd better know it."

Hilda went back to her searching, and this time there was the slightest tremble. She went down on her knees, scanning the floor. Yes, it was certain. The necklace had been here. It had rested here, on the ground. But where was it now? A cold shudder ran across her spine as she looked at the road, seeing the scratchmarks where the motorcycles had been.

"Oh no," she moaned, seriously despairing for a moment. "They did not take my necklace. They didn't. They shouldn't." Lying on elbows and knees, her forehead resting on the concrete, she sighed and let the bad feeling take over for a while. It would feed her anger and give her the power needed to go after the gang.

An elderly man with the features of an ancient mage, stopped near her. "Are you not well, child?"

Hilda sat on the ground and looked at him. "I'm okay. I lost my necklace. Now I need a crystal ball and a broom."

The old man frowned. "I would not know where to purchase a crystal ball. But down the street, on your left, there's a supermarket that has excellent brooms. My wife gets hers there, and she's very satisfied with them."

Hilda felt a kindred spirit. "Your wife... is she... magical?" She used the word with care. Perhaps this man was as much the mage as he appeared, and she knew better than to mess with ancient mages. They could whoop her ass and make no fuss about it.

"Oh yes," the old man smiled. "She's been magical from the first moment we met. She's my witch and will remain mine."

"Oh, I believe you, ancient one," Hilda said respectfully.

"Ancient one?" The man smiled. "Not many people call me that. I do like the sound of it though. It's much better than old fart." He chuckled. "So, for the broom you find the supermarket. Maybe someone there knows about the ball too. Take care now." He nodded and walked off, flipping his cane.

Hilda watched as the man left. He had to be one hell of a sorcerer if he could wield a magic staff like that. Then she got to her feet, picked up her wand and shoulderbag and started off into the direction the ancient one had pointed out. To the 'supermarket'.

It did not take her long to get there: her new long legs carried her rapidly. She arrived at a large building, with giant glass windows. Oh, if only she could have a magical mirror the size of that, Hilda thought, she'd be the envy of every witch in the world. She stared at the goods that were on display behind the window, wondered about the function of many of them. She then wondered if this was the proper place, or if the ancient one was pulling a prank on her. She looked at the large colourful sign over the glass. It did say 'supermarket'. She found a door, also made of glass, was stunned at how it opened by itself (powerful magic, undoubtedly the work of the ancient one), and went inside the store.

The store proved to be a maze. Aisle after aisle with products on long metal shelves. Lights from long white tubes instead of candles. It confused Hilda. In the end she just grabbed someone by the coat, showed her wand and said: "Take me to the brooms."

The man who fell victim to the witch was under her spell instantly. He nodded and in rather a mindless state he walked her to the section of household materials.

"Where are the brooms?", Hilda asked, looking around at the objects assembled.

"These are the brooms," the man said. He pointed at the long coloured sticks, the coloured bristles.

Hilda's eyes became slits again. This could not be true. Witches of this place would ride on that?! "Be serious. I want a proper broom."

Despite her wanting something a bit more traditional, the man took one of the colourful things and handed it to her. "This is a proper broom, my lady."

"How can this be? It isn't even made of wood!", Hilda cried out, attracting the attention of several employees.

"Is there a problem?", a girl from the store asked.

"Yes. This man is under my spell, and yet he tells me that this is a proper broom." Hilda held the broom in front of the girl's face.

"Well, he's right. That is a broom." The girl wondered what had gotten into this woman. "I know. I work here and I have one of those. They're great." It would never hurt to advertise the merchandise.

"So you have one of them." Hilda eyed the girl and asked her wand if the girl was telling the truth. The wand confirmed that. "Good. I believe you. Then now I need a crystal ball." She pushed the man away and waited for the girl.

"Crystal? We don't carry crystal, ma'am. But we have some nice glass ones!"

"It has to be crystal. Glass does not work. Don't you know that?" Hilda became impatient. She got impatient rather quickly, most of the time. This time it was very quickly. She had to go after her necklace.

The shop assistant looked confused now. "Our glass ones work," she tried.

"I don't think so. Tell me where there is a shop that has crystal balls and I will go there at once," Hilda said, her wand swaying, rendering the girl's resistance to zero.

"I'll take you to it," the girl said, and started walking to the exit.

As they left the store, the theft-alarm started beeping, but it was no match for the wand. The beeping stopped, and after some minutes so did the smoke.

Hilda and the girl had been walking for more than five minutes. Twice they had been interrupted by someone from the store, who demanded that the girl would return to her work and the broom should be paid for, but these two had proven to be only minor nuissances.

"How far is that place with the crystal?", Hilda asked.

"About half an hour," the girl said, "as I don't have a car. Unless you want to call a cab."

"A car. Yes. I have seen one of those," said Hilda. "They are not trustworthy. We'll fly instead." She mounted the broom. "Sit in front of me."

The girl, even while under a spell, stared at the witch. "You're kidding me."

"Sit In Front Of Me!" Hilda's voice became irresistable. The girl mounted the broom also, in front of Hilda. They drew quite some attention, as the street where they were was rather a busy one. People stopped and stared at what funny thing was going to come next.

"What kind of retarded place is this," Hilda muttered. "Never seen a witch in your life?" Angered with all the attention she threw an invisibility spell and then made the broom lift off. "Speak where the place with the crystal balls is, girl," she then commanded.

The girl, terrified and holding on to the broom, stammered an address.

The broom made a sharp turn and headed up and over the roofs of buildings, high over the streets and the bustling traffic. Unseen.

"We are flying," she then remarked.

"Yes. Of course we're flying. What else did you think I'd want a broom for? Sweeping?" Scorn dripped from every single word.