Page 53 of Sugar, Spice, and Magical Midlife

Frederica nodded. “There is only one witch that I suspect is demon possessed. Stay away from her, and you should be fine.”

Before I could ask which witch, she took out her wand, aiming it at the scale. “Do what I do,” she said. “You should get past the wards because I’m inviting you in. You must recite the spell and the password.”

I aimed my wand at the scale while clutching my son’s hand even tighter.

“Where you are now, we wish to be,” Frederica said aloud. “Where we are now, you will see. Shimmery siren scales.”

In a flash, Frederica and Puffy were gone, evaporated like smoke in the wind, and I knew she’d been sucked into the Tribunal portal.

I repeated her words, though nothing happened. I gritted my teeth, shaking my wand as if it was on fire while repeating her phrase and password. Wasn’t it ‘shimmery siren scales?’ Or maybe it had been ‘slimy siren scales?’ I shook my wand and tried again, disappointed when we didn’t move. “It’s not letting us through.”

“Des and I might need to stay behind,” Ethyl’s muffled miniature voice echoed from inside my pocket.

I gritted my teeth. “I’m not going without Des and Ethyl.”

“Let me try, Mama.”

Des clutched my hand and didn’t even repeat the phrase or password. In the next moment, we were standing inside an underground cavern in what appeared to be a boiler room with ceilings that seemed to stretch on forever before disappearing into the darkness.

Ethyl fluttered against my hip. “Holy hex! He did it!”

Frederica was there, waving me forward while Puffy flew circles around her head. It took me a moment, though, as my head was still spinning from the teleportation.

“Hide yourself,” Frederica said to Puffy. The dragon instantly went invisible, though I heard his wings flapping above us. “We need to meet back here,” Frederica explained to us. “The rest of the place is warded against teleportation, except for the main entrance, and only for those approved to leave.” She grimaced. “We can’t separate. You’ll need my permission to get you past the wards when it’s time to go.”

I didn’t bother telling her that Des had already proven we didn’t need her permission to leave. I didn’t know her well enough to trust her with my son’s secret.

I nodded my understanding as we stepped over two more sleeping robed figures and walked past the boiler room into what looked like an electrical room. We passed an open door that was as tall as an airplane hangar. Inside was the largest toilet I’d ever seen, the seat so high, I’d need a ladder to climb onto it. The smell coming from the bathroom was the most unholy stench I’d ever had the misfortune of inhaling.

Ethyl let out a groan and started gagging.

“Don’t you dare throw up in my pocket,” I warned her.

Frederica plugged her nose. “Keep going. The head janitor is a troll. That’s his bathroom.”

Made sense, considering trolls could get up to three stories tall. Jeez. I’d hate to see the septic for that toilet.

We slipped into another room, and Frederica returned with another TITS jumpsuit for Des. “Here.” She shoved it into his hands. “Put this on.”

I sucked in a breath when Des stared down at the material that reeked of heavy-duty cleaning products. Des has never been a big fan of certain fabrics, or any fabrics other than his drawstring pants and soft, cotton shirts. Seasonal transitions were exhausting, meaning he fought trading his sandals for socks and shoes, and by the time he finally got used to the socks and shoes, he fought trading them for sandals again. And don’t get me started on hats, jackets, and gloves, or sunscreen. Now a complete stranger expected him to slip into a scratchy jumpsuit?

I took it from him and got to work ripping out the tags inside, then I panicked when I saw the uneven, frayed seams going down the inside backs of the pants. Des would never go for this.

Imagine my surprise when my son took the jumpsuit from me and slipped into it without complaint.

After I helped him zip up the front, he flashed a dazzling smile. “Ready, Mama.”

I cupped his cheek and kissed his forehead. “You never cease to amaze me.”

Frederica cleared her throat. “We’re about to enter the main hall. Are you ready?”

“No,” I blurted.

“Too bad.” She handed us mops and buckets and pushed us through the door.

What I saw next nearly took my breath away. We were in the heart of what looked like the Tribunal gathering hall, a massive underground cavern. Just like the boiler room, the ceiling was so high, I couldn’t see the top that recessed into the shadows. The dark walls glowed with something iridescent. Diamonds? Fairy dust? A chandelier as big as a bus hovered above the shiny marble floor. And I when I say hovered, I mean the chandelierappeared to be suspended by magic, for I saw no chains holding it up. The hall itself was packed with many kinds of striga, mostly witches so beautiful they looked like Fae, all with their bright auras on full display. These were the elites, the Diablo Medici, and yet none of their auras were as bright as mine or Des’s. Many wore suits and some wore robes of the finest silks as they crisscrossed the floor and disappeared into various tunnels cut into the cavern.

So this was where witches met to decide the fates of striga all over the world? I was just a hot-dog-smelling American baker, and I was supposed to march in and demand they let my lover go free? I was certifiably crazy.

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