"Witches," he sighed.
"Yes, and we'll keep reminding you!", grinned Babs.
"We?", Hilda whispered, frowning.
William missed that, and the glances that went over the table, as he was tasting the wine again, with his eyes closed. This time it was pure gold to drink. "Oh, now this is good," William told the world, that consisted of two witches.
"I'm glad you like it, William," Baba Yaga said. "Tell you what: you can call me Babs, and I'll call you Willy."
"Oh no, I am not a Willy type of person," William shook his head.
"You'll get used to it, Willy," said the ugly witch.
William knew there was nothing he could do to change this. No way he could go against a witch and win. Instead he said: "Hilda, weren't we going to eat?"
"Oh, crap, I forgot. You're right. Babs, want to stay for a bite?"
Baba Yaga scratched her head. "Maybe I should go. Still a good flight home, Hilly. On the other hand, flying on an empty stomach is not that great either."
"Right, that settles it," Hilda said, "you're staying and I'll make something real quick."
"Let me know if you need a hand," William said as Hilda left for the kitchen.
"I think I can handle my kitchen better than you, but you're welcome to join," she laughed as she stepped out of view. Her head turned around the door opening. "Although you did a good job on breakfast this morning. I have to say."
Babs looked at William. "You were in her kitchen? To make food? Man, you got nerves."
"Less of them now," William admitted, "some burnt out already." His reward was another glass of wine.
"Clear the table, it's coming!", Hilda yelled from the kitchen.
This was a new approach for William. He saw Baba Yaga quickly grab glasses and the bottle, so he saved his own glass and some other things that lay around. And not a moment too soon. Six large plates came sailing into the room and landed on the table, two for each person. One had something hot on it, the other a cold salad.
Hilda sauntered in then, with forks and knives.
"Holy Bejeebus, you've not been in that crazy kitchen for more than a minute," William stammered. "You give a whole new meaning to fast food."
Hilda handed the eating utensils around and sat down. "Sometimes you say the strangest things, William."
12. Making things work
Baba Yaga had left them, leaving the bottle as a welcoming gift to William. She had invited them over for a return visit, as that "might be refreshing for William, seeing the home of another kind of witch". They had heard her cackling laughter for quite a while as Babs had flown off.
It was late in the evening now, and they were sitting at the large black table. Both crystal balls were there. Hilda had her wand on the table also. They were trying to brainstorm about what Babs had said, that their working together had to be the key.
"I can't get it that she was so convinced about you being the solution to my problem," Hilda said as she sipped her water. She was not taking risks this evening. "I think it was just a stupid coincidence that you came here."
William was not certain of what he had to think of it. The explanation of Babs sounded logical, but logic was something else in this world. Bring in witches and logic bails out through the nearest window.
"I really wouldn't know, Hilda."
"Isn't there anything magical you can do? Not even the smallest, simplest bit like making my wand fly?" After all, a wand was loaded with so much magic that it hardly needed encouragement to fly.
William frowned. "Since when is that simple? I sell books, Hilda. I am engulfed in the magic of books, fabulous old books. Books that are handwritten, or printed by hand with woodblocks, bound in leather and still holding the smell of monasteries."
"Monasteries. Hah. No good for me now," Hilda said, and she was right. "Then what is it that you know that can help me? Do your handwritten books say something about going against a sorcerer who is not playing by the rules and about to beat the crap out of me? Or worse?" The witch looked tired all of a sudden, and desperate. "Urgh..." She sank her head on her folded arms that rested on the table. "I don't want all this crap, Wiliam. I want to fly around and do what I do best. Not stuff like this."
William felt sorry for the woman on the other side of the table. "I really wish I could tell you something to make you feel better."
Her face still on her arms, she asked: "Do you know how much it sometimes sucks having to do everything alone?"
William got up and sat down next to Hilda. He put an arm around her schoulders and pulled her against him, which, to his surprise, she allowed to happen. She even leaned into him. "Okay, I may not be able to do very much for you, Hilda," he said, "but for now you are not alone. According to Babs I am here for a reason. We both are looking for it, but I don't think we'll be able to figure that out this very evening. We still have three moons."
"Yeah," Hilda said, her eyes closed, "but it makes me nervous still. And what the hell are you doing?" Her voice did not change in volume or emotion as she spoke, it sounded as if the question was a logical part to her statement.
"I am holding you, so you feel you are not alone."
"Oh."
They sat in silence for a while.
"And what else are you doing?", Hilda asked.
William, his thoughts drifting over things that had happened, was pulled back to the living room and the witch that was still leaning into him. "Uhm... thinking?"
The witch slowly shook her head, her long grey hair spreading out over the blue robe William wore. "Something else. I can feel it."
The salesman wondered what she could mean. He did nothing special, just enjoying the feeling and holding her. "Is it something bad?"
"You'd know if it was bad, believe me. I don't handle bad feelings well..." Hilda purred like a kitten.
"Want me to put you in your bed?", William asked, with only proper intentions.
"Yes... NO!" She sat up, pushing herself away from him and stared at him. "No, no, you can't do that!" Her cheeks became so red that it was clearly visible even in the light of the candles on the table. Then quickly she got up and moved to the other side of the table, her eyes fixed on his face. "I mean, I know you can, but I don't know- No, you shouldn't."
The witch bit her lip for a moment. "I'm taking a bath and then I go to sleep." She kept looking at William, as if she wanted to will him to remain where he was.
"Of course, Hilda," the guest said, "if that is what you want then that is what you should do. I'll stay downstairs and read some of the books. Just let me know when you're done."
"Hmm. Okay. Just you stay down here. No peeking, or you're out of the house faster than you can think." Her tone was defensive, her heartbeat was high and she felt insecure and confused.
"Don't worry. I'll be good."
Hilda nodded and went up the stairs, mumbling and muttering.
William listened to her go until a door closed and the sounds that the witch made were cut off. Then he picked up one of the books that Hilda allowed him to read. He put a few candles closer by so he had enough light to read. "Right. What do we have here... 'Manifesting protection - an introduction'..."
Hilda sat in her bathtub, staring at the purple bubbles, soap making her hair stand out in all directions. "Suck an elf," she muttered. "Why doesn't he open up about his magic. He does something, the rat, and he says he's innocent." She threw her sponge in the tub, splashing water around. "I wish I hated it. Argh."
He had been so wrapped up in the book that he had not heard Hilda come down again.
"William, bathroom's free."
"Huh? Oh, thanks." He looked at her and smiled. She wore a bright red housecoat that hung to her ankles. Her hair was still damp, her face soft in the dim light that reached the bottom of the stairs. He noticed she was barefoot. "I'm almost done with this chapter. Sleep well, Hilda."
"Yeah, you too." She lingered at the stairs, a hand on the handrail. "And thank you for this evening." As if she was fleeing, she
turned and quickly ran up the stairs, finding refuge in her room.
Soon peace and quiet descended over most of the magical house. Exception was Hilda's bedroom, where a witch lay tossing and turning and worrying.
Despite the early hour Hilda already sat in the room at the table when William came quietly down the stairs. She wore the bright red long housecoat again.
"Good morning," she said, turning her head to him as she heard him. "You're up early."
"Look who's talking," he grinned as he sat down opposire her. He was in the grey velvet trousers and the shirt. And barefoot.
Hilda had made tea already and without asking she poured him a cup. "You know, there is something from your insane world that I miss. It's that stuff you call coffee. I've tried to conjure that up a few times but it's never the real thing."
"You need the proper beans for it," he admitted, "otherwise it will be quite difficult."
"Beans..." Hilda repeated the word in disbelief and snorted. She looked out of the window and watched the sun rise.
"Why are you up so early? Habit?", William asked.
The wicked witch, not looking or feeling very wicked at that moment, shrugged. "Just happened. And you?"
"Just happened. And habit, somewhat." He got up. "I'm making breakfast."
She looked up at him. "Let me do that. It's safer."
"No way," he said, gently pushing her back on the chair as she wanted to rise. "I've survived once, I'll manage again."
"Bloody hell you will," she said, using a spark of magic to stand up despite his hand, "I'm the one who makes breakfast here, got that? This is my