Chapter one

A GREAT ASSET TO OUR TEAM

Abagail had done everything necessary to obtain her RPL. She had completed her course weeks ago. Her flight instructors had only high praise for her dedication, efficiency, patience, ability to listen to instructions, and navigational awareness. This was it! Her first solo flight stretched out 1900 feet ahead of her as she sat by herself waiting for clearance. For two years she had squeezed all her spare time and money into obtaining her Recreational Pilot's Licence. BUT... the more she took to the skies... the more she missed her shop. Her shop Spiritual Gifts was booming. She had expected it to be a one-year lease. However, customers were frequent. Being hands-on with ordering, expanding, learning, painting, fixing, staff, selling, buying, opening and closing day after day had now overtaken her desire to fly. She simply loved the shop. In fact, she was having friendly negotiations with the owner to buy it one day.

'Tango Alpha 67543, Gemini Tower, Runway 1, clear for takeoff,' said the Air Traffic Controller, very quickly.

'Cleared for takeoff, Runway 1, Tango Alpha 67543.'

Abagail gulped. As calm as she had felt, she now had a bad feeling about this. Her mind raced trying to reassure herself that all was well. Checklists, instrument panels, satnav readings, wind speed, crosswinds, flaps, weight, fuel, etc.... Abagail had no reason to make an excuse to abort, so accelerated to over 70 knots. Slowly she pulled back the nose of the Diamonds DA71 as it swayed and bounced ever higher into the sky. The winds were accommodating, the day was a little cloudy but held no rain. Once the initial height was achieved she banked the plane left, away from the airport's busy flight path and climbed ever higher where she would gain clear visibility at 2500 feet. Her dream of flying customers from town to town, city to city was not on her mind anymore. Abagail had paid a lot of money to be here, so she may as well accomplish her first solo flight. She had decided this during her busy week. Get up get down get done. Feather in cap. Put it away. Whenever she regained the bug, she was cleared for take-off.

'Tango Alpha 67543, Gemini Tower. How are you doing up there?'

'Gemini Tower, Tango Alpha 67543. No complaints. I'll still continue with my initial logged flight plan out to sea today. Over.'

'Roger.'

Once at 2500 feet, the cloud was breaking up as expected. Abagail flew for a further ten minutes to her designated turnaround point, then headed back to Gemini Airfield. The water looked vast and choppy today.

To say Abagail was screaming inside as her instrument panel went dead was an understatement.

'Shit, I knew it!' coughed Abagail. At first she was surprisingly calm as she swept her eyes over everything she could. Nothing. 'Tango Alpha 67543, declaring an emergency, over!' Now, Abagail felt anxious. She waited. Nothing. Her checklist followed, still nothing. Restarting, everything failed.

'Tango Alpha 67543, declaring an emergency, over?' Her engine was out. All of her instrument panels were down. Worst of all, no aircraft radio reception. She tapped on her headphones. Unplugged and reinserted. Still, no one to help. Abagail thought with her plane, using just her feet to steer by the pedals. Her soft, clean control yoke was as hard as a twenty-minute boiled egg. This was beyond her. She knew the chances of landing safely now were very low. Below, the sea would swallow this small plane up like an insect. Abagail took a mouthful of water from her water bottle. She closed her eyes and prayed out loud.

'Dear universe. I need your help. I'm going to die. If this is your choosing and my path, I am ready,' she cried. Abagail thought of her fat cat Roper, alone at home. Clair at the shop wondering why she couldn't reach her. Abagail was an orphan.

'Tango Alpha....7...543,' she mumbled dejectedly. 'Declaring an emergency. Mayday, mayday, mayday!' The plane was quickly losing altitude. She probably had less than five minutes until she crashed into the choppy sea.

'Hello!' smiled a tall man climbing into the vacant seat next to Abagail from the small storage compartment behind her. Unbelievably he was wearing some kind of pilot's uniform and cap. 'Don't be startled. Of course you would be. Totally understandable.'

'WHAT? WHO? Where did you come from?' screamed Abagail. 'I'm sorry,' she finally said, watching the man start tinkering with the control panel. 'I've lost all control of the plane. Are you a pilot?' she desperately wished.

'Me ...? Heavens no. I'm just a fan of your work Miss Abercrombie. I couldn't help but hear your prayer for help and.......'

The instrument panel flickered on and off as Rupert fiddled about with several controls at a pace which Abagail could barely follow.

'Oh my god!' shouted Abagail. 'Oh! Oh! IT CAME BACK ON! And again!!'

'Just a couple of little tricks I learned from spending some time with an old fighter ace friend of mine. I'm ... pretty sure we can ...'

The plane jolted to life. Instruments all working. Engine running. Abagail, speechless.

'Tango Alpha 67543, Gemini Tower. You're looking good from here. Maybe a little low. Climb to 1500 feet. All clear to land on Runway 2, over.'

There was a long pause before Abagail looked at Rupert with tears in her eyes.

'Well go on. Tell him your right to land...I promise you Abagail. I'm not here to Bedevil you. You're all good to land. Captain's orders.'

'Tango Alpha 67543, Gemini Tower, all clear to land, over?'

'Gemini Tower,' whispered Abagail. She coughed. 'Tango Alpha 67543 ... Runway 2, all clear to land ... over.'

'Roger.'

Abagail slapped the radio button off and grabbed for Rupert's arm, but, it went right through him. She looked frightened, Rupert noticed.

'I was planning on a more easy-going moment to introduce myself, Abagail. However, I am Rupert Richardson, your international ghost hunter, you might say. Perhaps at some stage I could visit your wonderful little store in Moriset. Spiritual Gifts. We feel you would make a great asset to our team .... Ah, best keep an eye on your altitude though. You're coming in a little too slow as well.'

Abagail quickly studied her panel and increased her power and levelled off at 1500 feet with the control yoke.

'Sorry, how rude of me,' apologised Rupert. 'Your first solo flight and here I am ... well ... It's yours, and you're going to land it by yourself. Right?'

'Right,' replied Abagail, seriously.

She gritted her teeth. Calmly she took control of the aircraft's speed, updated her satnav, and familiarised herself with the airfield ahead. Slowly but surely, Tango Alpha 67543 gently touched down onto Runway 2.

Abagail taxied over to the hangar and turned off the engine. Her regular instructor and head mechanic stood waiting for her. She looked at their smiling faces. Their smiles soon disappeared when hers was not returned.

'What will I tell them?' she asked, looking back at Rupert.

'The truth. Except for my part of course. I was never here,' grinned Rupert. 'This plane needs to be completely overhauled. Frankly, Abagail, it is a death trap.'

'No kidding,' grimaced Abagail. 'Thanks Ace.'

'Hmm, Ace. I like that,' smiled Rupert.

As the men came up to the plane, Abagail climbed down to meet them. She turned around to see that Rupert had vanished.

'All good?' asked the mechanic.

Abagail looked murderously at them both.

Chapter Two

Lightblue

Jacob looked out from his bedroom window to the street. His modest low-set three-bedroom brick home was easily missed in a leafy street littered with elegant houses. He sadly peeked through the slightly drawn cream-coloured curtains. He was horrified as a tow truck turned into his driveway. For what rode in strapped to the back of it was Lightblue. He squinted as the blinding morning sun illuminated his once-handsome face. He closed his eyes and softly shook his head.

Jacob turned about and contemplated the state of his room. Surrounding him were heavy boxes stacked five feet high with various items including clothing, books, collectibles and an assortment of other items once happily displayed around the house. It was all now an overflowing reminder of the terrible world in which he was drowning, as his steps shuffled around the maze of empty boxes. To leave the bedroom and walk the old thin-carpeted hallway to the front door, he had to remember to turn right then left then left then right.

He pushed open the front door and made his way stiffly down the three steps onto the grass. The truck driver was surprisingly clean-cut and efficient, as he quickly assessed where to drop the car wreck.

‘Over there!’ croaked Jacob, pointing unconvincingly. His heart was just not in it.

The driver pulled out the paperwork from his back pocket and coughed a lot.

‘Okay…’ he mulled it over. ‘Mr. Jacob Kelly. 134 Sunnycrest Avenue.’ He read aloud.

‘Yep, that’s me… JK,’ mumbled Jacob.

The driver looked over at the gold numbers on the side of the house that read 134.

‘Right,’ nodded the driver, and walked straight back to his truck without acknowledging Jacob but for a quick glance.

‘Asshole,’ whispered Jacob to himself as the tow truck driver quickly reversed back to a clearing under an old oak tree and began unloading it.

Jacob had seen enough and began to make his way back inside. His cowboy boots jangled quietly under his long thin blue jeans. His white T-shirt was surprisingly still white. Once inside the open door, Jacob caught a quick glance of himself in the hallway mirror. Besides his frowning face, his body looked tall, lean and together. On the wall close by hung a happy photo of himself and Carol. He studied the way his arm held tightly around her shoulder. They looked so ready for life. He shook his head.

‘Just put the paperwork in the letterbox,’ shouted Jacob, annoyed.

He waited. Still no reply from the now whistling, odd driver glancing in his direction.

‘Sort it out yourself then!’ said Jacob, slamming the door shut.

The driver looked quickly over at the sound from the slamming door. He shrugged, then hurriedly stowed his straps and tools back into their metal boxes and drove off in a hurry.

*

Back at the window, Jacob eyed the car wreck. Right, left, left, right.

He opened the front door and slowly ambled over to their once-beloved light blue car. The massive impact on the driver’s side door had bent the door in halfway across the driver’s seat. Jacob’s mouth fell open. He felt dizzy as his knuckles turned white with rage as he gripped helplessly at where the window should be. He moaned and trembled as he slowly but surely slid down against the car crying at his loss. He held on while he knelt on the ground sobbing.

‘CAROL!!!’ he wept. ‘God… damn it,’ he whispered.

Such unbearable emotion only lessened with time. He would never find a better woman. With no energy or inspiration left, Jacob headed back to bed to hide from the world.

Jacob woke again, reading the words THIS SIDE UP in bold red letters on the box at the bottom of his bed. He lay there thinking of how he had only recently retired. How he had only recently given up playing guitar and singing. How he had only recently decided with Carol that they would move to the country for a quieter life. He thought and thought and again closed his eyes from mental exhaustion and dreamt.

*

Carol drove Lightblue as they shared another story about hearing his song at the garage. At the market. At the Moriset Mall. Jacob’s one and only country hit. It was at 72 on the national top 100 this week. Carol was so proud of Jacob as his song played on the radio for the second time today. She had a big smile and bright blue eyes that penetrated his eyes with love. She knew all the words and had a lovely voice to boot. Jacob affectionately called her Betty Rubble, on account of her short dark hair and a lust for blue.

Jacob’s bucket list was now fulfilled as he looked out the window from the passenger seat. Beautiful wife, country hit. If it went no higher, they cared not. They weren’t struggling. It was more a hobby now for Jacob after the last forty years of push and shove which he had put himself through. Carol, only four years. Thank goodness, he thought.

‘Turning Lightblue beach-bound,’ giggled Carol.

The sun was warm, the going good. A picnic basket sat between them. They passed through the busy intersection under the green light. From a distance, Jacob heard a siren and looked out his window to see which direction it was coming from.

This time, Jacob had been able to wake from the recurring dream instead of reliving the bright lights of the hospital bed. Besides a few bruises, cuts and having his cheekbone broken after his head had slammed into the window knocking him unconscious, all was behind him. He had recovered. Carol was dead.

Jacob stood beside the passenger door of Lightblue. He grabbed the handle, and with his thumb, pushed on the chrome button and the heavy light blue metal door opened like a well-oiled Swiss watch. Jacob felt a little unstable on his feet, so sat down inside the car for the first time since the accident. He closed the door and sat looking straight ahead. The breeze was cool under the large leafy old oak. The birds chirped and warbled. Slowly, he closed his eyes and blew out a huge breath.

‘Jacob,’ whispered a voice.

Jacob opened his eyes and looked as a light blue butterfly bounced off the cracked windscreen and flew away.

‘Jacob,’ said the voice more pleadingly.

Jacob’s whole body rushed with fright as he realised someone was sitting next to him in the car. He heard the leather seat move beside him. He slowly turned and to his utter disbelief, Carol sat looking at him.

‘Jacob… I miss you so much. Everything is too hard without you. Oh… I’m lost without you, Jacob. I’m tired. So drained. I don’t know what’s happened?’

Jacob watched on, every emotion he had bubbling up within him wrapped in the amazement of his beloved Carol’s presence.

Carol turned away, opened the door, and left.

‘Carol! Carol!’ blurted out Jacob, hurrying to exit Lightblue.

He ran around the car and stopped. Painfully, he watched her disappear.

‘Carol,’ he stammered.

Her ghost had visited Jacob. He didn’t feel frightened. It was more of a relief there had been a chance to be with her again. She had looked faint and tired. Nevertheless, it had been Carol.

He stood wondering if he should go back in the car. Finally, he decided against it. For the first time since the crash, he felt the slight ability to focus, so made his way to the kitchen for some fried eggs and beans. His thoughts raced with the inspiring image of his wife. Somehow, she was still here, still around. Maybe contactable? But how? What could he do to communicate with her? Somewhere, she was looking for him.

He found a packet of biscuits, ate the lot and washed it down with hot chocolate.

ABAGAIL THE MEDIUM

The old Indian motorcycle roared down the highway. Carol’s apparition had inspired Jacob to get out of the house, but what he needed most now was help. The bike was still blowing off cobwebs from the dusty garage it had sat neglected in for months, as Jacob came to a rumbling halt out front of the old Murphy’s venue where he heard singing coming from inside.

Within twenty minutes, Jacob angrily stormed out of the venue and headed back to town.

On entering Moriset and riding along Daisy Park Road, Jacob noticed a sign that read “Medium” above a shopfront. He slowed excitedly, parked his bike, and went over to investigate.

‘Oh…’ said the young woman, turning to discover Jacob in front of her. She leaned down to pick up the astrology book she had dropped, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on this familiar‑looking man. Not because she had met him before, but because of a description that somehow fitted perfectly into the jigsaw pieces she had been given. She placed the book on top of the long glass display case in front of her and waited.

‘Sorry to frighten you,’ said Jacob. ‘I noticed your sign when riding past and well… I need help.’

The young woman wiped her hair to one side and looked thoughtfully at Jacob.

‘What made you choose me, ah… Mr.?’

‘Sorry, just call me Jacob. Or JK. Nothing, just… can you help? Miss?’ he asked hopefully.

‘Abagail,’ she whispered quietly. ‘Perhaps… it depends what it is… Jacob, right?’

Jacob nodded and gave a small reassuring smile. He pulled up the only small wooden chair beside Abagail’s display cabinet. He looked at the wilting sunflower and pushed its glass vase to the side. Abagail threw a black cloth over it and gave a shocked short laugh.

‘And bah‑boom!’ she called out. She lifted the cloth away to reveal a now bright and healthy sunflower.

‘I thought you were a medium, not a magician,’ said Jacob, admiring the now happy‑looking sunflower.

‘Magician by night, medium by day. Or vice versa,’ she shrugged. ‘Musician when the time arises. Just like you, Jacob.’

‘That’s right. Good guess. Or maybe you’re aware that one of my songs is now… well, just left the top 100 country chart. Maybe you saw my face on the TV. Anyway, I was just out of town at a venue. It happened to be one I’d performed at with a band over two years ago. Some of the old band members were there and just laughed at me when I went up on stage to perform my one and only hit song.’

‘Mhmm,’ yawned Abagail.

‘They said things like: “That’s a great song.” “It’s okay.” “I don’t like it.” “One vote for I don’t like it. No… two. I don’t like it either. What’s ‘Your heart is one with mine’ supposed to mean anyway?” “Jacob’s the man.” “Jacob’s a dumb‑arse.” That was Mitch.’

‘Mhmm,’ sighed Abagail.

‘I’d just taken the neck of the guitar and left it where it was on stage. I felt humiliated they would speak so badly of me. Not only that… some crazy guy had sat down in a rush at the same table as me, sweating, slightly drunk, maybe high too. He said stuff like: “Stupid cops!” and placed a full glass of cold beer down on the high‑set table in front of me. I told him, “Sorry, pal. I’m not really looking to be chatty right now. But that beer looks good.” I admitted that. Then he said: “They shouldn’t have chased me. Now a woman’s dead.” I asked where. “Straight through the lights and BANG!” he said…’

‘Jacob,’ said Abagail, trying to calm him.

‘Not Main Street, Jasmin Beach?’ I gasped. “Cost me all my savings for that lawyer to get me out,” he said. He looked around, said, “One more beer and I’ll be gone. Gone like a damn magic act! They’ll put me away for twenty years for sure.” He laughed right at me. I made a fist. I was too worked up. Maybe I was jumping to conclusions. As I stood from the stool to take a swing, the man lost his nerve and ran out the front door. I followed him outside, but he was gone in a cloud of dust within seconds. Went back inside and saw the beer he’d left on the table in front of him and took a sip. “Destroyed my life for a beer,” I said.’

‘Jacob!’ shouted Abagail.

‘Hmm?’ asked Jacob, wiping his brow.

‘Congratulations on the song, Jacob,’ she coughed. ‘Now that the small talk is out the way…’ She leaned forward. ‘How can I help you?’

‘My wife died in a car crash, and she’s been appearing to me. You see, I had the car—God rest her soul—which she was killed in, towed back home and placed in the yard.’ Abagail slowly sat down and listened. ‘I was sitting in the car and she appeared.’

‘The car wreck?’ asked Abagail.

‘Yes. Lightblue.’

‘Lightblue?’ asked Abagail.

‘That’s what Carol named it,’ said Jacob, looking away toward Abagail’s bookshelf. To Abagail, Jacob looked totally confused.

‘And you’re wondering why she’s looking for you?’ asked Abagail.

‘No… I want you to talk to her. I want you to come to my house and when she appears, talk to her. Tell her I love her. Tell Carol I miss her. I am so lost without her. Tell her… tell her she’s… dead.’

Abagail sighed and looked out onto the street as an old woman walked in and greeted her.

‘Hi Abagail!’ she said brightly.

‘Hello, Jenny. I’m with a client right now. Can you come back in twenty minutes, please?’ asked Abagail, with no emotion.

‘Oh, I… of course.’ Jenny flashed a quick smile toward Jacob, turned about, and left without fuss.

Abagail unscrewed the lid of her water bottle, took a sip, and lit another incense stick.

‘How do you plan on paying me?’ asked Abagail softly, her pale white skin striking under her dark‑dyed hair.

‘Oh, here,’ explained Jacob, bringing a cheque for five hundred dollars from the inside of his denim jacket pocket and placing it delicately in front of her.

‘That’s no small feat, Jacob, and quite a lot of money.’

‘Please… will you help?’ begged Jacob.

Abagail looked at the cheque, then back at Jacob.

‘I don’t usually do house calls… but I will help you. Or should I say, I will try, Jacob.’

‘Oh, thank you. Thank you kindly,’ smiled Jacob.

‘When were you wanting me to help?’ asked Abagail.

‘Today?’

‘Not today… Friday the thirteenth. I am free then.’

+

Jacob stood looking through the cream‑coloured curtains as a small yellow Volkswagen Beetle arrived in his yard. He hurried around the boxes, pulling on his boots and tidying his hair before quickly making his way outside. Right, left, left, right.

Abagail was getting out of her car, which she had parked right beside Lightblue, as Jacob caught his breath on reaching her.

‘Thanks for coming.’ He nodded.

Abagail said nothing, but looked very seriously at Jacob. She turned to look at the car. Slowly, she turned back and looked at Jacob.

‘She’s here,’ whispered Abagail, looking at the car.

‘She is?’ asked Jacob with great anticipation.

‘Come, take a seat in the front and I’ll sit in the back. Okay?’

Jacob walked with purpose to the passenger door, meeting Abagail. They both hopped in and waited. Nothing happened for a minute before Abagail said,

‘Here she comes.’

Jacob looked in every direction until he noticed her walking up to the driver’s door, passing through it, then sitting, staring straight ahead.

‘Hello, Carol,’ said Abagail quietly.

‘Hello, Abagail. Is Jacob here?’ she asked tensely in a whisper.

‘Yes,’ answered Abagail gently. ‘He’s sitting right beside you.’

Jacob looked pained at the thought Carol could not see him.

‘Carol, honey, it’s me… I’m here. I’m right beside you!’ Jacob tried to take her hand but couldn’t. He stopped and rubbed his face in confusion.

‘Jacob? You’re here… I can’t see you… I love you. I’m sorry, baby. I can’t believe what’s happened!’

‘Carol? Carol? She can’t hear me, Abagail? Why not? Carol? CAROL?’

‘Jacob,’ said Abagail firmly.

Jacob spun around, perplexed.

‘She can’t hear you yet. But she can hear me. I will talk for you. Do you understand?’

‘Okay, okay. Talk. Please talk.’ He nodded repeatedly.

‘Jacob says he’s missing you and loves you dearly. He wishes you could hear him.’

‘He does?’

‘Yes. Very much so,’ confirmed Abagail.

‘Will I be able to hear him?’ asked Carol, staring straight ahead.

‘Yes, in time you will hear him as well as see him, I believe… we’ll get there. When the time is right. Yes, that’s right. They are in agreement,’ explained Abagail in a whisper.

A police car drove into the driveway, heading slowly toward them.

‘Someone’s telling me it’s time to go now,’ Carol informed them.

‘Who? Not yet!’ pleaded Jacob, moving about in his chair.

Jacob watched with amazement as Carol quickly vanished. Both officers got out and walked toward the car wreck.

Both officers got out and walked towards the car wreck.

‘They would have to turn up right at this very moment. We were getting somewhere,’ complained Jacob.

The shorter officer stepped up to the window, looked at Jacob, then at Abagail. Jacob jumped out and looked at the officers.

‘You know you could have called. We’re very busy at the moment with an important matter. Ah… regarding the insurance. Right, Abagail?’ said Jacob, looking for agreement from her to fool the police.

The older officer looked away from Jacob and handed Abagail a letter as she opened the door.

‘Police report for the insurance. It’s finalised,’ said the officer in a drawl. ‘Thanks, Abagail.’

‘Oh, sorry,’ apologised Jacob.

‘I’ll get it sorted. Thanks,’ she replied.

They got back into their police cruiser and slowly reversed out and drove away.

Abagail and Jacob went inside the house. Jacob watched Abagail place the police report onto the kitchen table and sit down.

‘I need a cup of tea,’ said Abagail. ‘Would you like one?’

‘Yeah, thanks,’ Jacob said with a smile. He sat down and sighed.

‘Don’t worry, JK. I’ll have it all sorted out before the end of the week. You’ll be chatting like there’s no tomorrow. Sound good?’

‘Sounds great… I can’t believe you can do this. It’s really helping. I mean that. Thank you.’

‘I know. I’ve done this kind of thing several times before,’ lied Abagail. ‘It’s always a bit different.’ She swept a hand out to the side. Jacob had never seen her move her arm to express anything before that. ‘But we just have to be patient. When the time is right, the time is right. Right?’

‘Right.’ Jacob nodded.

Abagail drew out two cups, placed tea leaves into a pot, and sat back down at the table.

CHAPTER 4. RUPERT RICHARDSON

Abagail squinted at the key lock on her car door. It was getting darker now. She finally found it and jumped in. She took a deep breath and looked over to see Jacob looking through the curtain at her. She started her car, turned on the headlights and drove quickly away.

Jacob and Carol were a big deal to Abagail, and she was finding it challenging. The yellow Beetle drove along with the other traffic. She came into town, which was only two minutes from her small green house — her home.

The lights changed to green further ahead. Several cars overtook her. She looked at her grey wristwatch for the time. The illuminated blue numbers said six o’clock.

As Abagail looked back to the road, a tall dark figure stood directly in front of her car. She slammed on the brakes and the yellow Beetle slid wildly to a stop only inches from this crazy person. Abagail let out an anguished sigh of relief as the figure wasn’t hit, but turned away to watch as a power pole just ahead toppled over onto the road. Sparks and small explosions accompanied its demise.

Abagail’s mouth fell open as other cars also stopped suddenly from different directions, just short of the live power lines stretching back up towards the adjacent still‑standing poles.

The tall dark figure turned back around, headed to the passenger door and let himself in. He sat down, closed the door and flashed a serious grin at Abagail.

‘You know, I could fall for a girl like you, Abagail.’

‘Rupert! Did you just save my life AGAIN?’ asked Abagail, quickly allowing her serious and unfazed personality to refill her temporarily shell‑shocked fragile state. Her piercing brown eyes began to settle upon him.

‘No. Just your beautiful yellow Beetle this time. Well… that’s putting it simply… but… we should drive on. I love a good drive.’

Abagail didn’t hesitate and followed several other cars to the left and away from the building traffic.

‘I can’t let anything unexpected happen to my favourite medium of Moriset, can I now?’

‘I’m the only medium in Moriset, Rupert. Which you know, I know.’

‘I know,’ he smiled, ‘you know.’

‘Don’t start those word games please, Rupert. And what on earth are you wearing anyway?’ frowned Abagail, hiding a smile. ‘You look like Zorro in that black hat and cape.’

‘Well, I wanted to get dressed up for tonight,’ he answered confidently. ‘Saving a damsel in distress is such fun.’

‘Hmmm, and should I ask… what are you going to do with yourself now I’m dropping you off shortly, my hero? Or will I regret asking?’

A fire truck with lights flashing passed by on the opposite side of the road on its way to the fallen power pole.

‘Wilbur Warburton is in town tonight,’ declared Rupert.

‘Aww, really?’ answered Abagail with surprise. Wilbur had been her inspiration into the field of magic. ‘You know I love his work.’

‘Settled. We’ll head off to his show then. There’re a few seats left. His show starts in thirty minutes at the Dawn Theatre.’

‘You sure know how to close the deal on a date, Rupert,’ challenged Abagail, pretending to be slightly put out, though she was in fact excited, relieved, and in need of some magic.

They got out, closed the doors, locked the car and proceeded to walk to the front of the Dawn Theatre. A dozen or so spacious cement steps led to the well‑lit huge glass doors up top. Once inside, they walked towards the ticket office beside the snacks counter. Rupert whispered in her ear:

‘Buy two tickets, please, Abagail. I hate not being seated next to you.’

‘Very well,’ shrugged Abagail. ‘Two tickets for Wilbur Warburton, please.’

‘Both adults?’ asked the attendant plainly.

‘Yes thanks, he’s just gone to the bathroom.’

‘Row Five, seats A and B,’ said the attendant, handing over the tickets.

‘Don’t lose my ticket, dear. It will be nice to attend a show with a real ticket for once.’

Abagail smiled a little at the attendant, making sure not to look at Rupert, who was in fact invisible to the attendant.

At the end of the long-carpeted walkway, Abagail joined the large gathering of ticket holders waiting outside the still‑unopened doors behind two doormen.

‘What a fine bunch of Morisettions we have here tonight,’ said Rupert, standing beside her. ‘They’re in for a show.’

Rupert vanished, only to appear from the landing above, waving at her.

‘There must be three or four hundred here tonight. Good crowd,’ he shouted. No one but Abagail could hear him.

As the doors opened and people hurried forward, Abagail was shocked when, on reaching the doormen, Rupert appeared to stand up and be temporarily visible. The man took the two tickets without fuss.

Once inside, the dark room held only tiny pink floor lights that led the way towards the seating. Rupert disappeared.

Seated on the aisle seat, Abagail regularly moved her legs aside for everyone with tickets to Aisle Five. When a man attempted later to sit beside her, he was shocked to find a man in the chair he hadn’t noticed in the dark.

‘Move on, buddy,’ suggested Rupert. On watching him move on, Rupert added, ‘He’s not your type.’

‘How do you know?’ quizzed Abagail.

‘He already has two women believing they’re the only woman in his life. Nasty fellow really. Many lessons to be learned with that one.’

‘So you saved me more problems twice in one night?’ smiled Abagail, looking at the high ceiling with sparkling white lights and occasional flashing red ones.

Rupert put his fingers to his cheeks and showed a playful grin.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome… Wilbur Warburton!!” said the deep male voice introducing him onto the stage.

Wilbur rode a small white pony onto the stage, causing roars of applause.

The show went well. Rabbits out of hats. People appearing from cupboards. All sorts of mainstream magic tricks. But since the pony, nothing had really grabbed the audience’s attention. This was disappointing to Rupert.

So, when Wilbur’s assistant prepared to be levitated into the air in her costume fit for a Copacabana foray, Rupert saw a little room for — let’s say — mystery. More excitement.

The horizontal assistant reached the five‑foot mark and, to her dismay at first — before it was replaced with sheer panic — continued ever upwards.

The audience was suddenly on the edge of their seats. Higher she climbed, waving her arms around in panic. Wilbur looked visibly shocked and wondered how on earth she was continuing to rise as his composure broke.

Once she started yelling for help on nearing the ceiling and members of the audience approached the stage, unable to restrain themselves from a possible emergency, Rupert’s work was done.

The spotlight became wobbly. The script was not being followed.

Wilbur's distorted features began to settle on seeing his assistant slowly descend. His bright white teeth glistened in the now returned spotlight, as thunderous applause echoed throughout the room. Copious amounts of sweat now seen as a reflection of his glistening hard work. His gritted teeth now looked steely strong. Wilbur looked amazed. The assistant, unable to tell if Wilbur had been suddenly gifted some god-like talent, burst into tears of joy as she neared the stage floor. A bunch of would-be heroes who had left their chairs to render assistance found their faces lit in the spotlights. All awestruck. All held in the wonder, the magnificence, the presence of the stupendous Wilbur Warburton. Wilbur flashed a long-held wink to the crowd, to make them feel like they were in on the trick. On an all-time high, Wilbur wrapped up the show a full ten minutes early. Spinning a dozen plates on sticks wasn't needed tonight. He spent that ten minutes being given four standing ovations, with his levitating assistant clapping along in rapture. Wilbur continued to look every so often at the ceiling. He placed his hands over his eyes in amazement at his own greatness. His eyes, a kaleidoscope of sparkling energy, revealed to his fans again and again. He knew how to milk an audience when the going was good and he'd never had it so good.

'You know Rupert,' said Abagail, descending the stairs towards the street. 'I know what you did in there.'

'I know. Did you like it?' asked Rupert, happily.

Abagail burst into laughter a moment. She regained a straight face and nodded. 'Fantastic!'

'Absolutely,' replied Rupert, pompously.

'What of poor Wilbur when he is unable to replicate that tremendous feat in the future,' grinned Abagail, wickedly.

'I didn't think of that,' realised Rupert. 'Are you hungry?' asked Rupert.

'Starving,' admitted Abagail.

'I know just the perfect place,' said Rupert, with anticipation.

'Brilliant,' admitted Abagail. 'I can't face another night of crackers and cheese.'

'Ough,' shuddered Rupert. 'We can't have that. What kind of cheese?'

'Camembert, now come on,' she insisted.

They climbed into the yellow beetle and drove away.

'I love Camembert,' smiled Rupert. 'What kind of crackers?'

'Mhmm,' grunted Abagail.

*

'You look preoccupied,' suggested Rupert, watching Abagail devour hot curry prawns and rice.

'There's a couple over on the right constantly watching me talking to myself,' she explained.

'I would be intrigued for a moment too I suppose,' agreed Rupert.

Abagail took out her phone from her small black handbag and talked into it, as two waiters dressed all in black raced past. Both adjoining levels of the dark restaurant were full.

'Maybe I'll just pretend to be on the phone for a while.'

'You do that,' said Rupert, confidently. 'Let me tell you a story.'

Abagail looked quickly to see that the couple were still watching her. She looked at Rupert.

'Go ahead.' She ate.

'I'm your guardian angel as you know.'

'I know,' said Abagail, chewing on some tiger prawn.

'But you haven't met your other three guardians. Would you like to?'

Abagail nodded slightly.

'Right, that settles it then. Here's Astar.'

A tall young blonde-haired white girl of around 14 appeared sitting beside Rupert at their booth. Astar just looked happily at Abagail. Her multi-coloured dress sparkled.

'Greetings Abagail,' she delicately expressed.

Abagail looked surprised.

'I've sensed your presence before. Several times,' explained Abagail. 'You look about five feet ten, like me.'

'And one-half,' giggled Astar.

'Not to be outdone, here's Sitting Wolf,' explained Rupert, with flair. 'Shorter than five ten, I may add.'

'How tall are you?' asked Abagail. 'Six three?'

Rupert nodded.

The sudden appearance of a long dark-haired, 30-ish-year-old Native American with a chiseled brown face, little expression and a peaceful strength was exactly what Abagail had expected to see.

'Yum, this is delicious, Sitting Wolf. Would you like to try some from my plate?' asked Abagail.

Sitting Wolf smiled. 'No thanks, I brought my own.'

A carved wooden bowl and spoon appeared before him. He took the spoon, leaned forward and scooped a large amount of Abagail's curry prawns into his bowl. Abagail was fascinated as he tried a little from the bowl and smiled.

'Good.' He smiled.

Astar giggled, Rupert smiled.

'And that leaves one to go,' smiled Rupert.

'Last but not least,' giggled Astar.

Abagail watched as a black rabbit appeared beside her. He sat up and looked at Abagail.

'It's nice to finally meet you Abagail,' said the rabbit, wiggling his nose.

'Oh, he's so cute,' smiled Abagail.

'Tibber rabbit's a killer,' warned Rupert, with a grin.

'A defender of our world,' added Sitting Wolf.

'He likes sweet potato,' added Astar.

Abagail looked a little relieved by Astar's choice of words. Until—

'But don't be deceived,' Astar continued. 'Many foes have been destroyed by just a simple wiggle of his nose.'

Abagail put her fork down and looked at the rabbit with intense cautiousness.

They all suddenly laughed while the rabbit handed Abagail a seed.

'What's this seed?' asked Abagail, unsure.

'Oh that,' grinned Rupert, 'A giant sweet potato seed. Very very rare,' he insisted.

'He wants you to plant it in your vegetable garden,' explained Astar.

'It's a bit late for that,' advised Abagail. 'Summer is nearly over.'

'Fiddlesticks,' suggested Rupert. 'Summer is never over. It just moves further down the road.'

Abagail shrugged and placed the seed into a zipped section within her black handbag.

'Ok?' smiled Abagail.

'Good evening Miss. I'm the manager here, Tom Marks,' said the man now standing beside her.

Abagail just looked blankly back.

'Is everything okay? We've been told you seem to be acting funny.'

'Oh, no,' shrugged Abagail. 'Everything's fine. This curry is brilliant. Love it. It's the best!'

'Absolutely,' agreed Rupert. 'And may I say you're doing a superb job. This culinary masterpiece wasn't just cooked, it was clearly summoned—'

'Why thank you very much,' said the manager. 'I can see you're sitting here all alone, and well, another couple said you were talking to yourself a lot and acting funny. It was making them feel... uneasy?' he continued.

'That's understandable,' nodded Rupert. 'It would make me uneasy too.'

Abagail would have kicked Rupert if she could, but she couldn't.

'Maybe they're the funny ones,' concluded Rupert.

The manager turned about to look at the couple. To his utter dismay, they were now wearing red noses and were dressed like colourful clowns. The whole restaurant was now laughing in hysterics, as the manager hurried over and insisted they get up and leave. The fact that they both found themselves dressed as clowns left them speechless. Quickly they both threw down some cash and made a run for the exit. Their extra large shoes clip‑clopping, while a weird farting sound accompanied their highly entertaining exit. Even the manager's annoyance turned to belly laughs, as he watched them awkwardly climb into their silver Mercedes-Benz and speed away.

Abagail watched her guardians laughing for a little while longer before settling down. The whole restaurant was on a high as none other than Wilbur Warburton himself, with one woman on each arm, marched into the room. Many people started to talk amongst themselves that the clowns had been of Wilbur's making. Once Wilbur was seated and the manager and staff pressed him on this point with smiles and free champagne, he neither denied nor admitted to it. A true master never divulged his personal tricks to his immediate audience.

'Well, this has been a fantastic evening Rupert, but it's getting late and I have work tomorrow,' explained Abagail.

'So you have,' agreed Rupert, standing up.

'Ciao,' said Sitting Wolf, and vanished.

'Auf Wiedersehen,' giggled Astar, and vanished.

'Are you taking that toy rabbit home with you?' asked Rupert.

Abagail picked up the soft toy rabbit.

'He turned into a toy!' exclaimed Abagail, with surprise. 'But I like the real thing much better.'

She placed it back down beside her. The rabbit turned back into a real rabbit.

'Goodbye Abagail,' said the rabbit, and vanished.

'Hmm, most people wouldn't have let that toy rabbit go,' explained Rupert.

'Rupert, you're the only toy boy I need around me at the moment old chum.'

Rupert followed Abagail over to the counter. The manager insisted the meal was complimentary so declined to be paid. Abagail thanked him and they left.

But to everyone there, Abagail walked out of the restaurant alone.

Abagail pulled up out front of her small shop in the heart of Moriset. She locked her car door, then made her way carefully over the brand‑new footpath to her shop’s front door. As she was unlocking it, Jacob came to be standing beside her.

“Hello Abagail,” said Jacob.

“Hi Jacob, come in and take a seat. I’ll be with you shortly.”

Jacob nodded and followed her in. He began reading the posters of astrology and planting guides on the walls while Abagail turned off the alarm. She went about her morning routine: turned on the lights, turned on her old‑fashioned answering machine and the kettle, turned on her cash register and put some cash and coins in it. When she was ready, she waved Jacob over.

He pulled up a chair and sat nervously watching her. He was confused as Abagail began talking to someone he couldn’t see. After a minute, Abagail finished talking and took a sip of her tea.

“Okay,” she began. “Apparently the time is right. We’re going to solve this problem for you today, Jacob.”

“Really? Are you serious? That’s great!” celebrated Jacob.

Abagail looked extremely serious. She did not smile. She did not comment. She simply took another sip and looked intently at Jacob.

“Is something wrong?” asked Jacob, unsure.

“Yes. Frankly, Jacob, yes… You might not like the end result, but there’s no other answer but this answer. Today. Soon.”

“Okay,” nodded Jacob. “I’m ready.”

“But not yet. Not until midday. So if you would be so kind as to come back then, we can… bring this unfortunate situation to a close.”

Jacob slowly nodded, stood from the chair and left the shop.

+

The morning passed by without much fuss. Customers came in for readings or to buy crystals, Tarot cards, gems, clothing or jewelry. Just before twelve, Abagail said goodbye to a reluctant client. She finally had to ask her to leave because she had to close shop in five minutes, she explained. She finally left.

Four minutes later, Abagail noticed Jacob standing out front. She went and closed the back door and turned off some lights. As Jacob entered the shop, Abagail came out from the back storeroom.

“Don’t sit down, Jacob,” she said.

Jacob jumped back up.

“We’re going for a drive,” explained Abagail, grabbing a dark coat and her handbag. She set the dial to 12:30 on her door regarding her return.

Jacob followed Abagail outside and waited as she locked the door. She opened the door of her yellow Beetle parked out front, then jumped in quickly before the line of cars reached her. As she expected, Jacob sat ready in the passenger seat. She indicated out onto the road. Not surprisingly, she noticed a black rabbit sitting under a big tree on the side of the road as she drove past Daisy Park.

“Are you taking me back to Lightblue?” asked Jacob, looking at his street sign: Sunnycrest Avenue.

“Yes… and no,” answered Abagail, slightly unsure of what to say. “You see… I sold it.”

“Sold what?” frowned Jacob, looking at his house as they drove past with Lightblue missing.

“Where the hell is my car?” demanded Jacob angrily.

“I sold it,” said Abagail easily.

She looked at Jacob, who was staring menacingly at her.

“What in God’s name do you mean you sold it? You can’t! It’s in my name… I want it back. I want it back today. I want you out of my life and I don’t want to see you again.”

“I told you you wouldn’t like it,” laughed Abagail. “But you won’t see me again… I will be out of your life. You can have it back.”

“This isn’t a laughing matter, young lady. I’m dead serious.”

“More than you know… Jacob,” said Abagail, catching the slight shift of attention in Jacob’s eyes.

The yellow Beetle pulled up out front of an old garage. Abagail turned off the car and looked at Jacob.

“Good luck, Jacob. Look over there,” she said, pointing.

Jacob could see Lightblue parked in the workshop.

“Go on. I told you today, and the time is right.”

Jacob looked at Abagail, then back at his car. He opened the door, climbed out, and closed it. Abagail started the car and drove smartly away.

“Hey! Abagail, wait!” yelled Jacob.

He watched until the yellow Beetle was out of sight. Jacob cleared his throat and listened to the sound of his cowboy boots jingling on the pavement as he set off, determined to repossess his beloved Lightblue.

As he neared the workshop, he heard someone whistling to himself. The bonnet was up. He came about to confront the man he believed would be that rude tow‑truck driver. The man was bent over tightening some part of the engine under the hood.

“This is my car!” snarled Jacob.

“Jacob! Rupert Richardson. Pleased to meet you.”

Rupert was dressed in a pair of dark blue overalls. They shook hands.

“Well I’m not. This is my car.”

“Of course it is. Abagail only said what I had asked her to say. I needed your full attention. I’ll explain later. Here’s your paperwork. Take a look!”

He watched Jacob reading.

“It’s a surprise. It’s all in running order again. And may I say, what a fine car it is. Purrs like a kitten now. Ah… just lovely,” he admired.

“Ah… huh… okay. I’m a little confused. The paperwork says it’s roadworthy again. And how did you fix the door?”

“Yes, doesn’t it look like new now? Not a scratch… not one.”

“I can’t believe it,” smiled Jacob, rubbing his hands over the door. “It’s… it’s like a new Lightblue!”

“Ah! And…” said Rupert, rushing around to start the engine. “Listen!”

Jacob walked back to the front and stood there in wonder, listening to it.

“Sounds great!” agreed Jacob.

“That’s settled then. Let’s take it for a spin. You drive. I’ll sit in the back.”

“Ah, yeah… why not,” chuckled Jacob.

Lightblue reversed out of the garage and onto the road.

“If you could head over to Daisy Park, please, Jacob. There is someone there we need to pick up.”

Jacob turned the car about and headed for home.

“Daisy Park? That’s where Carol’s ashes were placed,” said Jacob.

“Yes, I know. That’s where we’re going,” replied Rupert plainly.

“Well, I’d rather not. I think I’ll just drop you off here. I’ll be taking Lightblue back home with me.”

Rupert said nothing as they turned into Sunnycrest Avenue.

“I can call you a cab once home,” explained Jacob apologetically.

“That won’t be necessary,” remarked Rupert calmly.

Jacob pulled the indicator handle down, but it didn’t work. He tried the brake pedal, but that didn’t work either. He desperately tried to change gears down, but they wouldn’t engage.

“My God!” shuddered Jacob. “What the hell have you done! We’re going to die!”

Lightblue indicated, stopped, then turned onto the main road by itself, heading for Daisy Park.

“It’s funny you mentioned we’re going to die, because that’s why I’m here, Jacob.”

Jacob swung about with confusion all over his face.

“You see, Jacob. I hate to be the bearer of bad news but… the truth is… I’m a ghost hunter. I’m hired by the Council of Fariddion to collect those lost souls who don’t know they’re already departed. I’m never good at explaining this part.”

“No… no, this is a dream,” stammered Jacob, watching as Lightblue turned onto Daisy Park Road. “How are you doing this? HOW??”

Jacob felt a pain on the side of his head. It felt damp. When he looked at his fingers, it was blood.

“It will all make sense shortly,” said Rupert gently. “I do apologise. It helps if I have you in a fully heightened state.”

“No, you’re not getting it. I hired Abagail to speak with Carol. Carol’s dead, and she’s trying to contact me,” explained Jacob.

“Yes… she is. And here she is,” pointed Rupert.

Jacob swung back around. Up ahead he watched as his wife Carol stood under an old tree holding a black rabbit. Beside her was a tall young woman with long blonde hair, who accepted the rabbit from Carol as she hurried over and jumped in.

“Jacob!” she cried, throwing her arms around him.

“Carol!” he cried. “You can see me?”

“Yes, I can. I’ve been looking for you,” she smiled, wiping tears away.

They held each other in a long embrace.

“When the time is right. The time is right,” smiled Rupert, getting out of the car.

“Where are we going?” asked Jacob, turning about to look at Rupert with sincere gratitude all over his face.

Rupert held the door open, bent down and grinned at Jacob.

“Go wherever you want, sir. And have a great day, Madam!”

And with that, Rupert slammed the door shut.

Rupert, Astar and Tibbar rabbit watched Lightblue drive away, and slowly it too disappeared.

Mariana and Brutus.

Abagail came out of the storeroom the next morning to find Rupert standing next to Astar. She was holding Tibbar rabbit. Abagail let out a sigh and brought another chair over for Astar. She then went to the front door and turned the OPEN sign over to CLOSED, just as a customer arrived.

"Sorry, back in twenty minutes," explained Abagail.

"No problem," smiled the young man. "I'll just get a coffee."

"Thank you. Make sure it's organic!" called out Abagail, and slowly walked over to her desk and sat down.

"Right," said Abagail. "It went well?"

"Like a charm," grinned Rupert. "Though at one point I think he had decided to hit me. They went off happily together and my tinkering tools set them on a collision course with the afterlife. My guess is they didn't even notice the tunnel of love, or as you like to call it, the North Moriset Tunnel, which led them straight to heaven. Most likely gazing lovingly into each other's eyes without even noticing their earthbound days had come to an end. Very odd though. Nevertheless, angels have their ways. And we like to win in the end. Don't we, Astar?" asked Rupert.

"As long as the battle is just," smiled Astar. "Indeed."

"So what now?" asked Abagail. "I did as you asked. I think I did a fair job helping you with Jacob and Carol?"

"Absolutely sensational!" grinned Rupert.

"Do you think you could do it again?" asked Tibbar rabbit.

"Good help is hard to find. Very hard to find."

"What again? More lost spirits?" asked Abagail. "It takes up a lot of time... Hmmm... my customers don't like being turned away too often."

"Of course we understand, Abagail. We would compensate you financially and try to make it so it doesn't interfere too much with the running of your humble gorgeous little shop here. It doesn't have to be every week."

"Once a month?" asked Astar, leaning forward to admire the beautiful green jade stone Abagail had on display.

"Well..." pondered Abagail. Though she was showing them some annoyance from her face, she had felt it had made her week a lot more entertaining. It wasn't every day she faced lost souls. Plus, she enjoyed power.

"Okay team," said Abagail, nodding once. "Whenever really. If I need a break I'll let you know. But I want your promise I will not be placed under too high an expectation. Seeing and hearing lost souls takes concentration."

"A huge amount of concentration. That's why I came to you, Abagail," said Rupert with a smile. "You, young lady, are the best!"

"Oh sure. How about Wilbur Warburton?" smiled Abagail, briefly.

Astar laughed.

"Let's not get carried away," chuckled Rupert. "Right. That's settled." They both stood up. Rupert bowed, while Astar shared a cute grin holding Tibbar rabbit with his pink nose wiggling constantly. They slowly disappeared.

"Hmmm," thought Abagail, walking towards the locked door as the young man returned with coffee in hand.

"Organic," he smiled on entering.

As Abagail placed her small Wizards and Witches sign out onto the footpath tight up against the glass, she couldn't help but notice a short woman colourfully dressed with a large green hat pulled low over her face wearing noisy white high-heeled shoes, heading purposefully in her direction. In fact, Abagail couldn't take her eyes off her as she stopped right in front of her with a half gritty smile.

"You're the medium, right?" asked the woman before letting out a large expulsion of air.

"Yes, that's me," replied Abagail, plainly.

"Good," she nodded. "I need you to get rid of someone for me."

The large dark glasses she wore couldn't hide the heavy makeup and her strong attractive face. Her arms looked slightly muscular. Abagail could see that she was very fit.

"I'm not a hitman," replied Abagail, holding her ground.

"You will want to be by the time I'm finished telling you about my dead husband who won't leave me alone."

Abagail looked over the woman's shoulder to see Rupert give a quick thumbs up, then disappear.

"Mhmm. Well... looks like you've got yourself a hitman, woman."

"Right," nodded the woman.

Abagail followed her back inside and was starting to feel more like a psychiatrist than a medium, as once again she offered the woman a seat. She looked reluctant to sit at first. Just as she was about to, a delivery man with an offsider wheeled two brand new brown leather chairs on wheels across the wooden floor to the glass cabinet.

"Good morning," smiled the busy-looking worker. "Abagail Abercrombie?"

"Yes," agreed Abagail, staring at the chairs questioningly.

"Special delivery from one Mr. Rupert Richardson. Sign here please."

Abagail signed.

"Thanks. Have a good day," he smiled. Both young men left at once. One of their many missions accomplished.

"Okay..." smiled Abagail. "Pull up a chair." She smirked.

"My name is Mariana Banks. I'm thirty-three. A past Olympic weightlifting competitor in the 71kg category class in Paris. Though they're changing classes for the upcoming LA Olympics. So I'll be lifting in the 77kg class. I want to win gold. That's my dream. I've got two years left in me before I give it away. On the 27th of October, I'll be competing in the World Championships. I need to be able to eat, sleep, practice, and exercise on time. I need peace and quiet. I don't need my dead husband constantly appearing around me wherever I go. He comes to me in my dreams most of all. That way he can talk to me. He won't stop with suggestions and advice. It goes on and on... just a moment," asked Mariana, pulling out her phone and showing Abagail a picture of a large man. Dark hair and beard. Brown eyes and a smile that looked totally confident. If anything he reminded Abagail of Brutus from the Popeye cartoon.

Mariana suddenly stood up. She dropped her thick long white woollen coat to the floor. Mariana now exposed her tight blue jeans and a skin-tight dark green vest with patches on it. She raised up her arms and brought them down with clenched fists to expand her incredible muscles. She grunted twice for effect.

Abagail looked amazed by her figure. She was impressed but personally had not a shred of interest in ever lifting anything heavier than her fat cat Roper. It was at that moment that Brutus appeared beside her watching Mariana's pose.

"He's here!" explained Abagail, slightly startled by the giant.

"Of course he is," frowned Mariana. "Marcus can't get enough of this, can you?" snarled Mariana, flexing her muscles in every direction.

"Good grief," whispered Abagail to herself.

"Good girl," shouted Marcus. "Flex more, work harder. Your anger will bring you gold. GOLD IS WHAT WE WANT!" Marcus laughed with uncontrolled joy.

"Where is he?" frowned Mariana.

"Ahh, he's directly to your left," said Abagail, helpfully. Abagail now felt under her chair and found what she was looking for. She raised her chair a little and tilted it back. "I may as well feel comfortable," whispered Abagail.

"See what you've made me do, Marcus? Don't you get it? I need to be left alone!" Mariana turned to look at Abagail. "What is he saying, Abagail?"

Abagail repeated word for word.

"I'll never leave you alone. You're my wife. You're my property. Wherever you go I'll be there. Forever and ever. I've invested my life with you and you alone. You'll never get rid of me, Mariana. Never!" explained Abagail.

And Marcus disappeared.

"You see now what I'm up against?" said a clearly exhausted Mariana.

A young couple entered the shop and began browsing. Mariana picked up her coat, wrapped it tightly around herself, then slumped back down into the brand new office chair, a shadow of her former self.

"He's gone now," said Abagail, shocked, alarmed and now totally up to date with the struggle which Mariana faced.

"Can we have these please?" asked the young couple, placing two Wizards and Witches shirts onto the glass counter. Three packets of incense sticks. A garden planting guide and a multi-colored headscarf.

Abagail placed the items into a Spiritual Gifts bag, then happily passed it over. Sanity for a moment, thought Abagail.

Abagail watched the door close, sat back into her chair and wondered.

"How did he die?" asked Abagail, plainly.

"He was shot."

"You didn't?" wondered Abagail.

Now Mariana laughed.

"Oh..." she laughed. "Sometimes I wish I had." She stopped laughing. "Quite a lot lately. But no. He was killed by a rival competitor's husband. My Brutus couldn't control his sexual urges. But that's another story completely. They're both in jail now. It's sad really. At first I was overwhelmed with happiness that Marcus loved me so much. I had never found a man who doted on me so much. He showered me in roses and gifts. He took me everywhere. When I first said I wanted to visit Mom alone, he insisted on driving me. Friends, insist. Work, insist. Training, insist. Shopping, running, showering, sleeping, cooking, eating, everything. The day I demanded he let me go out by myself he couldn't. Then I began sneaking out from work at lunchtime. Only, he would find me. Confront me. He would tap me on the shoulder to tell me I can't be out without him. I grew to dislike him after that. I focused on lifting. It was the only place he was finally not allowed to attend with me. He argued black and blue with the coaches. Once they mentioned restraining orders and the police, he backed off. He would sit outside in his car counting down the minutes till I came out. All the way home it was question after question and how he could have done it better. And now he's dead. And for eight months he's still there. Every day. Thank G O D... I can't hear him away from my dreams."

They both looked at each other in sudden silence.

"Can you help me?" begged Mariana.

Abagail took a last mouthful of tea and banged it down onto the cabinet.

"Yes I can. Here, write down your details and I'll be in touch tomorrow. I need to talk to my associates about this one."

Mariana brought a card out from her pink sports wallet. It held her contact details through her personal trainer business.

"Here," she said quietly, and slid the card over.

Mariana jumped up, spun about, and walked forcefully to the door. Her loud high-heels pressing into the floorboards did no favours to Abagail's recently expensive re-sand, wax and polish.

*

The afternoon was fairly quiet for a Saturday. At least Clare filled in for Abagail at the shop on a Sunday. Her one day off a week. Except when closed or Clare was available for a fill-in shift or extra hours during the week.

Abagail locked the door and hurried into her yellow Beetle as a late afternoon sun shower partially washed her car.

"You know, Abagail," grinned Rupert. "Sun showers represent hope, a powerful mix of joy and sorrow. A divine blessing of opposite emotions."

Abagail clicked in her seatbelt and looked thoughtful.

"Where do you get all these sayings?"

"It's a gift, granted to me by the high order of Fariddion... or I just eavesdrop and steal them." Rupert chuckled.

"I thought as much," smiled Abagail, as she indicated out between the slow Sunday afternoon traffic.

"I noticed your thumbs up today," said Abagail. "And thank you for the chairs."

"Are they comfy?" he hoped.

"Super comfy. My backside didn't know how hard it was travelling."

"Ah, simply scintillating seating, love it." Rupert grinned. "And how did you find Mariana?"

"Strong physically and mentally," decided Abagail, turning right towards her house.

"And Marcus?"

Abagail cleared her throat. "He's a monster."

"Hmm," grunted Rupert. "A bully, a narcissist, a predator... but not a murderer. But he would have been."

Abagail pulled to a stop behind two other cars waiting at the stop sign for her turn to turn left.

"I'm not surprised," said Abagail, rubbing her face and moving her Beetle up to the line.

The gap came and the 1600cc engine quickly crossed over, chuffing its fast presto beat.

"I suppose you have a plan of how to sort this out, because I could not."

Abagail pushed on the metal bar for the horn, beeped twice, and waved to a young woman who waved at her noticeable car.

"Not what? Of course you can. You could do it in your sleep," protested Rupert happily.

Abagail slowed down to enter her driveway. Her house was hidden behind a high hedge. Large leafy trees extended back towards the house. The gardens encasing the one-acre property were measured and once pennant winners. There were no gates. In fact she had taken the two old rusted gates off with her own tools.

The leafy driveway blew little leaves over the Beetle with a gust of wind, rain and finally sunshine as they came to a stop. She carefully lined up the yellow Beetle with the old little wooden carport and parked up safely.

"Always a delight to be here. Such a remarkable property," admired Rupert, quickly climbing out.

Abagail hurried up the four wooden steps onto the porch. She withdrew the house key from her handbag and quickly let herself and her guest inside.

Rushing forward, Roper brushed against her legs.

"Roper!" Abagail smiled. "How are you, baby? Did you miss me?"

Roper meowed and headed for the empty food bowl. Roper stopped and looked at Rupert. His dark coat clean and long.

"Hello, you solivagant soul. Hungry would be my guess?" Rupert grinned, as Roper attempted to rub at his legs first, before just meowing.

Abagail went to her fridge. She brought out some tinned cat food. Grabbed a small box of dry cat food and placed some into each side of the double bowl.

Routine completed, Abagail walked over the wooden floorboards onto the rug and jumped onto her couch, suggesting Rupert take a seat.

"So Rupert. Was there a clue in saying I could do it in my sleep?"

Rupert pointed at Abagail with an outstretched arm.

"Your powers of deduction never cease to amaze me. You're a modern-day Sherlock Holmes," he grinned and rubbed his hands together.

"Elementary, my dear Rupert," she smiled briefly. "You're an old soul at heart."

"Quite the antediluvian, yes. Now, to answer your question. Sleep. That's how we're going to move the reluctant Marcus on to Fariddion. Or, as you like to refer to him, Brutus."

"Heaven for Brutus hey?" asked Abagail.

"Not in the sense of white clouds and just a holy man in a big golden chair, but a world complete with all. And him too. I'll tell you more about that some other time. Now, what we'd like you to do for Mariana is this."

Abagail sat back with a cup of tea and listened.

*

Abagail looked at Rupert, Astar and Tibbar rabbit sitting in the chairs around her bed. Abagail was dressed in a navy-blue sports tracksuit, her sneakers beside the bed. Her grandfather clock rung seven at night.

"I never go to bed this early," complained Abagail. "I just wish Mariana didn't have to wake at the crack of dawn every day."

"You're doing so well," Astar giggled. "For someone going to bed in a tracksuit."

"At least it's navy-blue," informed Abagail. "If it had been pink I wouldn't have put it on."

"Okay then, my raven-haired rocket," smiled Rupert, getting up. "We'll leave you to it and see you before you know it. Don't forget all I told you."

"I won't."

Abagail frowned then glared at them unimpressed as they vanished.

"Hmmm. I have no idea how I'm going to fall asleep. I'm too worked up," Abagail complained.

Abagail felt her eyelids begin to close and almost instantly she was asleep as Rupert and Astar holding Tibbar appeared again at the bottom of the bed.

"Ready?" asked Tibbar.

Abagail couldn't respond, as a swirling orange and white light catapulted her into Mariana's bedroom.

Abagail looked around the unfamiliar room. It was large but so plain. A king-size bed, two bedside tables, a French dresser and a modern-looking large light-green beanbag were all that occupied this large cream carpeted room big enough for a school class. Abagail noticed two red dumbbells in front of the walk-in wardrobe. She went to move them but instead of struggling they felt as if they held no weight at all.

Mariana was fast asleep. The plan was quick. The plan was cheeky. Abagail was the bait. Any strong woman in a tracksuit was irresistible to Brutas. Unfortunately for Brutus, jealous husbands have consequences.

Abagail turned around to find Brutas standing watching her as expected.

"And who do we have here then?" he grinned, looking down upon Abagail.

"Just your run-of-the-mill power lifter. You look like you could manage a bit of power lifting yourself, fella," said Abagail, running her fingers down his long muscular right forearm playfully. She tucked her fingers back into a fist, punched his shoulder, then walked straight past Brutas to head downstairs towards the gym.

"Come on big boy. I'll show you how much I can lift," bragged Abagail.

"You don't look like a power lifter," said Brutus with a gruff. Swinging his large arms back and forth he strode arrogantly behind Abagail. "How much can you lift over your head?" he demanded.

"177.6," quipped Abagail, skipping down the stairs and over to stand in front of 177.6 on the bar.

Brutus watched as Abagail effortlessly at first, then with all her concentration refocused, to slowly but surely lift this astounding weight up and over her head. A hallway clock chimed 8pm as Abagail pushed the weight back down to the floor.

"I need a sauna after that. Care to join me?" said Abagail, remembering her lines. The act so much fun.

Brutus looked flabbergasted at the numbers on the side of the weights. He followed Abagail's world record-holder saunter to the sauna, unable to take his eyes off her. She turned back towards him, motioned him over, then opened the sauna door and walked inside.

Brutus threw off his tight-fitting collared sports top and headed excitedly over. He hesitated, looked around, pulled the door open and quickly went inside, closing it behind him.

The sauna was dense in thick steam as he could partially make out the figure of the woman in the black tracksuit sitting at the back on the top wooden bench. Brutus climbed up and placed his arms around her. As Brutus pulled her forward, he was dumbfounded as a man's face appeared from the thick steam.

"Perhaps you should leave those on," said the man.

Brutus leapt up in shock.

"Rupert Richardson. Pleased to meet you!" Rupert shook Brutus's limp hand.

"Who the hell are you? And where did she go?" demanded Brutus, looking around the steamy wooden room.

"Here... allow me," informed Rupert, throwing a cup of water onto the hot rocks.

To Brutus's surprise the steam turned with several slight twists of swirling orange. Brutus spun about and looked trapped to Rupert.

"No... I don't want to leave her," he snarled, and headed over to leave the sauna.

Brutus couldn't find the door handle in the incredibly steamed-up sauna.

"Where's the damn wooden latch. Shit... come on! Come ON...!" he shouted with rage.

Brutus began throwing his weight against the door trying to break it open.

"Allow me," said Rupert.

The door flung open.

Brutus charged out into a place he could not return from. In front of him were his family, his guides, and several well-built strong men from past days. Surprised by his peaceful emotions, Brutus felt no hesitation as he excitedly walked over to greet them all.

A month had passed since Abagail's encounter with Brutus. Work had been fruitful, though she had had to invest many extra hours into keeping her shop, Spiritual Gifts, heading in the right direction. Clare had been sick for two weeks straight. Roper had been sick too. But that always happened when he ate too much. Her phone rang.

"Hello, Spiritual Gifts, Abagail speaking..."

"Don't look now," said Rupert in her ear. "But isn't that Wilbur Warburton at your door?"

Abagail raised her eyes quickly to see Wilbur reading her opening-hours sign.

"What's he doing here?" demanded Abagail, astounded.

"Maybe he wants to talk to you about that levitating experience a while back, or maybe... you are about to find out," said Rupert with a chuckle as he disconnected.

The doorbell tinkled as Wilbur strode into the shop with a look of uncertainty that didn't match his confident stride. Abagail watched him with intrepidation. She waited for his glamorous eyes to pierce through hers. Instead, Wilbur detoured sharply to his left to study the horoscope chart on the wall. Two other customers ambled in and browsed about. Soon Wilbur sidestepped over to the display cabinet in front of Abagail. He briefly flashed his eyes upon her with a quick hello, then continued to look aimlessly upon her expensive silver jewellery and display trinkets.

As Abagail watched him squirming with uncertainty she could take it no more. She had to know.

"Do you like my sunflower?" asked Abagail.

A slightly annoyed expression passed over Wilbur's strong face as he looked upon the wilted sunflower. A black cloth materialised over it in a flash. Briskly it was whipped away to reveal a vibrant replacement. Wilbur's strong mouth gripped into a respectful smirk as he slowly raised his eyes to meet Abagail's. They looked upon each other a long moment before Wilbur stood upright at six foot two and stretched out his tanned long arm to gently hold Abagail's hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Wilbur. Wilbur Warburton. Have we met?" Expectation rested on Wilbur's words.

"Abagail Abercrombie... I'm the owner of this little shop, Mr. Warburton. No, we haven't met."

"Please, call me Wilbur, Abagail. It's exquisite... really charming," he continued, still holding her hand. "And the shop..."

They shared a polite short laugh. At this point Abagail decided to withdraw her hand. Possibly she had overdone it with her sunflower trick. She looked at his eyes again then back down. She had to stay professional even though a part of her was annoyed for letting go of the hand of the man she had fancied for over four years now.

"Thank you, Wilbur. How may I help you today?"

A vacant expression passed over Wilbur's face as he remembered why he was here.

"Ah... I was hoping you could help me in regards to booking an appointment with your medium?"

"Of course, Wilbur," Abagail replied happily. "A Tarot reading?"

"Possibly... um... does your medium just do consultations? I have a pressing matter I wish to discuss. Possibly this Thursday at eleven am?"

Abagail scratched out Penny, her regular, and placed her into the twelve o'clock column. In the eleven o'clock time slot she now wrote: Wilbur Warburton.

"Done. Eleven it is," said Abagail, giving a brief smile.

"Excellent. I hope to meet you again too, Miss Abercrombie?"

"Please, call me Abagail. I know we will, because I am the medium here as well, Wilbur."

Wilbur Warburton flashed a complete smile over Abagail, flicked his fingers up in a departing manner, turned about and headed for the door.

*

Wednesday night saw Abagail lying in bed at the end of the day. The moon shone gently into her room. The constellations spread out above. A dim light was all she needed as she tried to concentrate on the video she was watching. But... her upcoming appointment with Wilbur Warburton was front and center of her thoughts. She ditched her black silk nightie and pulled her chocolate silk sheet up over her cool tired body. As much as she wanted to dismiss it, Wilbur was holding her in his arms. Stroking her hair, brushing her cheek. Their lips moving ever closer together...

Abagail jumped as the doorbell tinkled and in walked Wilbur Warburton dressed in dark slacks, shoes, and a light green shirt with white polkadots. He carried a large old brown mismatching suitcase. His rich curly dark brown hair bounced along with his confident stride as he reached the counter.

"Good morning, Wilbur," greeted Abagail with a smile.

"Good morning, Abagail," nodded Wilbur.

"Would you like a tea?" asked Abagail.

"Ginger and lemon?" enquired Wilbur.

Straight away Abagail could sense that there was tension in his reserved engagement. Three ladies all walked in at once as Clare appeared from the change-room to greet them.

"Here for the special ladies?" asked Clare brightly.

"Yes, we are," they replied.

"This way please, Wilbur," suggested Abagail, leading him into a small room draped in mystical materials, posters, and a black ceiling with plastic stars and planets abound. The Medium Room.

Abagail sat down purposely into one of the red studded leather chairs and pointed to the other. Wilbur followed her direction and slowly seated himself. He crossed his legs and looked about. There was an old worn black wooden table between them, higher than a coffee table. Abagail took a deep breath and lit some incense beside her on an elegant wooden elephant's trunk.

"We can begin now," said Abagail seriously.

"Well, there's been two things troubling me of late, Abagail."

"Yes," replied Abagail, sitting back with her legs crossed. Without drawing attention she adjusted her revealing black skirt a little lower, her flat-bottom dark pumps built for comfort.

Wilbur chuckled a little.

"I am still mystified by what happened at the Dawn Theatre last month. I think I've picked up some extra power of some kind."

Abagail felt disappointed. She thought it was a ghost. A past deceased loved one. The ghost of a season's past. Anything but this. Abagail sighed. Wilbur noticed this. His face tightened as he lifted the old suitcase onto the table, flicked back the latches, and threw open the lid.

"But this is my main trouble," muttered Wilbur.

Abagail leaned forward and looked into the large old brown suitcase. Within it lay a puppet-like doll. It lay on a soft silky black cushion with a small red silk pillow.

"What's this?" asked Abagail, looking up quickly to meet the full force of Wilbur's deathly stare.

"Heather."

Abagail studied its features. Dark straight shoulder-length hair cut with a very straight fringe. Large attractive dark eyes. Porcelain white skin. The slightest hint of red on her cheeks. Highlight. Dark red lips. The doll's face looked older than a teenager's.

"So, I see... okay... this is something I didn't expect," admitted Abagail. "I've never seen one up close. Huh... she's very cute."

"She comes alive," said Wilbur without warning. "She's possessive. Powerful. Clever... let me tell you a story."

He took a sip of his ginger and lemon tea.

"I used to use Heather a lot in the past. It was fun." He didn't smile. "I sat her on my lap during shows... a few jokes... a few remarks to the audience to engage and fill time. Then it changed one night..."

Wilbur took a big mouthful.

"A heckler launched into a tirade about what a boring showman I was. Heather started to respond through me. That's the only way I can describe it. Light at first. Then... words came out of my mouth that weren't mine. Stinging, vicious, calculated so intensely that the woman left crying and the audience were left laughing in stitches. After that, if anyone dared criticise me she took me over, Abagail. I heard my words. I saw me say it. But it wasn't me. The story about my doll started getting around and people would say things just to get a reaction from Heather. On the third night Heather screamed and the man belittling me clutched at his chest and fell over gasping for breath. The audience scattered. The manager nearly fired me that night. 'No more Heather!' he insisted. 'Stick to the magic.' I did just that."

Wilbur coughed and took another long sip. The eggshell China cup returned to the table, followed by a quick brush of his fingers through his curls before he continued. Abagail concentrated not to imagine herself running her hands through those curly locks.

"Do you believe what I'm saying, Abagail?" he asked.

"I do believe you," replied Abagail plainly.

"I woke the next morning to find Heather sitting in my chair looking sad. She turned to look at me. Terrified, I went to leave but I managed only a few steps before being stopped. I was forced to pick her up and sit her on my lap. I couldn't move as her deep croaky sweet mischievous voice insisted not to let her go. We would never part. I was hers. Hers, Abagail! That hasn't happened in a long time—"

"But you always seem so happy and confident, Wilbur. I've been at your shows. You don't use her."

"Heather... when the case is open refer to her as Heather... please," begged Wilbur.

Abagail nodded slowly. "Heather."

"No, I don't, that's true. For I sent her away. Far away across the sea. But last week I woke in the night. She was sitting on the bottom of my bed watching me. God knows how she came back. I need help. I need—"

Abagail and Wilbur looked on in dismay as Heather slowly sat up from the suitcase. She looked cute and harmless as she studied Abagail. Wilbur now picked Heather up and slowly sat down with her on his knee. Abagail could see that Wilbur was possessed. Still there, still here, but in a complete trance.

"Hello Abagail," whispered Heather quietly. "You seem nice. I hope we can be friends..."

Abagail didn't answer. This time the voice was coming from Heather. Wilbur looked on, expressionless.

"Please don't try to break Wilbur and I up. I need him... he needs me. I would never hurt Wilbur. I know you like Wilbur too... I can see it in you. As long as you're nice to Wilbur I will let you see him. Wilbur always forgets all of these moments. There's some things Wilbur does for me that he never recollects."

"Wilbur doesn't seem to have a choice," said Abagail. "He came here to tell me something that was upsetting him. You are that something."

Even though Abagail was terrified, she had faith in her backup team, whom she hoped were soon to appear. She needed support.

"Hmm. I'm sorry. I like him too much to let him leave me. It's important you know this. You have now met me. I—"

Abagail watched as Heather looked around, starting to sense something. Slowly her head turned back to watch Abagail in silence. Her head snapped to the side with a clink.

"You're with them!" accused Heather, her hand slowly rising to point at Abagail. Heather laughed. "Te he he he he he... oh... I am more impressed with you now, Abagail... much more."

"Who's them?" asked Abagail, testing Heather's abilities.

"Come, Wilbur darling sugar sugar," said Heather. "Time to go home."

Wilbur stood in a trance and placed Heather into the suitcase.

"No! Wilbur, wake up!" pleaded Abagail.

Heather sat bolt upright and raised her chin. Abagail was flung back into her chair. Fairly quickly she was placed into the same trance as Wilbur. Heather climbed down from the suitcase and jumped up onto Abagail's lap. She gently stroked her thigh and smiled at Wilbur.

"Wouldn't you like this one, Wilbur darling sugar sugar...? Her hair's dark. She wears black. She has hmm... should we take her home with us? I'm sure you'd like her to help keep us fed and wash us and clean and... it would be nice... potential," she murmured, tapping Abagail's bare knee with one porcelain finger. "But you're not ready, poor lonely Abagail. Not yet."

Wilbur quickly picked up Heather and held Heather and Abagail in a vacant embrace. Abagail slowly placed her arms around Wilbur.

"She's very tall too, Wilbur. Just like you, darling sugar sugar."

The rain fell outside, tapping in a dull roar over the roof of the shop. Creeks and pops echoed around the room from the rain tumbling as it subsided. Heather looked at both of them with interest and fondness.

"Should we take her home now, Wilbur...? You have so much to do at home. You need help. And fun together. I will enjoy watching you both."

"Ah... how much discount can I give Michelle on this dress, Abagail?" asked Clare, as Abagail led Wilbur towards the front door of Spiritual Gifts.

Abagail stopped and turned about.

"Not on that dress. It's too pretty for a discount," replied Abagail, heading out the door, leaving Clare and her customers in surprise.

"Looks like she has other things on her mind," said Michelle with a giggle. "It is pretty. Should I take it?"

"I'm sorry," said Wilbur in a mumble to Abagail, as they walked across the street, stopping traffic as they headed to the old woods. Abagail could hear Wilbur, yet she couldn't talk. The path was well kept with old trees turning and twisting amongst the stones and bracken as they entered ever deeper.

A rabbit hopped out and stood looking at Wilbur who led the way. The rabbit sat upright as Wilbur, still in a trance, was about to step on it. Wilbur's leg stopped dead still. In fact they became both this way like two statues.

Astar appeared and entered Abagail's body. Abagail turned around and walked back to her shop.

Rupert, dressed this time as a Purple Wizard, waved a purple crystal over the suitcase. Wilbur fell in a heap to the forest floor, unconscious. Rupert flipped open the suitcase but it was empty.

"Huh!" said Rupert happily. "You've picked up some new tricks, Heather."

"There!" said Tibbar.

"Ah yes," agreed Rupert, pulling a dark crystal from within his robe. He extended his arm and made circular figure-eight motions towards an area just off the path.

Heather appeared in a dark cloak with gold inlay.

"You look almost human-like, Heather. Still as cute as ever. Why be so shy?" Rupert smiled.

"I like my privacy, Rupert Richardson... You don't like my choice of a new companion for Wilbur?"

Rupert sensed greater power within Heather than he had encountered before.

"Not Abagail... she's already been chosen by us as our new companion. You see, it's first in first served, first come, best dressed..." Rupert took a big breath. "The early bird gets the worm, dear Heather."

"I would treat her better than a yucky worm... Wilbur's house is a fine dwelling," said Heather, smiling happily.

"Ah..." Rupert cleared his throat. "No."

"We could share her," insisted Heather.

"Not for sale, rent, hire or pre-order, dearest Heather."

"I want her!" snapped Heather. "Wilbur wants her!"

A giant white owl as big as a bull came crashing through the thin high branches to rest on a low thick branch a short distance away.

"So even the guardian owls of Fariddion have come to like Abagail too. You know I don't like the owls, Tibbar. They bite and scratch... and tear... their talons crack you!"

"We don't want to upset you, Heather," said Tibbar. "This encounter has gone far enough. Leave. Leave Abagail to us. Last chance."

"Oh well, Te he he he he," laughed Heather. "Chances!"

She wiggled her fingers goodbye and disappeared.

"Well, we'll have to find you some extra big grubs tonight for dinner then," said Rupert to one of the guardian owls of Fariddion, as it shook its massive feathery mane.

"Her power has grown most impressively," said Tibbar, hopping about to face Rupert.

"Hmm..." agreed Rupert with concern.

Once inside the shop Astar left Abagail.

"Bye Abagail," waved Astar, disappearing.

"Are you sure I can't have a little bit off the dress?" begged Michelle.

"This dress?" asked Abagail, turning to notice her friendly customers' faces. It suddenly dawned on her that Wilbur and Heather were gone. She turned and headed for the Medium Room.

"Abagail!" called out Clare. "What about the dress?"

"Thirty percent off too," she said, walking quickly on.

"That's a change of tune," laughed the ladies. "Must've had a quick bite to eat."

They laughed.

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.

“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.

GIRL Friends

Abagail watched Clare busily rummaging about the shop serving and selling, while she sat in her yellow Beetle which was parked right out front. Clare was the rare type that couldn't sit still at work and wasn't happy unless she was nearly perspiring. Abagail hesitated to start her car. She was looking forward to lunch with Rupert, though on studying her own face in the mirror, realised she needed a moment to ground herself. She closed her eyes and started some deep breathing exercises. The sound of the gentle rolling traffic, a distant dog barking, even the sound of children playing in the park next to the woods across the road, relieved her frazzled state. Within a handful of minutes she expelled a welcome sigh, opened her eyes and, with a slight smile returning to her face, turned to see Heather at her window smiling without showing any teeth. Anxiety leapt up again, but this time Abagail bit down on her weakness with a steely determination to succeed. Laugh or die. No complaining. No hate. No locking the door.

Abagail waved for her to get in, causing Heather to open the door and sit in the passenger seat. Heather looked slightly uncertain for once as she waited for Abagail to speak. Abagail had not noticed uncertainty in her before. She curtailed the need to correct Heather about needing more time and went with Rupert's advice, ready or not.

‘Heather,’ said Abagail calmly.

‘Yes?’ enquired Heather, still uncertain, her hands clasped together.

‘I have decided to be your girlfriend,’ announced Abagail with a reserved delivery.

‘Ohh… thank you. I had no idea who else I could have found if you didn't agree.’

‘And if I'd refused the offer?’ asked Abagail, looking down on her new little fiery friend. ‘Would you have locked me in your dungeon?’ Abagail could see that Heather’s hands were now free and easy.

‘I don't have a dungeon, Abagail… it's better this way so I'm not tempted to use spells to achieve my goals. An old habit I am used to. I know all too well the feeling of being trapped in a dungeon.’ Abagail frowned. Bad choice of words. Her second thought was, had she been unwittingly placed in a spell? Unsure, she let out a short expulsion of air and started the Beetle.

‘I love this old machine of yours,’ said Heather, never showing her teeth. ‘Wilbur's sports car is sleek and new but this feels… fun, in its own way.’ Abagail took a deep breath and headed off with the Goddess of Darkness rubbing her legs, towards Tremeloes.

‘Wilbur often eats at Tremeloes,’ explained Heather. Abagail waited for the lights to turn green before turning right.

‘Wilbur usually likes to—’

‘Heather?’ said Abagail, interrupting.

‘Yes,’ replied Heather coldly, unaccustomed to being cut off mid‑sentence.

‘Is it okay if we don't talk about Wilbur today… I just want to interact with… our stuff… you know. What we're doing now. What I can teach you.’ The Beetle quickened and headed along the coast road to Tremeloes, about a mile ahead on the right overlooking the sea. Abagail smiled briefly at this powerfully attractive woman and hoped this lunch would go smoothly. What could go wrong?

‘Like what?’ asked Heather, constantly checking her face and touching it while adjusting her pose in the vanity mirror attached to the sun‑visor.

‘Well… when we arrive at the restaurant we have to wait to be seated, taken to our table. We must be patient and ladylike.’

‘I know all that,’ dismissed Heather.

‘You do?’ wondered Abagail.

‘I might have been cooped up in that suitcase for five years with Wilbur, but he was constantly taking me with him to restaurants… not always by his own adventures,’ she disclosed dryly.

‘They won't like the cloak. No… maybe they will,’ decided Abagail. ‘Clare and I wore them for a Halloween party there last year, and…’

‘And?’ demanded Heather. Then more gently added, ‘Please finish your sentence. The suspense is killing me…’ she quietly chuckled to herself.

‘Halloween is in two weeks. You’d fit in perfectly,’ chuckled Abagail, before realising the danger of making jokes at Heather's expense. Abagail turned to see a little fire in Heather's eyes. They softened and she tapped Abagail's leg twice.

‘Don't worry…’ informed Heather. ‘I'm having fun.’ And for the first time she really smiled at Abagail, who smiled back, as they looked ahead to the fast‑approaching Tremeloes restaurant. An awkward thought crossed her mind as she recalled Heather sitting on her lap tapping her knee.

Abagail parked in her usual spot away from the front and began to get out. She turned to look at Heather who was still constantly checking her face in the mirror.

‘Don't worry, Heather,’ said Abagail.

Heather stopped looking at herself and turned to Abagail.

‘It's just that… I am not used to my face and…’

‘You look divine… come on,’ smiled Abagail, motioning with her head to the direction of the restaurant doors.

Heather chuckled and briskly exited the car reassured.

Heather came to walk along beside Abagail who took her hand a moment.

‘Thanks,’ said Heather.

‘That's okay… as Rupert would say. The food here is out of this world.’

‘So am I… te he, he, he….’ laughed Heather.

They walked the spiral ramp to the front door where a young man stood talking to an older couple. The older couple were shown inside by another waiter hurrying over as the man turned to look at Heather.

‘Good afternoon, ladies. Do you have a reservation?’ He clicked his tablet ready to proceed.

‘I don't know,’ admitted Abagail, seeing no sign of Rupert.

‘What's your name?’ he continued, head down, eyes on his tablet as a group of five arrived behind them.

‘Abagail Abercrombie,’ said Abagail, checking her phone. No text from Rupert.

‘Yes, your table is ready… would you like me to take your cloak?’ asked the man fondly, eyeing a quiet Heather.

‘I would prefer if you didn't,’ replied Heather in a voice that startled the man.

‘No problem, madam. As long as you don't wear the hoodie over your beautiful face it's not a problem. Everyone would love to admire your beauty on such a beautiful day.’

Heather turned to Abagail who was grateful to see her slowly pull it down. Once again Heather's hair fell impeccably into place.

‘Excuse me for asking?’ said a large woman touching Heather on the shoulder. Heather turned about, uncertain.

‘But who does your hair! It's quite different. I was a hairdresser a few years back and well, sorry for intruding, they did an excellent job.’ She smiled. ‘Amazing really.’

‘I do it myself,’ replied Heather, following Abagail into the restaurant behind a waiter. As if by magic her cloak parted down the middle to reveal a very risqué black satin dress. Abagail was amused by the heads that turned and remained fixated on her new friend’s incredible presence. If only they knew, she thought. Waiters stopped and some even bowed as Queen Heather of the Darkness sauntered to her royal table. It wasn't until Abagail reached their table that she realised why everyone was looking.

‘Heather… that dress leaves nothing to the imagination,’ she blushed.

‘How did I do?’ asked Heather.

‘Well…’ breathed out Abagail before laughing. ‘Better than expected, so far.’ She managed to take her eyes off Heather’s figure and turn to follow the waiter up to the table.

Heather slid over into the booth with the ocean directly to her right beyond the long glass window. Abagail stood watching not only Heather, for materialising beside her was Sitting Wolf. By the window on her side now sat Astar with Tibbar Rabbit and directly beside Abagail sat Rupert.

‘Welcome, ladies,’ said Rupert smiling. He was dressed in a tuxedo with slicked‑back dark‑brown hair in a ponytail. Abagail sat down feeling colloquial compared to everyone else. Even Sitting Wolf wore a remarkable array of feathers above a multicoloured woven jacket. Her beige collared top was not like the others.

‘You sit in the darkness on such a bright and beautiful day, Rupert,’ stated Heather chuckling to herself.

‘It's the best I can do to not draw attention to myself, Heather,’ smiled Rupert. ‘For the ladies simply could not resist me.’

‘Or me,’ smiled the rugged and strong‑looking Chief Sitting Wolf.

‘I think you look lovely Heather,’ smiled Astar. ‘You certainly are a waiter magnet,’ said Astar giggling as she watched three waiters arguing who was here first to take their orders.

‘You three move along,’ said a tall waiter wearing a silk blue scarf around his neck. The waiters scurried away in different directions all wearing pink scarves.

‘Hello ladies, my name is Martin. I will be taking your order today. Here are your menus.’

‘Hello Martin,’ said Abagail calmly.

Abagail watched on as the waiter stared with a curtailed desire towards Heather.

‘May I say the clam chowder is an excellent place to start. Scallops, mussels, king crabs, bugs, red emperor, oysters all huge and fresh today.’ He smiled and placed two glasses and a bottle of Perrier water down on the table. Immediately Heather held a glass out to Martin.

‘Fill it,’ demanded Heather.

Regaining his composure, Martin filled her glass halfway. Heather kept her eyes fixed on Martin as she drank the whole glass in one go.

‘Again, I am thirsty,’ continued Heather in a belligerent manner.

As Martin filled it full this time, once again Heather drained the glass in one go. Abagail took Heather's hand.

‘I'm sure Martin can leave the bottle for us to use for now,’ insisted Abagail like a big sister.

A flash of realisation passed over Heather's face, before she burped loudly. The whole restaurant turned to see. Martin laughed, saw Heather's disapproval and graciously passed her the menu.

‘Perrier is a gaseous water, madam.’

‘I'll have number 14,’ ordered Heather.

‘But you haven't looked at the menu, madam,’ said Martin. ‘14 is seafood for four,’ he answered as politely as humanly possible.

‘That's what I'm having. Oh… and one cinnamon and buttered large sweet potato. Abagail?’ asked Heather. ‘What are you having?’

Abagail smirked. ‘Half a dozen oysters raw and the seafood pasta number 22.’

‘Very good, madam. Anything to drink?’ enquired Martin politely, handing over a wine menu.

‘Oh,’ grinned Heather. ‘A bottle of Vernaccia di San Gimignano,’ said Heather effortlessly and nodded.

Martin laughed. ‘Your knowledge of wine is remarkable, madam… unfortunately we don't have that in stock.’

‘Hmmm…’ grumbled Heather. ‘Then Austrian wine. A bottle of Blaufränkisch.’

This time Martin looked lost.

‘Lemberger…? Kékfrankos?’ frowned Heather.

‘Perhaps a bottle of Australian Shiraz will tickle your fancy, Heather,’ interrupted Rupert. ‘It's exceptionally good.’

‘Very well… a bottle of Australian Yalumba Octavius Shiraz,’ agreed Heather.

Relieved, Abagail, Martin, Rupert, Astar, Tibbar and Sitting Wolf all nodded once in unison.

‘Octavius and I got on well,’ smiled Heather to Martin, showing no teeth.

Martin spun about on his heels and headed off in a daze.

While another waiter fetched the wine, Martin busily searched for these wines he had not heard of on his phone.

Abagail laughed. ‘Are you really going to eat all that?’ asked Abagail, pouring herself some water before it was all gone.

‘Of course not, girlfriend. I ordered for Sitting Wolf, Rupert, Astar,’ explained Heather, looking at all four. ‘I know Tibbar likes sweet potato.’

‘No, love it,’ chuckled Tibbar. ‘Thank you.’

‘Excellent choice,’ said Rupert.

‘I'm jealous, but I can smell some,’ added Astar.

‘You could if you wanted to,’ pointed out Heather, pouring more water into her empty glass.

‘You did a great job ordering,’ said Abagail happily.

‘Thank you,’ slightly nodded Heather.

‘Do you require anything else, madam?’ asked a young waiter gazing upon Heather.

‘Another bottle of water,’ ordered Heather.

‘Careful with all that water, my dear,’ said Rupert. ‘It could go right through you.’

‘After five hundred years, Rupert, it might take some time to get there. I'm so thirsty.’

‘We must talk with you, Heather,’ said Sitting Wolf in a low deep strong patient voice.

‘Talk,’ suggested Heather, her eyes wide, gazing at everything with high interest.

‘You are aware that we were not responsible for your, entrapment?' asked Sitting Wolf.

Heather looked down, looking angry. Then, she raised her head and looked vacantly out to sea. She remained looking out to sea as she spoke.

‘The veil is lifted. I see that now… I see the battle… I see our defeat… I see… I see… Harden.’

Heather stood up in a rage.

‘He told me to HIDE IN THE DOLL!’

The room went silent as Heather stood there fuming with rage. Her fingernails tearing through the white tablecloth like talons. Rupert gently took her hand.

‘We cannot change that now… here is not the place to let off fireworks. You draw much unwanted attention to yourself and Abagail.’

Heather's eyes burned with fury as Martin the head‑waiter reached the table.

‘Is there a problem, madam?’ asked Martin, this time not smiling.

‘Heather?’ interjected Abagail, taking her cold hand.

Slowly Heather turned to Martin.

‘No… I just found out a friend… once a close friend has died… I am over him now.’ Heather instantly softened and smiled alluringly at Martin. ‘My apologies for the outburst.’

‘Totally understandable, madam,’ insisted Martin, passing her his clean blue handkerchief from his top pocket in a flash.

Heather accepted it graciously and sat gently back down, wiping the handkerchief over one solitary tear before passing it back to Martin.

‘Keep it,’ suggested Martin.

‘I wish to keep no memories of that tear, Martin,’ insisted Heather.

‘As you wish,’ accepted Martin. And he walked away to inform a group of waiters to spread the word that a close friend of the woman had died.

The beat of a drum sounded as polished reggae music played throughout the room. Martin looked at the cover of the CD. He loved this album. It always worked a treat for sales.

‘Harden is gone,’ said Sitting Wolf.

‘Where?’ asked Heather.

Abagail was unaccustomed to this smile from Heather.

‘He was defeated and sent back in time to the highest place on earth to dwell there eternally. His powers are little. He is within our boundary.’

‘I see,’ smiled Heather. ‘Oh waiter!’ pronounced Heather. ‘Where is the ladies’ room?’

‘Right over there, miss,’ said the waiter smiling helpfully.

‘Did you want me to come with you?’ asked Abagail, looking up.

‘Not this time, my sweet,’ replied Heather, walking away.

‘What if she fails?’ asked Sitting Wolf.

‘She won't,’ replied Rupert seriously.

‘Yes… I agree with Rupert,’ added Astar.

‘Harden is full of tricks,’ said Tibbar Rabbit. ‘Though he is weak now. Yes, weak now.’

Abagail said nothing as she listened to their intense conversation.

‘If she succeeds this is good news for Jezebel York,’ said Sitting Wolf, looking out to sea.

‘I will protect her life,’ added Astar.

‘Best for Fariddion as well,’ said Tibbar Rabbit.

‘She is there,’ whispered Rupert. ‘Heather has found him!’

‘Yes,’ said Tibbar Rabbit.

‘Who is this Harden character anyway?’ asked Abagail, sipping some water.

Heather flew down along the side of Mount Everest following the tracks of a man that led into a cave. She landed heavily at its entrance. Her bare feet hidden now under snow. She looked around. Strong winds howled on all sides of the cave’s opening. Her dark hair flicked wildly around her fiery dark eyes; fresh snow blew haphazardly about her. The faint trace of burning wood reached her nose. She clenched her fists and walked inside.

Inside, a man in a black cloak sat huddled in front of a fire on several animal skins. The fire crackled and popped. A different crack drew his attention to see a cloaked figure standing further back watching him. Harden scrambled to his knees.

‘Who are you, my brother?’

‘Poor dear Harden… powerless and alone under the mountain,’ said Heather.

‘How do you know my name?’ asked Harden, jumping onto his feet. ‘Ross, is that you? Juliet…?’

‘You would like it to be her… you tricked me for her.’

‘Heather,’ whispered Harden, with fear.

‘I'm OUT! Trapped, for five hundred years while you took my friends and made them your army. Your army to use. No chance of eternal life in Fariddion. Only death their fickle reward AND... Nothingness.’

Harden looked down at his spear.

‘We could start again,’ suggested Harden. ‘You would be our Queen of Fariddion. Everyone at your mercy. Everything yours to do with as you would wish!’

Harden's mouth was dry and open and quivering.

‘Any last words… Harden the Destroyer?’

Harden clasped his hands together.

‘Please spare me, Heather, I beg this of you. I made a mistake. Juliet made me do it. I wanted to release you, but they said no…’

Heather felt the slightest feeling of doubt. She once loved him. Though she once loved strong tea, the preference for its taste had passed. His tears were pitiful and childlike.

Harden bowed his head still sobbing. He lunged for his spear, leaned back and with all of his being cast it with destruction upon Heather, his last spell in flight. An inch from her forehead Heather caught the tip of the spear. She walked forward with it now in her outstretched arms. Harden charged at her with a dagger in his hand. Heather disarmed him, spun him around and held him from behind.

‘HA! Long have I held the day in my heart where my revenge would be swift for whomever placed me in that prison. Come, Harden… let me show you… fear…’

Heather flew out of the cave holding Harden like a bird‑of‑prey captures a rat. Held tightly within the claws of her deep red fingernails, Harden's struggles only caused her grip to tighten. She flew him north away from the Himalayan mountains, north, for the Kunlun Mountains.

A thousand miles over a vast barren wasteland passed by in seconds. Mountain peaks, ridges and valleys a blur under her incredible control. A power Harden had not known she possessed. Harden's face flapped and ached in G‑forces that finally left him unconscious. Heather's pace slowed; already the Kunlun Mountains, where volcanoes existed, lay ahead.

‘Wake up, my judge, my jury, my jailer… for your time to fly nears,’ whispered Heather, shaking him awake. She turned and flew beside the range. ‘I can smell sulphur in the air,’ whispered Heather, toying with her prey.

The active volcanoes appeared quickly as Harden began to wriggle from her grasp.

‘All this wriggling like a worm is working, Harden. I can't hold on much longer. I can't…’

Blood‑red fingernail after blood‑red fingernail released, until—

‘I can't… I…’

‘AHHHhhhhhhh…!’ screamed Harden, as he fell from two miles up to smash into the bubbling magma.

Harden was dead.

Heather shrieked with delight at his downfall, his treachery, his misjudgment.

‘No, Harden, it was I who made the mistake.’

Abagail looked up as Heather returned from the ladies’ room.

‘See, she wasn't gone long,’ said Abagail, taking another sip of water.

Just as Heather sat down, Abagail's oysters were placed in front of her. Then came Heather's massive seafood tower for four, wheeled up to their table. Abagail noticed trickles of blood on Heather's hands as she reached out to take a large bug from the three‑tier silver platter as it was placed down.

‘Well?’ asked Sitting Wolf, still not totally sure.

‘I snapped him in two, like a bug,’ declared Heather, ripping the head off the sea‑bug.

‘You ripped off his head?’ asked Rupert, slightly shocked.

‘No, no… he had a hot bath. Though the magma of the Kunlun volcano was too hot for his taste… he felt no pain,’ decided Heather. ‘Only a fast, near‑painless death. But, not from fear as he fell…’

Abagail looked around the table at the happy smiles her friends from the spirit world embraced. They frightened her. They all seemed like generals in a battle. A battle called war.

Abagail hurried away to the ladies’ room in tears. She stood before the large mirror wiping the black tears away from her mascara. She sniffed up and hid her tears as two women walked out after washing their hands.

‘God, I'm such a wimp!’ complained Abagail.

‘I'm sorry about you and your friend’s loss,’ said one of the women as they smiled sympathetically while leaving the ladies’ room.

Abagail looked surprised at their statement as Heather walked in and came up to her. Heather helped wipe her tears.

‘Don't cry, girlfriend,’ smiled Heather, holding her hand. ‘It's okay.’

‘Really, Heather… killing a man is okay?’

‘Don't cry over a man who has used and killed a thousand souls for his own dastardly dreams… your tears are wasted here girlfriend.’

A certain realisation of the good guys came over Abagail as she reevaluated her friends as defenders against evil. Heather leaned up and kissed her on the mouth.

‘Come on,’ she insisted.

Abagail found herself being led by the hand back to their table by her little friend. The wine had arrived and Abagail quickly had a large mouthful of great memorable wine.

‘I am sorry, Abagail, for our insensitive nature regarding Harden,’ said Astar, stroking Tibbar.

‘For too long Harden tried to overthrow our world,’ added Tibbar. ‘It cost too many lives, too many.’

‘Heather,’ said Rupert. ‘I must try this wine. Is anyone watching?’

Heather looked about the room.

‘Wait… in five seconds for three seconds from my glass. Three, two, one…’

Rupert materialised, quickly snatched up Heather's full glass, gulped half of it, placed it back down promptly, then disappeared.

‘My word…’ said Rupert, gloating. ‘Mmmm, mmm! Quite marvelous!’

Abagail burst out laughing at the absurdity of the moment. Abagail laughed with Heather for a moment. Heather continued to laugh hysterically. She only managed to stop by stuffing her mouth full of oysters.

Slowly but surely, waiter after waiter, patron after patron, watched the spectacle of the little woman in the black cloak, shredding and devouring a seafood platter for four at a rapid pace. Abagail sat with her mouth open; gob smacked at her ferocity. Eventually she found a moment as Heather gulped down her glass of water to take her hand.

‘Slow down, chicken… everyone is watching you eat so fast,’ said Abagail clearly.

Heather stopped and looked about to see half of the restaurant watching her.

*

The yellow Beetle pulled up outside Spiritual Gifts.

‘Oh, luckily there's a vacant spot again?’ smiled Abagail.

They both climbed out, then Abagail locked the car with the push of a button.

‘Did you want a coffee, Heather?’ said Abagail cautiously, watching her fiery friend come around to join her.

‘I can't right now,’ said Heather, walking with Abagail a few doors up to Kardon’s Café. ‘Wilbur wants me to meet him for coffee and cake in town.’

‘Right,’ nodded Abagail, leaning down and hugging her new girlfriend briefly. ‘Sorry I didn't want to hear all about Wilbur.’

‘That is fine, Abagail,’ said Heather, looking about.

‘See you soon!’ Abagail smiled and went inside quickly before Heather changed her mind.

With great relief Abagail watched her saunter away. Heather was like a magnet and she feared being drawn in too closely. Abagail felt she could be cold enough at times with her personality. Heather the smiling assassin was way beyond cold.

‘The usual, Abagail?’ asked Albert, busy behind the counter with a young casual assistant.

‘Yes… the usual,’ replied Abagail, watching Heather until she lost sight of her.

Barbara and Jane

Abagail sat with a client called Jane the next day in the medium room. Jane’s brother’s wife Barbara had passed away. Abagail wasn’t getting a connection this time. Her spirit wasn’t coming forward. Abagail had had more than her fair share of success of late with the spirit world, but to see her winning streak coming to an end made her sit up straighter in her chair.

‘I’ll try using my Tarot cards,’ suggested Abagail to the new customer called Jane.

Abagail got Jane to cut the deck. She placed three cards down, asking for answers about Jane’s sister‑in‑law, Barbara. The cards were not helping. Abagail saw the thirty‑minute‑booking‑special ticking to a close.

‘I’m sorry, I just can’t connect with Barbara today, Jane,’ said Abagail plainly. ‘Maybe next time I’ll have more luck.’

‘That’s alright, Abagail. It was worth a try,’ sighed Jane. ‘She was so healthy before... so tragic. I suppose my brother Peter will manage to move on again in time.’

‘Of course,’ reassured Abagail. ‘Sometimes it’s just best to grieve for a while first before contacting a newly crossed‑over soul.’

The shop doorbell tinkled.

‘Good afternoon, Clare,’ nodded Heather. ‘Is Abagail in?’

‘Hi Heather, she’s just finishing up with a customer in the medium room right about now,’ informed Clare happily, looking back from the clock up on the wall. Clare decided to say nothing as Heather walked on towards the medium room, unconcerned.

‘So if you like, maybe in two weeks we could try again?’ suggested Abagail.

‘Yeah, okay... No, I think I’ll leave it there. I—’

The door opened and in walked Heather.

‘Sorry Heather, we’re just finishing up. Can you give us a minute?’ asked Abagail plainly.

Heather didn’t respond. Her focus was on the corner of the room. For what looked like an empty chair to Abagail and Jane, Heather saw a woman holding a dish with uneaten food still on it.

‘Did you not hear Abagail?’ demanded the woman bitterly. 'We're still having our booked session.'

Abagail took Jane’s arm and whispered apologies. Heather ignored them and walked up to the woman sitting on the chair. She crouched over her and listened to her mumblings as the frail looking woman poked at the vegetables and meat on the white oval plate.

‘Um... we’ll leave it there, I think,’ said Abagail, standing and opening the door.

‘What an odd woman,’ frowned Jane, picking up her large white handbag and leaving slowly. She constantly looked back at Heather.

‘I don’t expect to pay full price because of this rude interruption.’

Abagail looked annoyed with Jane, who was quickly closing the door behind her. She called Clare on her phone.

‘Yes darling?’ asked Clare.

‘Don’t let Jane leave without paying for the half‑hour session,’ stated Abagail clearly.

‘Excuse me?’ called out Clare, hurrying after Jane heading for the door.

Abagail hung up, turned around, and found Heather standing beside her.

‘That woman poisoned Barbara,’ stated Heather coolly.

‘How do you—? Oh shit!’ exclaimed Abagail. ‘So, Jane’s sister‑in‑law was here.’

‘She is still here, though dim,’ explained Heather, turning her head to see Barbara still choking on the food. ‘She will need moving on. Her mind is too fixated over the trickery, cruelty and deception of Jane, she believes. Call on Rupert. I can’t stand seeing her in this state a minute longer,’ coughed Heather.

‘Rupert!’ called out Abagail, moving to the table where her phone rested. ‘Please appear!’

‘I am,’ said Rupert, bending over Barbara and taking her hand.

Abagail spun about to see him dressed in a white cloak.

‘Here Barbara... let me take that from you,’ said Rupert, taking the plate from her outstretched hands. ‘Try this one... Yes, I cooked it myself.’

Barbara looked at the shimmering golden plate with her favourite meal, Shepherd’s Pie.

‘And I’ve got some of your favourite berries from your old school mulberry tree as well. Here...’

Barbara’s attitude changed as she studied the dish. She began to smile at Rupert.

‘That’s a good sign,’ said Rupert. 'We can't have her poking at a plate of food for a hundred years.'

Shouting came from out in the shop. Abagail wiped the tears from her eyes and stormed out in a rage towards the belligerent Jane tearing into a reasonable Clare.

‘Here she comes...’ pointed Jane. ‘I’m not paying for—’

‘You’ve got ten seconds to pay before I call the police,’ snarled Abagail, leaning over a surprised Jane.

‘I won’t be—’

‘7. 6. 5... 4...’ Abagail brought out her phone.

‘Okay, okay, I’m not happy,’ complained Jane.

‘Not another word,’ demanded Abagail, tears now pouring from her eyes.

‘Don’t tell me what to do!’ snarled a defiant Jane.

From a great height, Abagail readied her hand to slap the life out of Jane. As her arm swung down towards this evil woman, Heather took hold of her wrist and Abagail stood there frozen, slap undelivered.

‘Pay,’ whispered Heather.

Jane brought out the money, handed it to Clare, didn’t know why she was paying, and left without another word.

‘Don’t come back,’ said Heather.

Jane looked back and hurried out the door.

‘I need to call the police,’ sighed Abagail, as Heather released her wrist.

‘No,’ said Heather plainly.

‘What?’ shook Abagail, still rattled by rage.

‘It was an accident,’ disclosed Heather. ‘Yes, she was poisoned but not intentionally. Rupert told me. I don’t always get the information correct... this is Rupert’s special field of knowledge, not mine.’

‘I still can’t believe you were strong enough to stop Abagail slapping her... you’re strong!’ Clare smiled.

‘Oh my... I rushed into that one,’ said Abagail, her emotions changing. ‘Thanks for stopping me... I... oh no...’

‘A foolish woman like Jane would have your shop closed down for beating her. Or I would have to beat her to death myself,’ explained Heather.

Clare laughed at first, then noticed Abagail wasn’t laughing. Abagail realised this awkward comment needed correcting, so pretended to laugh.

‘Oh Heather, you’re such a comedian,’ laughed Abagail. Now Clare laughed again. ‘You’re right, Clare. Heather is strong, isn't she?’ agreed Abagail.

Clare leaned over and felt Heather’s muscles.

‘Yes, surprisingly sexy,’ said Clare, smiling.

Abagail knew Clare was a lesbian, so thought the timing was right as a regular customer approached the shop to intervene.

‘Do you think so?’ asked Heather, narrowing her eyes.

Abagail stopped laughing and looked at Heather as the customer walked in for his usual packet of herbal smokes.

‘Hello Clare!’ said the man watching Clare approach him.

‘Hello there,’ smiled Clare. ‘Haven’t given up yet?’

The man chuckled.

‘By the way, Heather,’ smiled Abagail. ‘What brings you here today... just a visit?’ She took Heather’s hand and led her back to the medium room. Abagail suddenly felt a pain in her wrist where Heather had grabbed her.

‘I wanted to tell you I was starting work tonight as Wilbur’s new assistant,’ said Heather, watching for Abagail’s reaction. 'That idea went out the window in a hurry.'

‘Really?’ grinned Abagail, opening the door.

Rupert sat in the customer’s chair smoking a pipe.

‘Heather is going to be Wilbur’s new assistant starting tonight.’

‘Tonight? Why, that’s worth attending if ever there was a reason. Should be quite the show,’ grinned Rupert. That grin gave away a little secret all by itself.

‘You’re not upset?’ asked Heather cautiously of Abagail.

‘Not at all,’ replied Abagail, now coming to the understanding that Wilbur was no longer her crush.

‘Right,’ said Rupert, getting up. ‘She’s been moved on. Her family are grateful for your help, Heather. Ah, I wish you had slapped her though,’ smiled Rupert. ‘Her knowledge of preparation and cooking are terrible. Perhaps you still could call Barbara’s family anonymously in regard to Jane’s cooking skills. Jane needs a wake‑up call before she puts some other poor soul's life in danger.’ Rupert sighed. He remembered watching the remarkable transformation from confusion to celebration as Barbara was embraced by her family and the angels back in Fariddion.

‘How on earth would I get their number?’ asked Abagail. ‘And what would I say?’

‘Barbara’s closest sister is Alison Derby. She’s a nurse at Douglas Hospital. Just tell her Jane came for a reading and after she left, Barbara came and told you Jane’s casserole was not correctly prepared. Alison is so wound up to get to the bottom of what happened. Her uncle is a detective. She’ll have him knocking on Jane’s door within a week.’

‘No worries, Rupert, I’m on it today,’ confirmed Abagail. ‘Heather helped a lot with this situation.’

‘Yes... of course. I was happy to help,’ smiled Heather, looking at her new best friend for approval.

‘Terrific,’ said Abagail, patting her softly on the back.

Heather leaned up and kissed Abagail.

‘You don’t have to kiss me for saying that, Heather,’ said Abagail helpfully. ‘But watch out for Clare, she loves kissing other women. A lot,’ explained Abagail.

Heather looked slightly unsure as Rupert spoke.

‘An unplanned visit is all in a day’s work for...’

Rupert spun around incredibly fast and now stood there dressed as Superman.

‘Superman, you’re supposed to wear red underpants on the outside, not black,’ shrugged Heather. ‘And it’s red, not purple.’

‘Up up and away!’ acted out Rupert, vanishing.

‘I’m starting to feel we need a direct line to the President,’ giggled Abagail.

‘Do you think we should?’ asked Heather seriously.

‘No... I’m just making a joke, girlfriend,’ said Abagail calmly.

She sat down to call Barbara’s sister Alison, as Clare popped her head in the door.

‘Can someone give me a hand to get a heavy box down please?’ asked Clare.

‘God, when is this day going to slow down a little?' sighed Abagail.

' I can help you do that,’ said Heather.

Douglas Hospital connected on Abagail’s phone.

‘Oh, hello,’ said Abagail, watching with concern as Heather followed Clare out.

‘Thanks Heather, it won’t take a minute,’ declared Clare, stretching up to pull the heavy box down from the shelf. ‘Here it comes!’

Clare lost her balance and fell onto her backside as the large heavy box full of Wizard and Witches T‑shirts toppled off the shelf falling towards her. She croaked in fear knowing it would really hurt.

She opened her eyes to see Heather holding the 25kg box in one hand.

‘Goodness Heather... just how strong are you?’ gasped Clare, jumping to her feet and taking hold of the other side of the box.

‘Very,’ said Heather plainly.

‘I can see that,’ said Clare, spell bound.

‘Just here’s fine,’ suggested Clare as the heavy box landed onto the long glass counter.

Clare gave Heather an unexpected hug.

‘Thank you. You saved me a bad bruise back there,’ laughed Clare.

Heather, not sure what else to do, said, ‘Is a kiss appropriate?’

‘I shouldn’t really kiss you here... but...’

Clare looked on as Heather leaned up and kissed her on the mouth. Clare returned the favour, then placed her arms around Heather and began to kiss her very passionately.

At that moment, Abagail walked out and saw Clare kissing Heather. She stopped just outside the door and watched, unsure what led to this.

Finally Clare stopped and pulled back.

‘You really must be relieved I caught that box falling on you in time,’ grinned Heather. ‘Though I don’t know if Abagail would approve of you kissing me so much. She is my girlfriend, not you.’

Just at that moment Clare noticed Abagail standing there with folded arms.

‘Oh, I’m sorry Abagail, Heather saved a box falling on me then kissed me... I... I’m sorry,’ winced Clare, feeling she was in big trouble.

Abagail didn’t know what to say and came up with a terrible and not‑at‑all well‑thought‑out excuse.

‘Ah... Heather is from Austria. She has funny customs. Customs more like her hometown of Feldkirchen. Ah...’ grimaced Abagail, hurrying over to snap Heather up and walk her towards the door. ‘Just getting a coffee.’

‘Oh,’ reacted Clare happily.

Before they made the door Clare shouted out, ‘Danke vielmals für deine Hilfe!’

Heather turned about and said, ‘Ganz herzlich gerne, mein Liebling Clare.’

‘Come on!’ said an exasperated Abagail, tugging on her arm to get her out of the shop. 'I really need a hot chocolate.'

Heather waved goodbye and allowed Abagail to take her outside.

‘Are you jealous, girlfriend?’ Heather said, smiling with delight. ‘Maybe I should kiss more women to get more of your intense need for me. I like it!’

Abagail sighed. ‘Ahhgh... let’s get you a coffee. We need to talk.’

‘Te he he he he,’ laughed Heather, being led forcefully by the arm into Kardon’s Café, which was fairly busy with customers.

‘Good morning, ladies!’ said Albert, smiling, watching as Abagail led Heather towards her favourite booth by the corner window.

‘Would you like a kiss too, Albert?’ asked Heather, still having too much fun.

‘Anytime honey,’ answered Albert, getting a stern eye from his wife in the kitchen.

‘What?’ asked Albert cheekily. His wife smiled. She liked Albert’s flirty ways. Nothing ever came of it, of course.

‘Do you want a drink, Heather?’ asked Abagail.

‘Yes. Black strong coffee, Albert,’ demanded Heather.

‘Okay okay,’ said Albert, unsure of Abagail’s friend. Albert had just taken an order for twelve coffees and food. This huge order was doing his head in.

Abagail let go of Heather’s arm and sat down looking sad. Heather finally noticed and sat down instantly, holding her hand across the table.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Heather, ‘if I upset you. I am ready to listen now.’

‘Ah... thank God you can speak Austrian. Though it’s basically German. Sorry, it’s just been a whirlwind of a morning,’ declared Abagail.

‘Go on,’ said Heather plainly.

‘Clare is into women, not men. Now she thinks we’re a couple. I would appreciate it if you didn’t kiss anyone else. It’s making it difficult for me.’

‘Right. So kiss only you... correct?’

‘I don’t know. Yes, I guess,’ sighed Abagail, finding the moment awkward to put in place.

Heather leaned forward to kiss Abagail, but Abagail leaned away a little. Heather persisted and held her face and planted her another kiss like it or not.

‘There... feel better, girlfriend?’ grinned Heather. ‘No kisses for any other woman except you and my sweet sweet darling Wilbur, of course.’

Abagail looked at Heather thoughtfully. ‘I like the kisses but we’re not a couple. Only couples kiss on the lips, or if they are dating or attracted to each other. I have to be careful too...’

‘About what, darling Abagail?’ wondered Heather.

‘That... that I don’t get to like your kisses too much,’ disclosed Abagail.

‘I was in a relationship with a tall Russian woman many many years ago. I know what it’s like... yes well, mostly I recall... Time within the Doll has left my memory and understanding of people and places foggy. I will be careful not to kiss you too much anymore. I don’t want to upset our friendship. Is that clear enough, girlfriend?’

‘Ahh... yes, thanks Heather. Still, now Clare thinks you’re from Austria. I didn’t know what else to say... your kissing her had to be explained away because—’

‘Say no more,’ interrupted Heather quickly. ‘I will have fun chatting with Clare in German. I will not disclose who I am to anyone within reason. I know what you want of me now. I am all good to go.’

‘Really?’ replied Abagail brightly with relief.

‘Here you are, ladies,’ smiled Albert, wearing his usual big white apron.

‘No kisses for you, Albert,’ said Heather plainly.

‘That’s a relief, I don’t think my heart could take it anyway.’ Albert smiled and shuffled between the other noisy tables, looking worried.

‘What time do you start tonight?’ asked Abagail, basking in the joy of her simple question.

‘Oh yes. Seven pm. We have already settled on our new show. It’s a secret, sorry girlfriend.’

‘Love it. Can’t wait to see it. Bring on the night,’ said Abagail smiling briefly.

Just then a noisy customer complained about why her large takeaway order of twelve assorted coffees was taking so long. Heather turned around and listened. Abagail just tried to relax and drink more hot chocolate.

‘I will help,’ said Heather.

‘With what?’ wondered Abagail, watching in surprise as Heather headed for the counter.

Abagail’s phone rang. It was Barbara’s sister Alison.

‘Can I help?’ asked Heather, walking around to face Albert.

‘Do you know how to make coffees?’ asked Albert, watching his wife struggling in the kitchen. 'Both casuals called in sick today.'

‘Leave it to me, Albert. I have seen into your thoughts on how you best like it made. Hmmm, I make better coffee.’

‘What? ah, if you can. There’s a book there to help you make them. I’ve got to help my wife. She's stressed.’

It took Heather all of a second to scan the ten‑page book and the thirteen‑page coffee machine manual.

With incredible speed Heather filled the two largest pots with milk, a bottle in each hand then put them to boil. She then read off the list of the coffees required and set all three group handles into action. With mastery and precision, Heather whipped up a line of twelve cups and started gathering ingredients to add touches of her own devices.

The complaining woman was transfixed on Heather’s mind‑blowing ability. The milk, cream, toppings and powders went in, the lids went on, the different names of each drink were initialed on every lid, not in any particular order.

Albert hurried back with the six different toasted sandwiches and six different cakes. His mouth fell open at the twelve coffees lined up in a row all steaming away.

‘What the f—’

‘All done!’ declared Heather, leaving and walking away.

The customer found her coffee and took a sip. Albert’s eyes widened with alarm, expecting the worst. She always complained.

The woman’s eyes opened in surprise. She smiled. Albert smiled. Eight customers at their tables watching smiled.

‘That’s amazing Albert! You should hire her immediately. I would go so far as to say-’ She took another sip. 'Perfect... it's the best coffee I've ever had!' The woman couldn't believe what she was saying, but it was true.

‘Yes... well... hmmm?’ wondered Albert, scratching the back of his head with relief. His eyes staring thankfully at the twelve steaming cups of hot coffee.

‘Done,’ said Heather, sitting down.

‘Okay, I’ll be in touch,’ said Abagail, lifting her head up to see Heather sitting back down. ‘No worries, Alison, bye.’

Abagail hung up her phone.

‘Done... she will check it out this week. She’s very interested to see what her uncle will say. She's all in. Where did you go? Albert send you back?’

‘No... he let me make a couple of coffees.’

‘Really?’

Abagail finished her hot chocolate.

‘I’ve got to get back to work. Clare finishes in five minutes.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Heather. ‘I’m going back to see Wilbur.’

They stood to leave. Abagail was stunned, for as they left, Albert and his wife Tina and the whole shop were clapping with fun at Heather.

‘What did you do?’ asked Abagail, amazed.

‘Nothing but help Albert make some coffees.’

‘Oh...’ wondered Abagail as they left the store.

‘Bravo!’ yelled Albert. ‘Don’t worry, it’s quiet now. I’ll ask her later,’ informed Albert, whispering to Tina. 'There's a lot we could learn from her.'

Wilbur sat in the dressing room of the Maple Spring Theatre. A simple errand for Heather to get more glitter for his prop gun had already taken fifty minutes; now he felt nervous. Tapping his fingers on the couch arm in a constant beat at the realization that he may be starting as a solo show was the last thing he had expected tonight. He jumped up and paced the room again. Wilbur looked at his watch in disbelief. In twenty‑five minutes, they would be asking him to start in five.

“God damn!” blurted out Wilbur. His frustration level had increased to anxiety. “Where are you, Heather? My career is on the line tonight, Baby Doll!”

*

“This is so much fun,” smiled Heather on the dance floor.

“I told you you’d like it,” said Abagail. “We probably should finish our drinks and go. We don’t want to be late. From what you told me, half of Las Vegas is going to be there tonight.”

Heather led Abagail outside to a vacant deck looking out onto the city lights.

“Oh gosh,” said Abagail, looking at her watch. “The show starts in less than thirty minutes. We’ll have to leave now or we’ll never arrive in time with the roads so busy.”

“Or we could fly,” suggested Heather, finishing her glass.

“I can fly… I have my RPL,” said Abagail, reaching into her purse to show Heather.

“Hmmm… by a plane. No, we’ll fly by Heather Airlines,” replied Heather, looking out towards the stars.

“You can fly?” asked Abagail, astounded.

Heather walked behind Abagail and placed her arms tightly around her.

“Wait!” said Abagail. “I… I…”

“It’ll be alright,” whispered Heather.

Abagail’s feet left the ground. In seconds they cleared the rooftop and shot up into the sky.

“Ohhhh… heck!” complained Abagail, momentarily closing her eyes, then opening them wide with excitement and fear.

“Roller coaster!” said Heather, going around in a full long circle.

“What are you doing?” laughed Abagail at the absurdity.

“Be not afraid… I have you. All will be well,” said Heather.

They passed through moisture and cloud. Then in a jolt they rocketed higher so quickly that Abagail passed out.

“Look, Abagail!” said Heather. But poor Abagail was still unconscious from the dimension shift. “The gates of Fariddion, Abagail… Abagail? Oh…”

Heather held Abagail in a soft vertical hold facing Fariddion. Heather stroked her face, whispering to her. Finally, Abagail came out of it and woke up. Startled, the sight of the distant massive façade of some kind of entrance ahead left her unsure and still half‑conscious.

“Ah, you’re awake…,” said Heather. “I am sorry. I should not have done this first without telling you. Verzeihung.”

“Where are we?” asked Abagail.

The sky was a mixture of pink, orange, and a touch of blue. The clouds below them were thick white.

“Fariddion. Look! This is where Rupert and Sitting Wolf, Tibbar and Astar come from.”

Abagail’s eyes popped out of her head at the grand entrance in the distance, its presence overwhelming her.

“Perhaps I have overdone it. I… was happy. Too happy. I wanted to give you something special, girlfriend. I didn’t think it through. I am a bit scattered in my decisions sometimes. We will go back now.”

“Oh… we’re not going inside?” wondered Abagail.

“No… I have never been inside myself.”

Abagail turned about and looked down into Heather’s concerned eyes.

“It’s amazing,” whispered Abagail, smiling.

“Yes, girlfriend. It is,” replied Heather, smiling a little but seemingly on guard.

They stayed like this for some time, floating in mid‑air. The air swirling about them in colours unlike Earth. Abagail was shocked as a large jolt pushed them quickly forward towards Fariddion. A firm pressure gripped and covered her body completely. It was rough and fleshy. A deafening squawk filled the air. Abagail could tell Heather was trembling with fear. Everything once tranquil was now filled with deathly anticipation. They had been captured.

“What is it, Heather?” asked Abagail.

No reply.

“Heather!” she called out louder. “What is it?”

“A Guardian Owl,” whimpered Heather unhappily in her ear. “They crunch and snap in two!” she wailed.

The Guardian Owl held them tightly within its talons, passing through the gates of Fariddion, squawking in excitement. Keepers of the gate—giant faces which appeared looking pleased with the owl but unhappily towards Heather and Abagail—disappeared as the Guardian Owl flew on. It flew through a giant wall that looked as cloudy as baking paper to roughly drop Heather and Abagail into a tumbling slide along a black marble floor to rest at the feet of Storm.

“It hasn’t even been a thousand days and already here are two Stranded spies brought to my feet,” boomed the giant storm Being. “Hmmm… though you are both female Stranded.”

Abagail attempted to talk. “I—”

“Silence!” boomed Storm, stretching up as big as a house to look down unfavorably at the invading spies. “Don’t waste your time with me. Tell it to the Council and keepers of the gate, you devils.”

Abagail jumped as the black shiny marble surface she stood on appeared to show sea life passing beneath, inquisitive of her arrival. Again, Abagail attempted to talk. “I know—”

“Silence!” rumbled Storm with fury, causing Abagail to place her hands over her ears.

As she looked up, a yellow‑cloaked figure floated down to stand in front of her. She was a tall, black, worldly woman with curly dark hair.

“I am Bootum, Stranded. Chief Fire Arrow will take you to your prison to await your fate.”

A slew of Native American Indians led by a man who Heather and Abagail understood to be Fire Arrow—wearing bright yellow and orange feathers—quickly approached. They surrounded the two women and pushed them unapologetically away.

Across the marble floor they walked. Abagail, sick with fear, snatched glimpses of wondrous sights that did not improve her despair. She nearly fell over with sickness and fatigue.

“Here,” demanded Fire Arrow, pushing them through a giant door into a vacant room.

Heather and Abagail attempted to talk but no words came out. The room captured any spoken words and banished them to silence.

*

A knock came to the door. Wilbur jumped out of his chair.

“Heather?” he asked hopefully.

The door opened.

“Five minutes, Mr. Warburton,” smiled the young female staff worker. “The place is packed. Good luck!”

Wilbur stayed standing and started to busily rearrange his list of props. He sighed and shook with alarm.

“The show will go on!” he stated. He sat back down and busily adjusted the set‑list, his ego not ready to throw in the towel.

*

“I don’t understand it,” said Rupert to Astar as they walked with the guests into the Maple Spring Theatre. Rupert was back in his tuxedo, Astar in a shimmering purple dress.

“They’re not here, Astar!” said Rupert, shocked. “I… I cannot sense their presence?”

“Hmmm… I will ask Tibbar,” said Astar, stopping and closing her eyes while people passed back and forth around them. “Oh my…” said Astar with building alarm. “Oh my… taking human form has dropped our guard.”

“What do you mean?” wondered Rupert.

“They are… oh my…” Astar held Rupert’s arm to steady herself. “They are prisoners of Fariddion!”

“Great maze of beastmaview!” declared Rupert, concerned.

They ran through the crowd searching for a private place where they could both vanish unnoticed. Wherever they went someone was in the way.

“So…” said Fire Arrow inches from Heather’s face. “You do not deny it, that you are the Stranded general, Heather Colle Santa Lucia?”

“That was over five hundred years ago,” retorted Heather, seated on a hard wooden round seat in the middle of a large dark arena surrounded by a hundred Fariddion guardians, the Council of Judgement.

Abagail sat still with her head down, drained and unwell. She heard and saw little. It was all a blur.

“No doubt off to try and find your lover Harden now you are free!” continued Fire Arrow. Storm, Stone and Fire rumbled and crackled with anger.

“I ended Harden’s life three days past,” said Heather coldly.

“Ha, ha, ha, aha!” laughed Fire Arrow. “I say destroy them now,” shouted Fire Arrow. “She released him, no doubt. Have we become soft? Spies of the Stranded must be killed. They can’t help but trick us and lie. Remember when they last tricked us because of our generous nature?" Fire Arrow looked around the Council seeing many faces which remembered the embarrassment. "When is your next attack, she‑devil? Well, my friends of the council… what say you? Any knowledge this Stranded general has gathered, if released, is to our detriment.”

“Destroy them,” said Fire. “She has immense power!”

Others cheered and applauded with agreement.

A giant tortoise walked forward.

“Your ferocity in battle is well known, Heather Colle Santa Lucia…” said the tortoise slowly. “If there are none who want this order of suggestion stopped… then death, unpleasant as it may be… is passed.”

The tortoise ambled away as Fire Arrow and his men took aim at Abagail and Heather.

Heather took Abagail’s hand and tried to vanish. It did not work within the walls of Fariddion.

“I am sorry, girlfriend,” said Heather, a tear falling to the floor.

Abagail remained hunched over, oblivious to her surroundings and imminent death.

The fire arrows were placed by ten warriors. The arrows lit themselves as they drew back to sight. Then, as Heather stared down death, the arrows released.

Chief Sitting Wolf stood before the arrows, and they all stopped and fell to the floor still burning. The arena roared with surprise.

“Kwaya, aastuh, to‑to‑a, kete… I will have this stopped!” shouted Sitting Wolf, catching his breath.

“Why?” screamed Fire Arrow. “You overstep your authority here, Sitting Wolf.”

“You’re too eager for death, my friend,” sighed Sitting Wolf, his journey back from a past tribal ritual cut short.

“Never too eager to defend Fariddion against two Stranded devils. The council’s decision will proceed!” shouted Fire Arrow.

To Sitting Wolf’s surprise, two of Fire Arrow’s men charged at Heather and Abagail. Sitting Wolf moved forward and raised an arm, sending one sliding away across the floor with an unseen force. Sitting Wolf grabbed down a spear heading for Abagail, then knocked out the young attacker with it.

Fire Arrow ran forward with his fire dagger drawn, attempting to stab Heather. The two Chiefs came to grips, glowing bright orange and red. Their energies ebbed and flowed with each gaining then losing the upper hand. Eventually Sitting Wolf sat down and pulled Fire Arrow to him, and with his legs flung him far and high into the air to crash down to a painful heap.

“Stop this!” demanded Rupert, entering the fray dressed in his black cloak. Beside him walked Astar and Tibbar rabbit hopping eagerly along. They were watched with interest as they reached the center where the light shone brightest.

“Tibbar!” said Rubbuz the tortoise. “What is this? What is going on with your interjection, Black Wizard?”

“There has been a mistake,” explained Rupert. “And a terrible misjudgement on my part—”

“And mine!” said Astar.

“And mine!” declared Tibbar.

“Tibbar… speak, explain this…” insisted Rubbuz, his large giant ancient eyes narrowing.

“Heather and our friend Abagail are not spies of the Stranded," stated Tibbar. The Council of Judgement gasped. "Heather killed Harden, yes. That is why you do not sense him, for he is dead… thrown by Heather’s hand into the fire of Hunlun... he’s dead!” explained Tibbar, raising a paw. “Abagail and Heather we recruited, yes, to move on lost souls from Earth.”

“She is the Stranded,” retorted Bootum.

“Enough of this Stranded talk concerning Heather,” waved away Sitting Wolf. “She has had no affiliation with them for five hundred years. She simply brought her girlfriend from Earth to see the Gates of Fariddion. That’s it! Nothing more. Hooclaw’s actions are understandable. And yes, we should have informed you of our current tactical planning. Her unexpected arrival here changed things. Heather here is not a threat,” pointed Sitting Wolf. “She has destroyed Fariddion’s greatest foe single‑handedly.” Some in the Council applauded.

“That is welcome news indeed,” said Bootum. “Though I watched my brother die by her hand. I can’t believe I have to forgive this.”

“Forgiveness is a lesson that sets you free, Bootum,” suggested Tibbar rabbit. “For your brother in silence, I am sorry, yes.”

“You see…” said Rupert, walking closer to Rubbuz. “It was I who released Heather from her entrapment at the hands of Harden. She avenged her betrayal by Harden who placed her there. It was the Guardian Owl Wiserhoot who witnessed this, not Hooclaw. It would have been more prudent if she had informed us of her intentions to show Abagail the gates of Fariddion, of course. I guess that makes us all a bit foolish, but not a threat. Nevertheless, your haste for an execution seems strange, members of the council.”

“As you were notified of this trial, Rupert Richardson, your complaining seems muddled and strange. It is fantastic to find that Heather is potentially one of us, though,” called out the Green Wizard from the gallery. “Are you now the Sleeping Wizard as well?”

“Ah…” nodded Rupert. “My apologies there also. I was in human form when their capture was relayed. My bowtie doesn’t have reception,” he coughed, watching Marshal Malteese, the Green Wizard.

“What does that mean?” asked Rubbuz.

“Nothing, a simple joke. I was unaware of the council meeting when in human form, Rubbuz,” explained Rupert, sharing a glance with Astar. “Hence our late attendance.”

“You must be more careful taking human form,” suggested Storm. “Complications do arise, young wizard.”

“The Guardian Owl Hooclaw found them observing Fariddion from a distance and captured them,” agreed Bootum, walking forward to face Heather before turning back to Rupert. “They were there.” She turned to Heather. “To show your friend? A former Stranded general… this is a most unusual outcome. But, as it seems true,” she smiled, watching Astar, “it seems a welcome one,” she admitted.

“To show Abagail the wonders of Fariddion. The wonders of their fire arrows,” hissed Heather.

“Please show restraint, Heather,” asked Astar. heather closed her mouth.

“The scent of a Stranded general is never forgotten by an Owl Guardian,” said the Golden Wizard walking forward. “His memory is quite remarkable. And mine, Heather Colle Santa Lucia… my damaged hand is still a reminder of the time we last met five hundred years ago.”

“Yes, yes, yes. So, are we all agreed that this matter can be brought to an end, yes?” asked Tibbar rabbit. “Abagail must be returned to Earth. She is not well. If she remains here longer she will become permanently ill. I must take her back at once. She is no less an asset than Jezebel York is.”

“Very well, Tibbar,” grunted Rubbuz. “Are there any dissenters for a not‑guilty verdict against the two on trial?”

There was a long silence, for no one spoke.

“So now you know. They are our friends,” added Astar. “We should have warned you of our plans once Heather was found. This situation is most unfortunate. We will not make the same mistake again, our dear council friends. We scared you unnecessarily. Your trust in our words and understanding is loved.”

“I would like to address this gathering,” said Heather, standing up and walking forward.

“Very well,” replied Rubbuz the giant tortoise. “Any objections?”

Heather took Astar’s hand.

“It is alright,” nodded Heather.

Fire Arrow and his men walked to the side and stood silently listening.

“Fire Arrow?” asked Rubbuz.

“As the council of Fariddion wish,” replied Fire Arrow quietly.

“Are you injured?” asked Rubbuz.

“It would have cracked your old shell the way Sitting Wolf threw me so high,” answered Fire Arrow. Several members laughed. “Sitting Wolf, indeed.” He rubbed his back and grinned.

Rupert and Sitting Wolf shared a glance.

“I came here today with love for my new friend Abagail. It nearly caused her death. Thank you, Rupert, Sitting Wolf… you saved the day,” she smiled. “Tibbar and Astar, for your welcome and sweet words of trust for me. I have faced down arrows and demons and beasts of war… but after all are slain or scattered, no one has shown care or love. Thank you for showing mercy and forgiveness as fast as you have shown your ability in sentencing death. For where I have come from, no mercy would be spared. You truly are fair and not at all like my past family.”

Hooclaw flew down and landed before Heather. He bent his giant head forward and bowed down. Heather stroked his head.

“I will not go with Tibbar. Hooclaw will take us back. Please give your energy to Abagail so I can take her back as well. She suffers here, as Tibbar has said.”

The assembly rose. Abagail rose.

“Come, Abagail, it is over,” smiled Heather, sitting on the back of the giant owl.

Abagail looked around and saw Rupert, Tibbar, Sitting Wolf and Astar smiling at her.

"What's going on?" asked Abagail brightly.

“I'll explain later. Go on, hurry up…” said Rupert. “Heather still has to save Wilbur’s career, you know. It’s not going well for him.”

The realization of Wilbur’s predicament snapped Abagail out of her indecision. She hurried over and was placed on behind Heather by Hooclaw’s own wing.

“Next time… we come as friends,” said Heather.

“Go, Hooclaw!” demanded Heather, and the giant owl circled higher and higher until they disappeared.

“Good luck, my friends,” said Rubbuz to Rupert, Sitting Wolf, Tibbar and Astar. “For if Heather fails… you will all be held… accountable.”

They all looked at each other. It was a chance Rupert, Tibbar, Astar and Sitting Wolf were prepared to take. It had been the right decision so far.

*

Wilbur spun another plate. One had fallen to the floor. It was a talented performance, but for a show the size of the Maple Spring Theatre, which held two thousand people, it was falling short — just like the second plate which now broke in two on the wooden stage floor. Wilbur chuckled on the outside as he took a bow to little applause. On the inside, he wished he could stick his head into the floor and hide like an ostrich.

Such stories of wonder and amazement still held the audience in place. They waited and waited. When would the real Wilbur Warburton dazzle us with his magic? they wondered.

Wilbur raised his head and almost looked at his watch, casting his well‑rehearsed smile of steel to the audience. His career was almost finished. The big talent scouts who sat in the front row had travelled from afar for this performance. They were almost angry by now. With all his might Wilbur restrained himself from walking off stage to retire.

“I can’t go on,” whispered Wilbur to himself.

Wilbur walked to the front of the stage with the microphone.

“Ladies and gentlemen… it has been an honour performing for you tonight.”

He shook his head. “I have done my best tonight to entertain, but I have come up short. It’s just not good enough… I stand here humiliated… wondering if I should quit or should I…” The audiance gasped as Wilbur slumped to his knees.

Wilbur looked up to the gallery where stony faces looked down blankly upon him.

“Tonight…”

Wilbur saw a giant owl swoop past the upper gallery and begin circling the room at the ceiling. People roared with alarm and surprise. Spotlights snapped into action, searching for the bird until it was found.

“Oh, but TONIGHT!” beamed Wilbur, totally changing from his exhausted state to be re‑energized. “Behold!” he pointed. “The magic… of Wilbur… Warburton!”

Roars of amazement settled over the audience as people strained their necks to see where two women rode upon the back of a giant bird. The visual was simply spellbinding.

Then the bird disappeared. The crowd erupted in alarm as one of the women was caught by the second women.

Wilbur, knowing it was Heather, ran off the stage and stood directly in front of the talent scouts. A spotlight lit Wilbur’s steely grin as he raised his hands up towards the heavens. The talent scouts were gob smacked as the two women floated gently down towards the stage. The audience’s faces were mesmerized by the greatest magic trick of all time.

Wilbur hurried back onto the stage and went onto his knees in exultation, begging for Heather and Abagail to land on either side of him. Tears of joy ran down his sun‑tanned face. Eventually, they did land as hoped.

Abagail bowed, then got the hell off stage. She ran into Rupert’s arms behind the curtain and hugged him with joyous relief.

The crowd jumped to their feet as Heather now pretended to be a kite. As Wilbur pulled on a make‑believe string, she came back to him. When he pretended to wind her out, she floated away again. Applause erupted around the room. Cheers and screams of delight fed off Wilbur’s radiant smile. He had them on a string. With each tug, they roared again.

Finally, in an unplanned move, Wilbur’s top hat floated over to him. As soon as he held it, Tibbar jumped out and started walking about on two legs. The audience were beside themselves. When Tibbar started taking bows within the spotlight, children ran onto the stage.

The show was over.

Tibbar left. The children returned to their parents. A standing ovation for Heather and Wilbur lasted ten minutes. Eventually Abagail capitulated and ran out to take several bows before disappearing off stage as quickly as she’d appeared.

Wilbur bent down on one knee and kissed Heather’s hand. He slowly stood. Heather wrapped her arms around him and flew him off stage, the spotlights catching the triumphant wave goodbye, and his steely grin, perfectly.

All the talent-scouts in the front row stood together applauding in awe.

Wilbur had slam‑dunked his audition for the big time. With a little bit of help from his friends, of course.

CHAPTER 12

Back to business

Abagail banked the plane in an arc over the sea and headed for Moriset Airport.

“Time to get back to business, I hope,” said Abagail, yawning. “I still have to do the afternoon shift at the shop and I have several readings too. I’m so tired though. I was hoping this flight would have perked me up a lot more.”

“It’s nice. Hmmm… it’s a very slow machine, but relaxing, girlfriend,” smiled Heather. “I can see why you like it. I wouldn’t call it very exciting either.”

“Perhaps when you start your residency in Las Vegas with Wilbur, I could fly up to see you,” suggested Abagail, seriously checking her instrument panel, almost forcing herself to stay focused.

“Of course. We would love that. Perhaps you could do a cameo with us?” asked Heather, staring sweetly at Abagail.

“Sounds a possibility,” replied Abagail, not letting on that she was terrified of being on stage and had no intention of going on again.

“Gemini Tower, Johnny Bravo 49496, coming into land, Runway 2, over,” announced Abagail.

“Roger that, Johnny Bravo 49496. Gemini Tower, still all clear to land Runway 2, over.”

Abagail sat in her chair in the medium room. She stared ahead in silence. She had returned the plane to her new flight school's owner and driven Heather in her Beetle back to Wilbur’s house. The plane journey had helped, but it had not alleviated her anxiety and lack of enthusiasm.

Her thoughts raced between being captured in the talons of the great bird to being picked up by it and flown out on its back through the gates of Fariddion. She sipped her tea. Relaxation music did its best to place Abagail into a relaxed state, but she still felt torn apart.

She breathed out, remembering how scared she had been by Storm’s anger. Fire’s fury. Being pushed and pushed by Fire Arrow. She wanted to punch him. Luckily, she had no recollection of the Council. She had felt odd when sitting with everyone for a celebratory dinner after Wilbur and Heather’s success. She had tried getting drunk that night. She hoped it would help her forget the fear and sickness she felt. She woke up feeling much sicker. Abagail hated getting drunk too.

With her hangover now almost gone and her mind clearing somewhat, the feeling of sadness had not left her. In fact, Abagail wanted nothing more than to be sitting at home with Roper on her lap while staring blankly at her lovely peaceful garden.

“I need a holiday,” decided Heather, bursting into tears again. “I need peace and quiet. I don’t want to be here!”

There was a knock at the door and Rupert walked in wearing a Hawaiian shirt, white slacks, sandals and dark sunglasses.

“Did someone mention a holiday?” said Rupert, smiling.

“By myself, Rupert. Can’t you see I’m emotionally scraped raw… super overstimulated and still half caught between worlds… I—”

“Well, I—”

“I don’t need any more lectures, quests, clients, or revelations. I can’t even ground myself any longer,” said Abagail, breaking into tears once more.

“That’s why I am here,” smiled Rupert, bending down on one knee before Abagail. “I brought you something to remove the mental strain this burden has caused you. Being unprepared for the jump to our world can be fatal…” He rubbed her shoulder.

“I need help!” admitted Abagail, for once showing her vulnerable side to Rupert. “I feel I need to run away and hide.”

“You can’t run away from yourself,” said Rupert. “They played that one at Tremeloes the other day.”

“I don’t care about that! What do I do?” asked Heather, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him forward desperately.

Rupert lifted up his hand in front of Abagail’s face. Held gently between his fingers was a transparent ring.

“Here… wear this… it should help.”

Abagail looked at the thin, small, clear object. She grabbed it in haste and studied it close to her eyes. Tears welled up as tiny swirling pink, orange and white clouds moved within it slowly, never stopping — a constant merry‑go‑round of relaxing colours. Abagail held it captured in both hands against her chest.

“AHHH… ahhhhhh… Rupert… oh, the relief!”

“Yes… yes,” said Rupert. “Thank goodness it worked.”

“I have felt lost for days,” admitted Abagail.

“It took some convincing to remove a sliver of Fariddion to Earth. But after Tibbar and Astar held a Council on your behalf, they settled on this. There is one catch though.”

Abagail breathed out and sat down. She tried several fingers until she found that it slipped perfectly onto her right index finger. It fit perfectly. Slowly she looked into Rupert’s eyes.

“Please don’t stuff this up now, Rupert. This is the best I have felt in three days,” admitted Abagail. “Now I feel like myself again… at last! At bloody last.”

“No, nothing fallacious. No quests, no have‑to’s, no hidden agenda…”

“Good,” said Abagail, smiling and drinking some more tea. She placed her floral cup back onto the table and looked at Rupert.

“We don’t ever do this… it’s a temporary thing. You mustn’t get too attached to it. Unless…”

“Unless?” said Abagail, folding her arms to hide the ring of Fariddion, defiantly.

“It could give you much power not common on Earth. If anything remarkable happens, please keep me informed,” concluded Rupert.

Rupert lifted his glasses up and looked deep into Abagail’s eyes. He sensed nothing except her normal self.

“I am sorry that you went through that,” sighed Rupert.

“You should be,” scowled Abagail.

He jumped up. “Right… do you still need that holiday, or has that part of you returned from its own holiday and settled back into its proper place once more?”

Abagail sighed.

“I’m back… no more holiday required,” she said, firmly. “But I think I’ll still take the day off tomorrow… but for now… back to business. I love my shop.”

She sighed.

“I’m off to the beach then. Bye!” said Rupert.

Rupert let his glasses slide back down onto his nose and vanished. Slowly the sunglasses also vanished.

Abagail waited a moment, then sat back down to study the wispy clouds circling slowly within the ring. She stood up and clicked off the light. The room went dark, but her ring stayed gently glowing. Her eyes stayed watching as she slipped back into her chair. She was totally happy. She huffed with glee. A feeling not unsimilar to the beginning of a mild orgasm caused her to jolt slightly and feel flushed. She held her hands flat against her heart and wished she was back at home with Roper on her lap in this moment.

Abagail closed her eyes and thankfully felt totally at peace.

“So nice… OKAY!” she said in a loud sigh and stood up.

Opening her eyes, she saw that she was back at home looking out on her garden.

“What? WHAT!!!” she shrieked.

Abagail watched her grandfather clock strike twelve midday by the buffet in her living room. She ran past Roper and looked at herself in the standing mirror in the entrance. Roper hurried past and hid under her chair.

“Oh my GOODNESS!” she screamed. “How did I get here?”

Abagail walked back to her chair and sat down. It was her wish to be here, she concluded, totally unsure. Three past twelve. Abagail suddenly remembered she had an appointment at twelve. She needed to be there now.

She took one step forward from her chair in the crazy notion of trying to get back to her shop, and her second step caused her to bang her knee against the coffee table back in the medium room of Spiritual Gifts.

“Ow… God… I’m back…? I’m back! Rupert, what in the name of… have you given me?” she whispered, astonished.

A knock came to the door.

“Get in here, fella. You and I need to discuss this little thing on my finger immediately!”

The door opened and in walked a young man with two coffees in his hands.

“Sorry… umm, my appointment? Right?” he said. “Henry Applegate.”

Abagail finally closed her mouth. “Henry?”

“Yes, I’m Henry. We had an appointment for twelve,” he said timidly. “Am I late?”

“Ohh… right…” Abagail sat down thoughtfully. “Mhmm. Okay, take a seat.”

Abagail watched Henry take a seat.

“Tea?” she asked, desperate to get another minute alone to herself to gather some composure.

“No… I brought you a coffee just by chance if you needed one. I know you’re busy. It’s okay if you don’t. I—”

“No no, that’s okay… I’ll be back in a minute… or two,” said Abagail indecisively, before quickly departing the room.

Abagail threw water on her face from the small sink outside the door of the single toilet and looked at herself in the mirror, which was surrounded by stickers of small sunflowers. The clouds continued to move around the clear casing on her finger.

“What is this?” she wondered. 'Pa... I know what it is. Fariddion,' she said, thoughtfully.

Eventually she had to pull away from its attraction and head back to the medium room.

Abagail slowly opened the door and sat down to face Henry. She accepted the coffee and took a huge gulp of the warm drink.

“I don’t really drink coffee… but I’ll make an exception this time.”

Abagail nearly finished the medium‑sized cup with her second gulp.

“Wow, you’re like, really thirsty,” said Henry, smiling.

Abagail suddenly caught a look in Henry’s eyes. Shy, smiling, affectionate. He fancies me, she realised.

“Henry…”

“Yes?” he asked, feeling hopeful.

“What brings you here today?” asked Abagail, grinning.

Over his shoulder, Abagail now noticed an old woman with bright red hair. Abagail smiled at her.

“Who’s the woman with bright red hair in your life?” she asked.

“No one,” he said, taking a sip.

“She’s wearing a long leopard‑skin coat, and—”

“Grandma! That’s Grandma,” smiled Henry. “Yeah, she loved that coat!”

“I’m watching out for him,” said Grandma to Abagail.

“She says she’s watching out for you,” said Abagail plainly.

“Cool… thanks, Grandma.” Henry smiled.

“Grandma also says to stop looking at your phone while driving. It’s dangerous. Very dangerous for you. She’s really serious about you knowing this, Henry!” explained Abagail. “Wow, she’s coming through so clearly!”

Abagail twisted her new ring on and off her finger as she spoke. For a moment she took the ring off to clean her hands with moisturizer — her hands felt dry. She looked up and Grandma looked much fainter. Abagail shrugged and put the ring back on. Suddenly Grandma was clearly visible.

Realising a possible correlation, Abagail took off the ring and placed it onto the table. Again, Grandma became less focused and foggy.

“Right,” nodded Abagail, impressed.

“Wow, what did she say?” asked Henry.

“Umm, nothing, I… I just thought of something. It’s nothing. What would you like to ask her next?” smiled Abagail.

After Henry left, Abagail sat quietly thinking.

“There is so much I could do with this. I wonder… I…”

She closed her eyes and thought about her big comfy bed.

“I wish I was lying on it,” she said and closed her eyes.

Abagail opened her eyes and she was back at home lying on her bed.

“Oh my GOD!” gasped Abagail. “Ohh…”

She ran her hands down along the sheets and tingled with excitement.

“Shit!” said Abagail, realising her next client was due.

In a panic she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and wished to be back in the medium room.

As she appeared in the medium room, she also found that Clare was standing in the room with the next client, looking at her books discussing the planets.

“Hello,” said Abagail, taking the bull by the horns.

“Oh geez!” said the lady client, turning about. “I didn’t hear you come in!”

“Sorry. Thanks, Clare,” said Abagail, happily sitting on her chair.

“I couldn’t find you anywhere?” said Clare, frowning. Clare shrugged and left with a smile. “Have fun, Mrs Davis. You never know with our unpredictable manageress what she’ll turn up.”

Clare closed the door and Abagail asked Mrs Davis to take a seat. Straight away an old man holding a baby appeared behind Mrs Davis. Abagail knew exactly where this conversation was going.

*

Heather walked into Spiritual Gifts and chatted with Clare politely until Abagail was finished.

"How much can you lift?" smiled Clare, fantasizing.

Heather placed her in a new fantasy by placing her hands under Clare's arm pits and lifting her up off the floor with ease.

Mrs Davis walked past looking intrigued and wiggled her fingers at Clare in a goodbye fashion and left. Only later would she wonder how on earth was that small woman so strong.

“Come in,” said Abagail, sitting in her chair making some notes about her meeting, as Heather swaggered in and took a seat.

“How are you?” asked Abagail, briefly glancing up as she finished typing on her tablet.

“We’re driving up to Vegas today to sign our contract,” said Heather in a matter‑of‑fact way. “We’ll be gone for three, possibly four days.”

“I know, I’ll miss you,” said Abagail, placing her tablet down and finishing the last sip of Henry’s coffee.

“It’s only three days, girlfriend. Are you sad? You… look much more settled today. That’s good,” nodded Heather. “Wilbur is just getting coffee and cake for the drive next door.”

“I’ll survive,” said Abagail, standing.

Heather walked forward and placed her arms around Abagail. She closed her eyes and leaned up to kiss her on the mouth.

Abagail vanished.

“Ohh no!” said Heather in alarm.

A knock came to the door as Abagail walked in, grinning.

“Did you miss me?” said Abagail.

“How did you do that?” demanded Heather. “Abagail? You scared me! I thought someone… I don’t understand?”

Heather, for once, didn’t have an answer.

“Just a little trick Rupert showed me this morning,” teased Abagail.

Heather jumped forward and held her tight.

“Please don’t do that again without warning me, Abagail. I am not used to the feelings of this… I… I love you!”

Abagail gave her a quick kiss.

“I love you too, and I hope you and Wilbur have the best time up in Vegas.”

“Come with us. I want you to come with us,” pleaded Heather. “You’re my girlfriend.”

“I promise I will show up… okay? Maybe Saturday,” suggested Abagail, looking at her watch. “Sorry, Heather, I have another client due any tick of the clock. Come on,” smiled Abagail, taking Heather by the hand.

They walked outside onto the footpath as Wilbur walked over.

“Hi Abagail! Wonderful day!” said Wilbur, winking.

“Glorious,” nodded Abagail.

Wilbur passed Heather her coffee and cake.

“Are you ready?” asked Wilbur, gently.

Heather nodded and smiled at Abagail.

“See you soon,” nodded Heather once.

She turned away and crossed over the road holding hands with Wilbur to his gold‑coloured sports car.

Standing out front of Spiritual Gifts, Abagail waved goodbye. As they drove off waving, Abagail’s next client arrived by her side.

“Hi Abagail,” smiled Sue.

“Hey Sue,” said Abagail, momentarily smiling. "You all better come inside then."

Sue looked unsure what Abagail meant.

As she held the door open for Sue to go in and her passed relatives, Abagail watched the golden sports car turn out of sight. Abagail turned the colourful ring around with her right thumb, smiled to herself while gazing at the ring, then went inside.

Astar stood next to an old oak tree in the park across the road holding Tibbar in her arms.

“Are you sure she’ll be alright, Tibbar?” asked Astar.

“Only time will tell,” giggled Tibbar.