 
### The Great Vampire Robbery

Copyright 2015 Joseph Barone

Published by Joseph Barone at Smashwords

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11
Chapter 1

Sitting in the waiting room full of people, Roy thought to himself, "This is what passes for people these days." There were some goblin and orc families seated fairly far apart from one another, naturally. They were on opposite sides of the room and intent on avoiding eye contact at all costs. Roy never understood why goblins and orcs hated each other so much. "They're practically the same," he muttered. At the far wall an orc baby began crying its impish heart out because an elf child took control of the rocking chair they were "sharing". "Someone stake me now," Roy thought.

Roy was a daywalking vampire, as close as a vampire could get to being a vegetarian. He could walk in the sun during the day, fed on animals, and at times would drain the life energy from other creatures. However, he always asked their permission first, since he was no hunter. Often he fed on girlfriends, and usually they said yes to shut him up. For Roy, feeding from his girlfriends was a quirky sexual endeavor. He is currently single.

It's important to note that the daywalker prefers blood, like any other vamp. In the absence of animal blood, breathing in a person's qi is fair game to provide a daywalker sustenance. It doesn't have many "calories", or the vampire equivalent, but it holds the vampire over until the next rat or cat or dog. Or chicken.

The other kind of vampire- nightwalkers, the ones in the legend books - were extremely rare. As a matter of fact the current classification for a pure vampire was "extinct." Eco-nuts tried for decades to "Save The Vampires" with no luck. The biggest reason was that their natural prey, namely humans, had actually been wiped out long ago.

"Next!" the old troll receptionist harumphed.

"Finally," Roy thought, acknowledging the orc father seething with envy across the bench. Orcs were never given priority.

When he went into the examination room the shaman, Dr. Jerry Veejay greeted him, "Hey Roy, I'm sorry you had to wait so long, I had a lady with the biggest wart you'd ever seen." He made a circle wrapping the palm of his right hand over his left fist. "Took a lot of elixirs and balms, smoke and chanting to get rid of it. Hold on a sec, let me clear the rest of my day- Fangra! Cancel the rest of my appointments! Tell them all to go home!" he said to the toothless troll receptionist.

"Ok, Dr. Veejay," she replied nicely over the phone intercom. Then to the impatient patients, "Everyone get the hell ou--" Jerry closed the door on her yelling.

"Aren't you required by federal law not to talk about your patients, Jerry?"

"Well, I didn't tell you Moira's name or anything," Jerry said with a wink, handing Roy a red bottle. "By the way, did you notice that goblin father with that elf kid out there? Guess how that happened. I'll give you a hint- his wife's ex-boyfriend is an elf," he laughed. "Oh lighten up; it's no big deal to talk about patients. It's harmless. Besides, they can't really enforce that rule. The Bureau of White Magic has enough problems to worry about as it is. Black magic is too accessible, too tempting to people. Too much reward for too little risk. That's part of the reason they got their hands full- they can't recruit top magical talent worth anything. They just can't pay 'em."

Roy took a sip of his red drink in the medical bottle. "What the hell is this? Chicken blood?"

The shaman tittered and nodded. "Well, goat blood is a little pricey for medicinal use. So we use chicken blood as a generic treatment. It's usually just as good. Time was, all you needed was oil, water, a smoke machine, an egg, and goat blood. Now, all these hexes and spells are getting so damn complicated I have to refer people to sorcerers and witches because they have the specialized skills to fix these things. It's all less money in my pocket, especially with universal healthcare."

Roy nodded as he smacked his lips. "This really grows on you."

The shaman looked around his office. "So listen. Let me cut to the chase. I know some people who got their hands on human blood. They've been trying to sell it. They have to sell it quick before it goes bad. It's from a really old underground bunker, a 'rainy day' blood bank set up by the old U.S. human government. Before it expires, it'll be good for potions and a few other concoctions. After it expires, you can use it as paint, or a nice sauce. Won't be worth as much. Anyway, are you interested?"

Roy considered. "Well, you know I never really drank human blood; I don't know what it tastes like or if there are side effects." He took a slow pull from his chicken juice and savored it.

"That's right, you're practically a vegetarian! Well, would you go in half with me to buy a shipment? We could sell it on the sly for thousands of dollars. There's a high black market demand. The more time that passes, the more rare human blood is. The rarer it is, the more people are willing to pay for it. Certain spells can only work with viable human blood."

Roy shook his head emphatically, licking his blunt canines after another swig of chicken blood. "Who would buy it? The main demographic that would pay are nightwalkers, and they're just as extinct as humans. No one's seen a nighttime vampire in ten years."

The shaman's neck feathers ruffled. "Well, I don't know- zombies might enjoy some fresh human blood as a cocktail. Voodoo practitioners might need it in some of their castings. I'm telling you, we could make a fortune at any rate. There would be plenty of interest."

"Do you really want human blood falling into the wrong hands, like a dark wizard or something, Jerry? Who knows what it could be used for?"

"Probably for no good, but that's not my business. My business is to make extra money so I don't have to do this shamanic hocum any more. That's right, I want to retire! I'm half wizard anyway. Wizards can't be stuck in the nine to five rodeo. I need to see the world, go to casinos, bars, drive nice cars, reap the good life."

"You? A wizard? Get the hell out of town, Jerry. Do you have any more of this chicken goo?" He shook the empty bottle at the shaman.

"Hell yes I'm a wizard! And my son is too- he's actually grounded for doing black magic. He's a regular evil Houdini. Once when he was seven, he made me fart frogs, if you can believe that. Another time at nine years old, he overheard my wife complain that I was a wet blanket in bed, and he turned me into a dry blanket. He had no idea what it meant, but his evil little mind made me a piece of linen."

"Maybe he's a wizard because your wife's a witch. It could be maternal."

"She's no witch! She's a were-cow."

"Not a nice thing to say about your wife, Jerry."

"Well it's true; I don't give a damn. It's better than being a witch, anyway. Witches are ugly."

"And cows are more your thing?"

At that precise moment, the air became thick with smoke. Flashes of light and sparkles of pink fluttered right before their eyes. A 10 inch tall fairy appeared, holding a scroll in her tiny hands. She was dressed in a sparkling purple gown and a mini tiara. As she unfurled the scroll, pixie dust wafted into the noses of Jerry and Roy, prompting "kachoos" and "hachaks", respectively.

She spoke like a mouse whose voice was sped up on a recorder:

"The President of the United States of America, Zylex the Gorgon, hereby invites Dr. Jerrold Veejay and two guests to a Presidential Ball at the White House. There will be fine dining, dancing and entertainment. There will also be a rare, once in a lifetime exhibit. There is to be a nightwalking vampire on display, in the flesh, acquired by the President on a safari, at taxpayer expense. And yes, it's alive! Come marvel at the creature before it's slaughtered and served as the main course!"

Then, she exploded.

"A nightwalker?? Living? That's impossible."

"Not impossible, I mean nothing's impossible, right?" said Jerry.

"Maybe it's a hoax like that fiasco at Madison Square Garden, when those tricksters had a Necromancer in the background manipulate a dead human that was wearing fangs."

"Yeah, but maybe it's not...do you know what this means?" mused Jerry.

"What?" replied Roy.

"Where there are vampires, there's humans...uncharmed, un-enchanted, and in the flesh. This long, that nightwalker had to have access to a regular supply of them. And where there are humans, there's human blood, right in their precious veins..."

Roy scratched his chin. "You're right ... fresh human blood. Literally as fresh as can possibly be. Worth a fortune..."

"There's no way that this is a coincidence. Roy, I think we have a heist to plan. We need to get our hands on that blood! We'll save the creature and then it'll lead us to the humans. This is a perfect opportunity to gain financial independence! You heard what the fairy said- they're going to kill the creature and then the opportunity will be lost!"

"A heist?" said Roy. "No way, Veejay."

"Oh come on! You're unemployed. What else do you have to do? Are you scared we'll get caught?"

"Hell yeah! How many heists have you planned before this?"

"That's not the point. The point is I won't have to do this menial labor anymore. You won't have to drink low grade chicken blood anymore. It's nothing but royal goat blood from here on in. And, we'll be stealing a part of history. Not to mention, we'll be saving a vampire. That should speak to you a little. What if it were you in that cage? Come on, what do you say?

Roy scratched his chin. "I guess you do have a point. You're not gonna let me refuse, are you?"

"No."

"Alright fine! No risk, no reward I guess. But I still don't trust you to plan it. For example- how can we ensure that the nightwalker will lead us to the humans once we free it?"

"I'll figure it out. I'm a genius."

"A harmless one. We need an evil genius. We need your son Damien. He's gifted."

Jerry turned ashen beneath his striped face paint. "Definitely not."

"You said yourself he knows black magic very well. We can't rely on your shaman tricks for any of the heist. And you have three invitations. He's the perfect choice. A wizard extraordinaire."

"Except he's an egotistical, spoiled brat. He doesn't work well in groups." Roy started to object but was stifled by a huff from Jerry. "We'll find someone else to help plan, but no black magic. No Damien. Come on. We've talked about this too much here. We'll go elsewhere and figure it out."

Roy followed Jerry out of the room. As they were passing the receptionist, Jerry casually called back, "Cancel my appointments for the rest of the week, Fangra. I'm going to be busy."

"No sir, doctor. I'm afraid I can't do that."

Jerry and Roy stopped short. They turned back to the old troll, who was making her way towards them, both waddling and stomping.

"I want in," she said.

Roy looked at Jerry, who shook his head dramatically. "What are you talking about?"

"The heist," Fangra whispered. "I want in."

"How did you ..."

"You left the door open a crack. And you yell when you talk, I don't know if you know that. It's impossible not to overhear you, even for me."

Jerry shook his foot nervously. "You can't come. You're too ... big. And clumsy to be involved. Sorry."

"This big clumsy troll's gonna sit on you if you don't count me in. I can contribute, you know. I'm smarter than the average troll. And I'm strong."

"We can't talk about this here," whispered Roy. "It might be unsafe. We might be overheard by the patients of the other shamans that are still here."

The entire waiting room was looking at them. Jerry stammered and turned a lovely shade of green. Roy shifted behind Fangra, who turned to the crowd in her grumbliest voice and said while hopping, "AHHHHH! My crazy medicine's not working! Also, I want to eat a goblin like, all the time, do you know what that feels like?"

The biggest demographic in that part of town was goblin, so most of the waiting room was full of them. They became skittish at the increasingly agitated troll thundering and thrashing about. And like that they were gone. No protest. No violence. Even the other shamans quick-stepped out of there. The three conspirators were left alone in the office.

"She's good," said Roy. "It wouldn't be the worst thing to let her in."

"But she's so ugly," said Jerry.

"I'm right here you ass."

"No offense meant, Fangra," Jerry said, "but I think it seems a little weird to bring a troll to the President's Ball."

"Have you seen his wife?" Fangra cried to Roy, almost as a plea.

"Disguise her," said Roy. "You could turn her into another creature. Something beautiful, right?"

"That's the most ridiculous thing I ever heard," said Jerry. "Even if I did make her look like something else, I'd have to spend the whole evening by her side, keeping up the spell. It's too impractical. And my magic isn't exactly the best."

Roy smiled slowly. "You can't do it, can you?"

Jerry turned on him sharply. "I never said that."

Roy nudged Fangra. "He didn't have to."

Jerry pushed past them and made his way to the back office.

"Where are you going?" Roy asked.

"To summon my son."

Roy and Fangra hurried after Jerry. Roy closed the office door behind him, even though the floor was empty. If they were really going to do this, they had to be careful. Jerry stuck his head in one of the cabinets and pulled out a crystal ball. He put it between his hands, and it started to float. The ball became cloudy as Jerry began chanting to it. Minutes passed. Slowly, a face began to appear.

"What do you want old man?" it said. "And why couldn't you just use your cell phone? It took me forever to find my crystal ball."

"I need you to come to my office Damien."

"No can do. All those sick creatures and that gross troll lady really make me uncomfortable."

"Oh no he didn't!" Fangra made a leap for the ball, but Jerry moved it in time.

"Is that her?" said Damien.

"He didn't mean any offense Fangra," said Jerry. "He's sorry about that."

"No I'm not."

"Look here young man, you come to my office now, do you hear me? We need your help."

"I'm not cleaning goblin vomit again. I have no idea why every 'Take Your Brat to Work Day', I'm stuck cleaning vomit. Other kids get to go to Wall Street and manipulate the stock prices through magic. But me, I'm the vomit cleaner. I'm too old for 'Take Your Brat to Work', anyway. Also, that's like a month from now. What were we talking about?" It was obvious that he was playing video games during the entire conversation so far.

Roy grabbed the ball from Jerry. "Listen, I know you think your dad's uncool, but we're actually planning a heist to steal human blood, and we need some black magic. We know that you're a wizard savant so we're hoping to use your abilities."

There was a pop, and Damien was no longer seen in the crystal ball, but standing next to Roy. Vampires were tall, even vegetarian vampires, and Roy was no exception. Damien barely came to his shoulder, but what Damien lacked in height he made up for in attitude. "I hope that line was secure old man."

"It was," said Jerry. "I'm not an idiot."

"So, a heist? You're kidding, right?"

"No," said Roy. "You're dad has three invitations to the Presidential Ball, and they're having a nighttime vampire as their entertainment-slash-food. They're going to parade probably the last vampire around. The President caught it on safari."

"They're extinct."

"Not quite," said Jerry. "Not if the President has one."

"OK, let's say I believe you. What are we stealing? A vampire? Or what the vampire knows?"

Roy turned to Jerry for confirmation. "Both. The blood won't be there, will it? We need the vampire to take us to it."

"We can't sell a whole vampire on the black market," said Jerry. "And I don't think he'll give up his store of fresh human blood easily. To be honest I'm getting cold feet about the whole thing. What are we even talking about doing? Maybe it really is a bad idea."

"You don't know that," said Roy. "Like you said, blood goes bad. Maybe if we help him to freedom, he'll help us to the blood out of appreciation for our help. Maybe we can make a deal easier than you think."

"How do you know it's a male vampire?" said Damien. Everyone looked at him. "What? It's a fair question. Personally, I think they have a girl nightwalker. I have a feeling. A female makes more sense to me."

"That's possible," said Roy.

A few moments passed of Damien mulling things over, rubbing his chin the whole time. "So. Do you have any layouts? Floor plans? Any wait staff schedules for the night? Anything to go off of?"

"I have three invitations," said Jerry. "That's it."

"Eager to please as always, old man. I guess the daywalker and Hot-lips here aren't much better about the data. I'll get you your information on the location. I'll find out where they're keeping the vampire, if and how they're feeding her, and maybe then we'll have something to work with."

"I was going to suggest that," said Jerry.

"Of course you were. Later." With a small pop he was gone, only a small wisp of smoke left behind him. Roy looked at Jerry.

"You're right," Roy said. "He's a piece of work."

"Yeah, but like you said, we need him for our little project," said Jerry. "How do you suppose he's going to find out where they're keeping the vampire without getting caught?"

"When your son practices black magic, at some point you've got to stop asking questions and just let it go."

"Sounds like bad parenting," said Fangra.

"Safe parenting. I haven't punished him since he was 14 months old. As soon as he learned to talk, he learned to cast spells. I guess we've got nothing to do until Damien has the information. Who wants pizza and ice cream?"

Chapter 2

Damien summoned everyone to his father's living room the next day to plan the heist. Summon might be too soft of a word; they were transported from their warm beds and dumped onto the living room floor at 5AM. SMASH!

"Dammit, what the hell!" Jerry exclaimed, perturbed. "My frigging couch and my coffee table! What in the name of all that is magical is going on?"

"Ow my ass!" ejaculated Fangra. "I landed from a dream where I was a princess in the Realm of Chocolate onto my ass! On a pointy thing." She rubbed where it smarted.

Roy had landed softly onto a pillow and so was therefore unperturbed. He sat on the couch and started drinking red liquid from an Albania Spring bottle.

Damien quickly clapped his hands twice in rapid succession. He wore all black, including black fingerless gloves and a black winter cap.

"Alright now listen up! This ain't no game. We're breaking into the damn White House and stealing something belonging to President Zylex. We need to be aware of all the challenges we will be facing to undertake this extraordinary feat. I think it's safe to say nobody here has any clue how hard this is going to be except me, so clear your ears and open your eyes."

"I'm guessing you brought us here to discuss 'the plan'? Whatever happened to a simple Facebook invite?" chortled Fangra.

"This was funnier. Okay, so--"

"Wait wait wait," started Roy, while Jerry continued to make sounds of disbelief in the background. "What's the mission objective, anyway? Does anybody really know, here?"

"What do you mean?"

"What I MEAN, Damien, is what are we after? Is the vampire itself the objective, or are the humans that the vampire is feeding from the objective? Are we stealing the vampire, or are we stealing information from him? Human blood is among the most expensive and endangered commodities on Earth. How are we getting it? Are we taking the vampire in the flesh, or can we somehow tease out what he knows about where they are?"

"Well, you should let me finish, Roy. Or actually, let me start because you didn't let me do that. Our mission objective will be to capture the vampire. She's going to know we're coming, and she'll take part in the heist. She'll help us once we're in."

Jerry finally made his way to the blackish couch and plopped onto it. "What is this 'she' crap again? How do you know it's a girl?"

"Because I've made contact with her, dad. Her name is Xandra."

"It sounds Elvish."

"It is."

"What the hell? So she's an elf? The President's lying?"

"No. Dad, and everyone else." Damien growled in frustration. "Remove the wax from your brains, and let me explain. Many nightwalkers went to live with the Dark Elves, and they blended in very well. This is how some vampires were able to escape vampire hunters and extinction. Some had always been there among the Dark Elves, acting as protectors. The elves gave them shelter and human blood in return for protection. They've had a symbiotic relationship for centuries but kept it hidden. So, some vampires are heavily entrenched in Elvish culture. You shouldn't underestimate how dangerous they are, though. Dark Elves and vampires are quite powerful, especially together."

"So it-he...SHE isn't the last one, then. And how exactly did you make contact with her?" Roy asked, eyes wide. The bottle of chicken blood he drank was caffeinated.

Damien puffed out his chest and pretended to shine his nails on his collar. "The White House has radar that checks for any magic infiltration, so you can't just send out feelers. It has a magic receiver on top of the flagpole attached to a long antenna, and it sweeps in a circle around the compound so that it completes 360 degrees every 12 seconds. It was tricky, but I transported myself to just outside the perimeter, making sure not to get caught. I probed the White House psychically once the radar passed me, and once I got a lock on her, I forged a psychic connection.

"It's perfect that she's a vampire, from a collaboration point of view. They have many mentalist-type gifts. She's scared, I can feel that. And hungry, a hunger such that you could not imagine. They're not feeding her in there. Which means the White House doesn't have any humans. She won't give up any details about her humans unless we successfully break her out. That's the deal.

"Once I found her, I reprogrammed the radar so that instead of turning around and around in a circle, it would oscillate like a fan, stopping just before it reached her each time. That way we could have a conversation that lasted longer than 12 seconds. I asked her to give me a layout of the place, and she did the best she could. I think I have enough details to go on. She's eager to work with us so it'll be like we have an inside man...I mean vampiress."

"Can I ask one obvious question nobody has yet?" asked Roy, raising his hand above his widely open eyes. "Why did the President invite you to this elite, elite, exclusive party, Jerry? I mean he didn't invite the director of the BWM, or the Inspector General, because it's illegal to own vampires!"

Jerry snickered, bristling his feathers again. "You're a very suspicious person, you know that? For your information, I'm very active in the Republican party, and I've donated hundreds of thousands to the campaign over the years. My dedication to the party makes me a VIP. And also... Gorgons are very persuasive, alright? It was 'turn to stone, or donate', so, what do you think I did?"

"Does anybody want to know how the hell we're getting this frigging vampire?" thundered Fangra. "Damien, please go ahead with the Powerpoint over there, and NO INTERRUPTIONS!"

"Ok," said Damien, "let's go step by step, and move forward slowly. First, we need to get ready. I'm going to be invisible, so I'll be below the radar. I'll have potions, balms, spell scrolls, amulets, and a couple of magic rings on me in case we need anything readily available. In case I need to react on my feet.

"The eminent Dr. Jerry Veejay is going to be all tuxed out- sorry Dad, you're going to have to put up some dough for the tuxedo rental. Got to spend money to make it. Roy, his effeminate friend is going to be a third wheel as usual, and Fangra, his wife, is going to be in a designer gown with a low cut top, revealing fruits more luscious than the melons in Oberon's Realm."

"Two questions." This came from a new voice. Feminine. Small but strong. A short woman with dark shoulder length hair was standing in a white bathrobe at the top of the staircase to the second floor. "About Fangra- she's a troll, so how is she going to wear that dress and two, I'M his wife, and I want in. I should be on his arm instead of a hideous monster."

Fangra snorted in a huffy way. Damien hurried on with his plan.

"I've got something else up my sleeve for you Mom. You're going to help us get in. You're going to be our gift to the president. We're going to bring you to the White House in cow form. They'll likely put you in a menagerie with other animals. Once you're in there, you'll shift back into a human and head for the vampire. You're going to let her know we're coming. You'll be the first to get to her."

"Oh yeah, sure I'll do that," Bessie said sarcastically. "Except for the fact I'm going to be friggin naked in front of everyone. Did you think about that? Go up to your room." Bessie had a bristly, bovine personality.

Jerry spoke up, "Honey, we're doing something right now, so why don't you just go outside and eat some grass. Grass helps my little moo cow when she's grumpy." He patted her head patronizingly.

Ignoring Jerry, Bessie asked, "Why would the president want a Holstein cow? Don't get me wrong- I'm in, but why do you think this part of the plan would work? And what would I do once I find the vampire?"

"Because without humans to raise the cows, millions of cows died on farms," said Damien. "They're endangered and exotic, and an excellent gift to the leader of the free world."

"Premier Guenzhou from the People's Republic of China?"

"No, President Zylex. You always have to have political commentary. And once you get to her, you wait, you scope out the situation and react as necessary. You'll help me once I get there."

"Ok, what about the troll, how is she going to fit into a dress?"

Damien paused. "I don't know if you and dad know this, I guess you always suspected, but I sell, you know, merchandise on the DL. I sell ingredients for magic castings. But I keep the best stuff for myself. I've got blue toad warts, Giant nail crusts, rabbit testicles, Dragon gallstones, tons of 'stuff''. If I don't have a full beautifying kit for Fangra, I can definitely scrounge one up. We'll make her look like an Elf version of Helen of Troy.

"Also, the Secret Service is going to have magic detectors, both handheld and full sized, so we need to coat Fangra in a very special oil that masks magic. I'll be with you on this heist, but I'll be invisible, so I need to be coated in the oil too."

Fangra humphed. "So you're going to make me a beautiful voluptuous woman who's also sticky and greasy?"

"Well, you'll look a little shiny, yeah, but we can maybe put some glitter in the oil so you can look like you're from New Jersey."

Bessie rolled her eyes. She disappeared into the kitchen. She pitter pattered on the hardwood floor, went to the door, opened it and then walked out, slamming it.

Damien continued. "Okay, this preparation needs time- we're going to have to have everything ready-to-the-get-set-go by an hour before the ball. Once we get to the party, which will be held in the East Wing, we need to get past the detectors. Dad, Boy Toy Roy, and Mom should be fine because they're legit. They have legitimate reasons for being there and won't be smuggling any items. They'll pass the magic test. Fangra and I are what we have to worry about. If they don't detect magic on us, we're through to stage 2."

"What's stage 2?" asked Roy.

"I'm getting to that," said Damien. "Unless there are any further interruptions."

Damien glared around the room, but the message was received for the time being, and he was able to proceed.

"Once we're in, mom, you need clothes. Where the hell is she?"

"Stuffing her face with grass," said Jerry.

"Now? I _hate_ repeating myself. Oy. Well, once she transforms back into a human, she'll be able to fit through the bars of her cage. I'll make a special bell for her to wear around her neck. Once she transforms, she'll ring the bell three times, and poof, she'll have clothes. I'll copy the uniforms for the event planners, which should allow her an all access pass through the building."

"I think she should be a chef instead," said Fangra philosophically.

"Shut up. I'm not finished yet. She'll have access to the building, making her way from the South Corridor to the kitchen, down the hall to the stairs to the basement. Once downstairs, she'll have to pass the guards on the pretext that she is prepping the vampire for the event. That should work, but if it doesn't, we're going to have to get creative."

"What does that mean?" asked Jerry.

"There's no other way to Xandra except past the guards. If Mom can't get to her, she'll have to scout ahead in the hallways, making sure they're clear for us. She should get through though, because the event planners are running the show. The guards have been told to obey them in everything, so if she can play her part convincingly, we shouldn't have a problem."

"If she gets to the vampire, what are the rest of us doing?" asked Roy.

"Getting to Xandra is the easy part. Getting her out is the hard part."

"Put a spell on her to make her invisible," said Jerry.

"Turn her into a troll," said Fangra. "We're damn strong. She could break her own self out. She'd be inconspicuous. And then when she's completely free, change her back. "

"Vampires are just as strong you moron," said Jerry.

"What if another event planner comes to see the vampire at the same time?" asked Roy.

"Or the President?" said Jerry.

"Or..." Fangra's comment was cut short as her mouth disappeared from her face. Roy's mouth and Jerry's mouth disappeared a second later. Roy, Jerry, and Fangra looked silently to Damien, who smirked at the success of his hex.

"Don't worry. You'll get your mouths back when I'm finished. So Mom gets into the room with Xandra. Once she lets me know she's in, I make my way down there with Roy in tow. I can get us past the security, so we should be able to get to Xandra with little trouble. Once we're down there, we'll have to take out the guards for good so that we can get Xandra past them. Mom and Roy can try bending the silver bars. They're strong and silver doesn't affect them as much as it affects nightwalkers. If they're not strong enough, we can break the cage with a saw or something else. If any guards find us, Roy will have to take them out before they sound the alarm."

Roy struggled to sign with his hands, but it was unintelligible. Damien sighed and snapped his fingers; Roy mouthed re-materialized, though Jerry and Fangra still remained short one facial feature.

"I'm sorry, but what do you mean that I'll take out the guard? I'm a highly non-violent hipster type. I don't kill people."

"You won't have to. You just have to hit them. Violence would solve the problem. Alternately, you could just suck enough blood so they pass out."

"I don't drink that kind of blood."

"They're goblins."

"I only drink animal blood."

"Not to be racist, but goblins are practically animals. Look, you don't have to drink it. Just figure something out."

"If you're so powerful, why can't you just cast a spell on them? That would be easier, wouldn't it?"

"No. If we use too much magic, the Secret Service will find us. We can make it look like she escaped on her own. It's all about appearance. We need the authorities who'll be investigating to think that Xandra attacked the guards herself. Don't worry, I know you can handle a little confrontation."

Finished reassuring Roy, Damien continued. "There's just one teensy, tiny drawback. We may not have all the ingredients we need for our invisibility. I just remembered I'm missing a big ingredient. Faerie toenail shavings."

Roy, the only member of the gang equipped with a mouth, asked, "Can't it be replaced by something else that's close enough? The gala's very soon. I know you wizards, witches, and magic traffickers sometimes replace items in your potions with others of the same caliber."

Damien considered this unsolicited input. "Well I could, actually. I suppose I can switch it out with Daywalking Vampire bones, ground up into a fine powder." Five long seconds passed before he exploded with laughter. "You should have seen your face Roy. We're cool." He held his knuckles out for a fist bump, a relic from human times. Roy reluctantly knocked knuckles with him. "Plus it's a general potion strengthening ingredient. It will make all of our potions stronger. We need to control as many variables as possible. I go to school with a faerie; she's the only one in the school. It might be weird, but I'll call her up and ask her...for her toenail clippings."

Damien pulled out his phone. Everyone's mouths materialized. Jerry's first words with his prodigal mouth were, "Teenagers. Oy."

Fangra harumphed for the 47th time that morning. "If he forgot about an ingredient, what else is he not thinking of, Jerry? We're going to be sitting ducks. I'm rethinking my role in this thing- maybe your wife is right. I'll be on the sidelines rooting you guys on."

"The hell you will," roared Jerry while in the background snippets of "Glinda...hi, not much...yeah...was wondering...toenails?..." could be heard. "Fangra, we need to stick to this plan, everyone has a part. You'll look like a beautiful, noble Elf. You'll throw the people that we don't want on our scent, off our scent."

"How do you figure, Jerry? If everyone's looking at me and in our general direction, how can we do anything under the radar?"

" _We_ won't have to! We just have to eat fine dining from the president's huge kitchen staff. We relax and listen to the musicians and the speakers, we mingle, and we have a good time. The most important thing we have to worry about is not stuffing ourselves with hors d'oeuvres because it'll ruin our appetite for the first course, which is probably dolphin steak."

"I love dolphin steak! Do you think they'll have blue toad soup?"

"Without question." Jerry's stomach rumbled. "So, do we have a timed plan, Damien? Do we all synchronize our watches at the outside and have checkpoints we're supposed to reach?"

"Okay thanks Glinda. Please don't tell your boyfriend about this." He hung up.

"That's just all up in the air. There's nothing strict about the timings. Get in, take as long as we have to but not too long, and get out. Xandra gave me rough floor plans, not exact. Now, she's encased in a silver cage. Silver is very difficult to control with magic; as you know among its many properties, it's magic retardant. It's also, however, flimsy as far as metal goes. So like we said before we can either saw or clip her out in case we can't use strength. We'll need to bring a saw. "

Fangra's eyes began to flit wildly. "Are you going to have some kind of giant bag for all the things you need? You're going to be invisible, not a wraith. You'll bump into everything if you're dragging all that equipment."

"I'm hungry. This should have been a breakfast meeting," muttered Jerry.

"It'll all work out," said Damien. "I can fit almost a ton of equipment in my magic satchel and it'll be light as a feather.

"Dad and Fangra will enjoy the show. That's their job. Mom gets in as a cow and establishes contact with Xandra after turning back into human form- _with_ clothes. I go around the various magical defenses in and around our target area and render them inoperable, without sounding an alarm. Roy- you have a special job. Like I said, you're going to help take out some of the guards. Strictly speaking, you might be a wussy vegetarian, but you're still a vampire and therefore very strong. The elixir I'm going to make for you is going to make you unnoticeable. You won't be invisible, but you might as well be. You can stand in the middle of a room and no one would notice. Some creatures are more sensitive to noticing you, like Elves, but there's not many in this administration. It's mostly minorities."

"The Secretary of State is Elvish!"

"It doesn't matter, but she's only half-elvish. The Vice President might look Elvish but he's a were-goat. We'll be fine. So to finish up, I'm bringing a monkey in my satchel. When we get Xandra out, I'm going to have them switch places."

"Hey hey woah woah now, switch them? You think they'll be fooled by a monkey? Where the hell did you get a monkey?" asked Jerry.

"I have friends who deal with strange pets. It's cool. So there's all these different kinds of spells out there in the ether- there are counters, enchantments, binding spells, detachment spells, etc. What we'll need is a transformation/ replacement spell, and I have a good one. It will make the monkey look exactly like Xandra. It'll smell like her, it'll appear to everyone on the outside that it's her. Of course, that wears off, so it should give us just enough time to slip out before they find out. Also, the monkey's going to die when it transforms back. That's a side effect of the spell."

"What about the vampire?"

"She's already dead. It wouldn't affect her anyway because I'm not turning her into a monkey. I'm making her invisible. But about the vampire- there's another little detail we have to face..."

Fangra chewed a chicken sandwich she made in Jerry's kitchen and spat morsels when she spoke. "Another thing you left out? Another little tidbit you left out?" Several tidbits went flying from her mouth.

Damien shifted on his feet. "She's sane at the moment, trapped in silver. It's torturous but the pain is overwhelming her hunger. Once we cut her out, she's going to try to kill us and drink all our blood, but not on purpose. She's been dry for weeks."

Jerry had an appearance of calm, hands folded over his lap. Bessie had come back into the room, chewing the last of the grass that was her breakfast. Jerry said, "She's going to kill you? If she's going to kill you, and Roy, and your mother, how would our mission be a success? Hm? Isn't that a deal breaker?" He blinked spasmically.

"Well, she wouldn't try to kill Roy, because he's a vampire. She would go after me and Mom because we're part human, and human is their sole diet. I propose...that we go after the cases of blood kept in storage by the old U.S. human government. We can use the blood to feed her and bring her back to sanity. And she wouldn't kill us if we bring her food, get her full."

"Go after it? One doesn't just go after it, like that. That's black market stuff."

Roy twitched sheepishly. "Yeah, but Jerry, you said that you know a guy who could get his hands on some for you."

"We would have to buy in bulk, and I'm not putting up that kind of money without a return on my investment."

"You're always talking about ROI and 401k and such silly nonsense," said Bessie. "Well, this is one time I side with my son." Jerry rolled his eyes at that. "I say we go for it. This is Damien's project, and we should be supportive. Besides, all you have to really do in this mission is eat food with some bimbo."

"This is my project!" cried Jerry.

"Who you calling a bimbo you mooing baboon?" Fangra nearly spat a chicken head at Bessie.

The lights suddenly went out and Bessie's eye became white. Her voice lost its smoky, sultry allure and became a deep baritone. "Mooooooooooooo! Bring it on, troll!"

Damien jumped between his mother and Fangra. "Alright, alright folks, this is all kind of heavy and we haven't had breakfast so I can understand everyone being on edge. That being said, let's do it. Let's make it happen. We don't usually get these chances. Let's steal a vampire! And then she'll lead us to the Dark Elves which is where the last of the humans are. We can harvest their blood for huge profits!"

Bessie folded her arms once the storm clouds passed. "What are you doing, Jerry?"

Jerry was counting his fingers slowly. "I'm counting how many hurdles we have to jump over before the actual heist. We have to get the faerie nails, which we don't have here at home. We have to actually prepare all the ointments and potions and spells and things, AND we have to drum up some expired human blood at great cost to me. You know, doctors don't actually make as much as advertised."

"No risk, no reward, isn't that what they say?" Damien said with a smile.

"I don't care what they say, Damien. I don't even know who they are. I don't know who anyone is when it comes to my money. Why don't we just call the whole thing off and I'll invest my money in social networking sites, and not risk life and limb."

Damien paced. "Because that's boring! And...we can't. We have to save Xandra."

Jerry unfolded his hands and stood up. "Why, Damien? Why do we 'have' to save Xandra?"

Damien looked unhinged for the first time since talk of a heist began to ferment. "She's a vampire princess whose people share the Old Woods with the Dark Elves. When I made contact with her, she made me promise to reach out to her people and tell them I was working on her escape. We're bound by my promise. We don't want to piss off a colony of vampires, or Dark Elves for that matter."

"Well, that's just great. Why the hell would you make a crazy promise like that to...Dark Elves and nightwalkers that until recently we thought were happily extinct like Megalodon?"

Damien stiffened slightly, his defense mechanism kicking in full swing. "At least I'm trying! I really bonded with Xandra, that's a side effect of the mind meld. She asked me to reach out to her clan, so I did!"

Jerry grabbed a handful of his own hair. "Damn it. This is too difficult. It's too much. You need to figure this all out a little bit better. Fix everything you need to fix and then we'll reconvene because as it goes, the way things are, we don't have the right plan to be successful. I'm sorry, son, I don't have much confidence that this is going to work. Hacking into the White House to make contact with Xandra is one thing. Physically removing the target is another. And now we're actually bound to do it under implicit threat of harm by vampires and elves."

Damien's face scrunched up like he would either cry or make everyone's noses explode. Roy, seeing that, decided to chide his friend.

"Jerry, please, this was always going to be a difficult heist to pull. We should have expected complications. With your son's efforts, we're closer than either of us would have been in trying to plan alone." Damien smiled slightly, and the tension seemed to be dissolving.

"Look, let's focus on the first steps, okay," Roy continued. "Let's work on getting the faerie toenails. When can we get that?"

"I can head over now," said Damien.

"Great. Then let's get a move on."

"Roy, you go with him," said Jerry. "The last thing we need is him losing focus with the pretty fairy. Just get in, clip her toenails and get out." Jerry's insecurities extended past his wife and to his son, and often resulted in passive-aggressive statements.

Before Damien could blow up, Roy grabbed him and yanked him out of the room, shouting a hurried, "You got it," to Jerry as he held Damien in tow.
Chapter 3

"You don't have to come with me you know," Damien said when they got outside.

"Oh come on," said Roy. "Are you trying to tell me that you don't like my company?"

"There's that, plus you'll just get in the way."

"It could be worse. You could be taking Fangra with you."

"True. Well, come on then." Damien grabbed hold of Roy's forearm. "You ever dematerialize before?"

"No."

"Good. So you don't know how disorienting it is."

In a blink they were gone, reappearing in front of Glinda's house. Damien let go of Roy, who crumbled to the ground, heaving and sputtering.

"You okay, buddy whose company I love?"

Roy sat up and focused on the mailbox, trying to make the world stop spinning around him. He caught his breath, and after a view blinks he glared at Damien.

"I dislike you a bit more now," Roy said. "Should have warned me or at least given me some Dramamine." He dry heaved.

"Yeah, but you heal quick. Come on."

As Roy stumbled behind Damien to the front door, he could already feel the side effects subsiding.

"Why can't we do that to get to Xandra?" Roy asked.

"Security. There are security blocks that even I can't get around. The White House is a magic dead zone. We have to go in and out the old-fashioned way."

"Yeah, really old-fashioned," said Roy.

They reached the front door. Damien rapped on it three times. Roy expected the house to be much smaller, considering it was a faerie's house. This looked like any other house on the street. Maybe they liked having the extra space.

The door creaked open, and Damien and Roy were greeted by an angry looking, short middle-aged man. This guy looked nothing like a faerie. He was about a head shorter than Damien but three times as round. He stared menacingly at them as they took in his girth, his stained t-shirt, his hefty bald spot, dirty stubble, socks, and sandals. "What this man needs is a shower and a shave," Roy thought. Roy looked skeptically at Damien. This couldn't be the right house.

"What do you want?" the fat man asked. Damien spoke up.

"Hi. We're here to see Glinda. I'm her friend from school."

"And who's he?" he said, flicking his head towards Roy.

"That's my friend, Roy. May we come in?"

"What did you say your name was?"

"I'm Damien. We have third period math together."

"Hold on."

He slammed the door in their face. A few minutes passed with no sound coming from the home but crickets. Then he reopened it.

"Come in." He led them to the living room, and as they followed behind him they saw that he was indeed a faerie, but his wings were about 5 sizes too small for his body. His wings looked like they belonged to a bumblebee rather than a faerie his size. Roy would have loved to see him fly, because there was no way those little things could support his weight without some help from magic. The faerie motioned for them to sit on a couch covered in a moth eaten old orange and black throw. He sat down in an armchair near the couch, never taking his eyes off of Damien and Roy.

"It's an honor to meet you ..." Roy hinted to a name.

"Glondo," the faerie grunted. "Why are you here?"

"I told you," Damien said politely. "We came to see Glinda."

"About what?"

"We can't stop by to say hi?" Glondo stared at them from heavy-lidded eyes. Apparently not. Damien cleared his throat and changed his tactic. "The truth is, I need some help with my math homework. Glinda's good at math and offered to help me out."

"What's the problem?"

"Um, what?"

"The math problem. What do you need help with?"

"Oh, you know, finding X. I'm not sure you would know, necessarily, the formula that we...." his voice trailed off.

"Try me." Not a smile. Not even a hint of personality in the tone of voice. Just cold, dead, beady black eyes.

"Ok. Uh, well, we're working with inverse tangent functions. I have my calculator, but I just don't get it." Damien pulled a graphing calculator out of his pocket. This had better work. Roy thought it was a believable story. It was better than the truth at any rate. Better a dummy than a wierdo.

Papa Fairy looked up at him with an amused expression.

"My daughter has a boyfriend you know."

Roy saw Damien bite his lip. This guy was ridiculous. "Frigging let us cut your daughter's toenails already!" he thought. Not guy - Faerie. He was the biggest faerie Roy had ever seen. Roy thought the Fae were supposed to be tiny. What the hell did Glinda look like?

Damien smiled his most charming smile at Glondo. "Sir, I know, and I respect that. I'm just here for homework help. I swear."

"Do you have any faerie in you?"

"No, sir. Wizard, but not faerie."

"That's not great, but it's better than whatever the hell her boyfriend is. Some kind of ghoul I think. I can respect wizard, but not ghoul. Can you imagine your daughter dating a ghoul?"

"It's better than a troll, right? Ugly, smelly creatures." He knew from experience.

"Troll's aren't shape-shifting little demons. You can't trust a shape-shifter. Isn't that right?" he asked Roy.

"Yeah, um, definitely not to be trusted," Roy stammered.

"Any chance you'd be looking for a relationship with a faerie?" he turned again to Damien.

"I'm sorry, what??" Damien asked. If the toenails weren't so important, Roy would've laughed at Damien's expression. All of Damien's arrogance had disappeared when they entered Glondo's house, and now he was blushing up to his eyeballs.

"You seem decent enough," said Glondo. "If nothing else, you'd be a change."

"Um, well, sir I'm just here for my math homework. I mean, she is beautiful and sweet and smart. And funny..." he looked into the distance, then snapped out of it. "And really good at math, so any chance she can help me out?"

"And she will come down to help you when I say so. So, what do you say? Interested?"

"I'm not looking to break up a couple." Glondo shifted angrily, and Damien quickly added, "But she is an amazing catch, and if she were single, well, I think it's obvious where I stand."

"I'm glad we had this talk." Glondo patted Damien on the back. He was stronger than he looked. Damien gripped the side of the couch to keep from flying off. Glondo got up and waddled to the foot of the steps. "Glinda!" he bellowed. "Get down here!"

Glinda descended the steps quickly and lightly. She was much closer to Roy's idea of what a faerie should look like. Though she was, like her father, almost human sized, she was very petite and very pretty. She had shiny blue hair that hung in loose waves to the middle of her back. Her eyes were emerald green, and her eyelashes seemed to glitter when she blinked. Though she was young for a faerie, only a few hundred years old, she was already very curvy. Her mother had to be gorgeous to counter Glondo's foul genes.

"Your friend needs help with his math homework," said Glondo indifferently.

"I know Daddy. He called ahead. He's a real bone head when it comes to school. He's gifted in wizardry and potioning but alas, geometry is his undoing." They waited, but Glondo made no to effort to leave. "Well, if you don't mind Daddy ..."

He didn't move. They all stared at him, but he hunkered down into his armchair.

"Go ahead. I won't interrupt."

"Daddy, Damien's really bad at math, and you'll make him uncomfortable."

"I'm bad at math too. Nothing to be ashamed of. I might learn something. I mean, I only find X every once in a while. Plus the TV is in here."

Glinda's eyes twinkled with an idea, and it was obvious she had been listening at the steps earlier.

"Alright Daddy, but I would be much more comfortable if you left. I mean, how can I talk to a cute boy like Damien with my dad watching my every move? Oh well. By the way, can I invite Graham over for dinner again tonight?"

Glondo weighed the pros and cons in his head. With a sigh and a grumble he said, "You know what, you kids could use some time alone. I'll go do ... something."

Roy got his wish. Glondo flew out of the room relatively quickly, though he hung pretty close to the ground. Still, given his size, it was pretty impressive. Suddenly Glondo popped his head back into the room. "And that's a no for Graham coming to dinner." With that, he was gone.

"I thought I had it bad," said Damien.

"Yeah, well, he's harmless enough when we're alone. But when any of my friends come over, forget it."

"He's not gonna make us stay for dinner, is he?"

"Let's get this done quickly so he doesn't have the chance."

She flew above the couch and wiggled herself between Roy and Damien. The couch was small, and it was a tight fit for the three of them. Roy shifted to his right trying to make room. Then he got up and walked away. Glinda remained where she was. Damien didn't seem bothered by Glinda's proximity. She leaned forward and pulled off her gold slipper.

"I took the nail polish off like you said. Do you need a whole nail?"

"No, if I could just clip them that would be perfect. I wouldn't take a whole nail off. That would be gross."

"Oh good. Here." She held out her foot, and Damien held it in his lap. Glinda shifted a little, smiling widely. Damien pulled a pair of clippers and a small glass vial from his pocket. He held Glinda's foot, and slowly and carefully clipped the nail on her big toe. He secured the nail in the vial. He had moved onto her second toe when Glondo burst make into the room.

"Anybody want a snack?" Glondo asked.

Glondo stopped short when he looked into the room. Roy was standing by the window, as far from the couch as possible. On the couch, Damien and Glinda were sitting close together. Glinda had her legs strewn over Damien's. Damien held her bare foot in one hand and nail clippers in the other. When Glondo flew in, they both looked up guiltily. Glondo scratched his head.

"What are you guys doing?" Glondo asked.

"Um." Damien froze in place. He thought maybe he should detangle himself from Glinda's calves, but there was no point. Glondo had already caught him in the act of nail clipping. He searched frantically for an explanation.

"Damien's clipping my toenails," Glinda said.

"Is that what kids are into these days?" Glondo looked to Roy for affirmation, and Roy shrugged. "In my day, it was all about second base. Never toes." Glondo shook his head and left the room with his snacks. In a hiss Damien let out the breath he had been holding and finished clipping Glinda's right foot.

"Do you need the other foot too?" Glinda asked.

"Might as well. Just to be safe."

Glinda danced her left foot in front of Damien's face, and Damien had to make several snatches before he finally caught it. He finished clipping the nails, then planted a light kiss on Glinda's foot before letting it fall onto his lap.

"Thanks Glinda. You are a life saver."

"Don't mention it. Now you should get going before my dad comes back and makes you stay for a dinner interrogation."

"Right. Oh here." Damien handed her the graphing calculator. "I had to borrow this."

"This was in my room. You transported it?"

"Yeah. Sorry about that. I was desperate."

Glinda placed her tiny fists on her hips. "You hiding anything else of mine in those pockets?"

"Just ten perfect toenails." Damien's eyes zig zagged in quick darts. "And um, this. I'm sorry, I couldn't resist." He held out a red lace bra with full D cups and looked away ashamedly.

Glinda smiled a perfect smile, and Roy noticed Damien turned beet red for the second time.

"That one's my favorite, but you can keep it since you like it so much. See you soon?" she said.

Damien shifted back and forth. "Definitely Glinda. Thanks again."

Glinda walked them to the door and closed it noiselessly behind them. Damien and Roy walked down the street back to the mailbox where they had poofed from.

"I bet you're super glad you came with me," said Damien.

"It certainly was interesting."

"That's a good way of putting it."

"You're kind of a creeper stealing her bra like that. I never knew teenagers were so damn weird. She seemed to like it though."

"Yeah, she did, didn't she. Anyway, how about her dad, huh?"

"He was the biggest faerie I've ever seen."

"Yeah, I've seen him at a few parent - teacher conferences. He never looks much cleaner than he did today."

"You're kidding?"

"Nope. Well, this isn't bad. We got our ingredient."

"You need help making your potions?"

"Sure, why not."

"You want to jump back? Or would you rather walk home?"

"I can jump."

Damien took Roy's forearm again. "You know, you're not always as jerky as you seem."

"Gee, thanks."

There was a small pop, and they were gone.
Chapter 4

Damien and Roy materialized in the living room. Jerry was asleep on the couch, and Bessie and Fangra were painting their fingernails. No one noticed him or Roy. Damien took one look around the room before opening and then slamming the door.

Startled, Fangra threw a bottle of polish at Damien's head. He ducked, and the bottle crashed against the wall. Jerry started awake.

"Ah, you're back. How'd it go?"

"Fine. What about you, old man? Did you contact the blood dealer? You know you're no help to this operation just sitting there on your ass."

"Roy, can you believe how he talks to me? Houdini never talked to his father that way!"

Roy had to admit that Damien was rough around the edges, but the boy was quite like his dad in that respect.

"Did you contact your man?" Roy asked, reiterating the question.

"Yes. We have to meet him in the subway tunnels in an hour."

"Subways tunnels?" asked Roy.

"Yeah, down there in the Underground. It's no big deal. It's not like the trains run anymore."

"I still don't know how comfortable I am meeting him there. It's creepy and there's rats."

"Suck it up and try to act like a vampire," said Jerry. "Don't you eat rats?"

"From a can, yes. I don't just catch them. I am civilized, you know." Roy grabbed a spider off the ground and ate it. "Mm, crunchy."

"How much do you think this could cost?" asked Roy, a wiggling leg poking out of his mouth.

"Upwards of $50,000," said Jerry, "but I'm not going to pay that much. I'm going to have to bargain my ass off. Anyway, what do you care, Roy? You've been on unemployment for 4 years thanks to this Congress."

"Gotta love the Democrats."

Damien stepped between them. "We should get moving."

"You're not coming," said Jerry.

"Wait, what?"

"You're not coming."

"I heard that, but why?"

"Roy and I can handle this. I'm not taking my kid along on a black market deal in a shady part of town."

"And where'd you think I got all my ingredients? Let me come with you guys."

Jerry's feathers ruffled. "No, no you're not coming, son. You're going to stay here and make the potions. You need to get everything ready. We're relying on you. If you're having others help you make these concoctions, you need to be supervising everything they do. Make sure it's all done right. And rehearse your spells. Practice makes perfect. To pull this off, you need to be perfect."

"But I was thinking I could influence your bargaining with the blood broker. There's lots of things I could use on him to get you a better price. Or we could straight-up rob him blind, while we're at it. It's not like any of us are following the law much," Damien pushed.

Jerry seemed calm, but Roy noticed him trembling slightly. He couldn't imagine how much energy it was taking Jerry to keep his head cool. Jerry often hated being second guessed, but his son' insistence and power complicated things.

"Normally that would work," Jerry said softly, "but my connection- the guy with the blood is one of the few creatures who has an immunity to magic."

"Then Roy could probably intimidate him physically. Roy, it would really help if you worked out, you know, built some muscle. You might be strong, but you need to look the part."

"No, this guy's stronger than Roy. We've got no leverage this time."

"Stronger than a vampire and immune to magic? What is he? I know Elves are strong, but not stronger than vampires. They have some resistance to magic effects, but they're hardly immune. Is it a werewolf?" Damien strummed his fingers on his chin. "No, can't be. Is it an ogre?"

"Not an ogre. It's a centaur. Hexor's his name, and he has one hell of a cloudy disposition. We used to run in the same circles when we were younger. He was a nice kid, but then we sort of split ways. I went into witch-doctoring, and he went into organized crime. He's a lieutenant in the Centaur Mafia. He's 17 whacks away from Underboss."

"I might not be able to enchant him, Dad, but I can enchant you. I'll give you something for luck..."

Jerry made a face that was exasperated, constipated, and pressed for time. "We have to go."

Bessie chided her husband. "Honey, let your son do his thing. It might work, and it's good practice, like you said."

Jerry smudged his black and white face paint with a wipe from his hand. "Alright fine. Why are you still in your robe, anyway?"

"Well, I thought I'd go out grazing on the lawn later. No use putting clothes on just to take them off again."

"I don't get it- you're fine being naked in front of the neighbors but you have a problem being naked for five seconds in the White House during the heist."

"It's different, Jerry! I'm in cow form outside. Besides, Bob and Jill are my trusted friends!"

"They're perverts, Bessie!"

Roy opened another bottle of chicken blood.

"I'm going to start charging you for those," Jerry said, making his way to the door.

"I drink when I'm uncomfortable." Roy's eyes became shifty.

"Let's go."

"Don't forget your charm!" Damien said, running over with the charm in hand. "Here you go, dad."

Jerry pulled his son into the hallway and out of sight. "This isn't like you. I don't know why you're being so damn nice, but quit it. I'm still angry with you for contacting the Dark Elves without anybody's permission. If you had asked for it, you know you wouldn't have gotten it. So just quit being nice; you're creeping me out. And give me the damn charm. Thank you. Okay, Roy, stop drinking me out of house and home and LET'S GO!"

Jerry failed to notice the glint in Damien's eye as he and Roy left the house. It was Fangra who brought Damien back from his reverie.

"Why do you have that stupid look on your face?," asked Fangra.

"What look?" The smile grew wider.

"You know, you don't exactly inspire confidence," said Fangra. Then more sarcastically, "I can't wait to put my life in your hands."

Damien shuffled off to the shed in the back of the house where he kept all his "ingredients". He'd start prepping while Jerry was out of the way. Though he could always use help with the potions, there was no way he would trust his mother or the troll with something this important. The list of people he could trust was short. But how many people did he both trust and like? He pulled out his phone and dialed quickly. It only rang once before she answered.

"Hello."

"Hey, it's Damien."

"Just remember you need fingernails too?" Glinda asked.

"Nah, I have all the ingredients. I was wondering if you wanted to help me put some of this stuff together."

"What for? You know, you never really told me," Glinda said, her voice thick with suspicion.

"Um ..." Involving more people was a bad idea, but if Jerry found out, Damien could argue that Glinda was already involved, by giving her nails. Except she didn't know that she was involved. And it's not like she was coming along on the heist either. They were at capacity on that front.

"Damien?"

"Right. I'm trying to make a little extra money on the black market with enchantments and potions. You know, harmless stuff you can't buy now on the street. Beautifying potions, protection elixirs, the works."

"Do your parents know about this? I'm only asking because you're mixing potions at home. I wouldn't want to be involved in anything that'll get you in trouble."

"My dad'll do anything for a buck. He's bankrolling this whole thing. He also hates the Bureau of White Magic and does what he can to snub his nose at them."

"Isn't he a doctor?"

"He hates his job. Especially his patients."

"Okay. And I am the second best in our school in magical mixology. You being the best, of course." He could almost hear her grinning on the phone. "So I guess I'll help."

He found himself sweating and his hands becoming clammy. "Great. You free now?"

"I guess so."

"Cool. See you soon then."

"See ya."

Damien looked around the shed again. He pulled out all the ingredients he would need and separated them by potion. He organized the cauldrons, beakers, and pots before running back to the house. He checked to see that his mother and Fangra were still preoccupied; they were watching their stories now. Hopefully they would leave him alone when Glinda came.

Ding dong gong.

Damn. Damien wasn't expecting her to get here so quickly. She must have hummingbird wings. Bessie and Fangra looked up expectantly from the T.V.

"I'll get it," said Damien. He opened the door, and there was Glinda, hovering slightly above the front step, onto which she landed gingerly.

"Long time no see," she said.

"Come in. Let's try to make it to the shed before ..."

"Damien, who's at the door?" Bessie asked.

He sighed and led Glinda to the living room.

"This is my friend Glinda. She was the one who gave us the toenails."

"How nice to meet..."

"Yeah yeah yeah." Damien led Glinda to the back door without further ado. Drawing out the introduction was embarrassing. "Wait here. I have to run upstairs and get gloves for you, and then we'll get to work."

Damien dashed up the stairs, taking them two at a time. The gloves were somewhere in the bottom of his closet. He used a locating spell, and although the mess spilled out onto the floor of his already messy bedroom, Damien had the gloves within seconds. He rushed back downstairs, but he stopped short when he got to the back door. His mother was outside talking to Glinda. Two minutes! It took him two minutes to go upstairs and get the extra pair of gloves for Glinda so she didn't accidentally scald herself, and yet there was his mother and his crush having a conversation about Oberon-knows-what.

He stepped outside with a sigh, trying to concoct some way to get rid of her. Then he saw Fangra sipping lemonade on the patio. The patio was on the way to the shed. This was getting better and better.

"What happened to your show? I thought you were watching a soap opera," he asked.

"It's over. Now I'm working on relaxing," Fangra replied.

"I'll relax you," Damien muttered. He walked over to his mother and Glinda. "Hey Mom! Come on, Glinda and I have some work to do. I'm sorry to interrupt."

"Fangra and I want to help. You heard your father- all hands on deck."

It wasn't about the potions for him- it was about spending time with _her_. The were-cow was a bit dense not to pick up on that, he thought. Damien took a deep breath, bit his lip, and managed to squeak out a pathetic "What?" to Bessie.

"You heard me. Fangra and I want to help make the potions. Glinda thinks it's a great idea; we ran it by her. We told her about the heist. Isn't that exciting?" We also discussed how pretty she is and how nice you two would look together." Bessie winked at her son. They'd said a lot in two minutes.

Damien looked to Glinda. She gave him a sheepish shrug. A dark smile curled on Damien's lips. Oh, they were going to help alright. They were going to help but good.

"Alright then, everybody to the shed. Let's get this show on the road."

Damien lead the motley crew to his work shed. The shed was larger on the inside than it appeared on the outside. Damien had learned the enchantment at an early age, or else he would never have been able to build up such a large store of materials and tools right under his parents' noses. The walls seemed to stretch ten feet high, and from the floor to the ceiling they were covered with jars and glasses containing everything from pickled frogs to poison mushrooms to the shaved horn of a unicorn.

Damien hid the last item incredibly well. It was illegal to have any piece of a unicorn horn; the magic it contained was too powerful. Unfortunately, none of its effects were needed for the heist, so they couldn't use it. It was his prized possession, but he knew Bessie would have a cow if she found out about it. He saw her gaping at the sheer volume of ingredients arranged on the shelves around the room. However, she should have suspected long ago. Damien simply possessed too many Rolexes and gold chains to be able to afford them on his meager allowance.

"Go ahead, say it," said Damien to his mother. "I can see you have questions."

"Where did you get all this?" asked Bessie.

"Oh, you know, here and there."

"We need to have a serious talk about this after the heist. Did I just say that sentence? Scratch that. You have amnesty, but if we're able to pull this off, you, and the rest of us are going to clean up our act."

Damien shook his head at Glinda. That was never going to happen, and they all knew it.

"Right, so we should get to work," Damien said. "Mom and Fangra, you'll work over there at that table. Glinda, you're over here with me." Damien smiled at Glinda as he slid closer to her. "Let's see how powerful those tiny toenails of yours really are." He winked awkwardly.

"Excuse me." It was Fangra this time. She poked Damien hard with a scraggly troll finger.

"What?" Damien snapped back.

"You mean that table all the way down there?" Fangra pointed to the farthest corner of the shed, to a table wedged between two refrigerators.

Damien replied, "Yes, that one. You ladies think you can manage from here?" He shooed them off to the distant table so he could be relatively alone with Glinda.

Bessie and Fangra looked at each other. They hadn't the first clue of where to begin. Damien sighed. They didn't exactly know magic, and it wasn't their fault. No matter. In order to build the right potion the right way, all they needed to know is how to cook. Cooking and potion-making were alarmingly similar.

Changing his tone as it was off-putting, he said, "I'll get you ladies the recipes."

Damien pulled out his books and quickly flipped through to see which recipes they needed. He had handwritten all of his recipe books, learning over the years how to perfect each one until they were all his own unique proprietary blend. He knew most of them by heart now.

He found the recipes he needed. Now which to give to his mother and Fangra? He hated the idea of relying on novices for an operation so delicate as the heist, but the invisibility draught was the easiest to concoct. So he gave them that. He'd have to trust them.

Fangra's beautifying potion was going to take all day; it was so complicated that, as much as he was a once-in-a-generation magic genius, he was still iffy about whether he could pull it of. He and Glinda would work on that one together.

"Here." Damien handed them the book of potions. He marked off all the pages they would need.

"Start with the invisibility draught. It's super easy, but it takes a little time, so be patient. If you finish that before I'm done with Fangra's, you can start Roy's potion. Remember, the potion for Roy is to make him ignore-able."

"He's already ignore-able," Bessie laughed. Fangra snorted in agreement.

Damien took out all the ingredients they required and laid them out on their table. He pulled out a cauldron; he showed them how the table had a stove burner built into the middle. He attached the cauldron, laid out the measuring cups, and then he led Glinda back to the front table.

Fangra picked up the book and glanced over the instructions squinting the whole time.

To Bessie, "This is chicken scratch. I can't make out any of it."

Bessie nodded so fervently in agreement that her bathrobe loosened. Fangra gagged. "I blame his father. When I tried to teach him good penmanship, Jerry complained his handwriting would look too girly."

"Then he should be here to decipher this scribble."

"Let me look." Bessie took the book from Fangra. "I can read this, I think." She squinted. "Well, most of it. The first thing we have to do is heat the cauldron. But I don't know if it's to 150 degrees or 450. 150 is too low, it has to be 450."

"Easy enough."

Fangra and Bessie looked down at the stove. There was nothing on the table that told them how to light it.

"Maybe under the table," said Fangra. They looked under the table. Then they looked on the sides, where the found a small nozzle linking to the stove. Bessie cranked it up, but nothing happened.

"Is it on all the way?" Fangra asked.

Bessie jiggled the nozzle. "I can't get this thing to work." She shouted, "Damien, could we get a little help here please?"

Damien locked his jaw and dragged his feet over to Fangra and Bessie's table.

"How can you have a question?" Damien insisted. "You haven't even started yet."

"We can't turn on the stove."

"Did you turn the nozzle on?"

"Yes."

"Did you light the stove?"

"No, I told you it won't turn on."

"You have to light it yourself. It's not automatic." Damien took one look at their blank faces before picking up a box of matches off a shelf. Then he held the match towards the gas, and a great ball of fire exploded in front of him. He cut the gas to the flame and jumped back. He patted out the sparks that were burning holes into his shirt, then checked that he hadn't lost his eyebrows or hair.

He turned the gas on low and then lit the stove. Once it was lit, he turned up the gas and set the cauldron over the warming fire.

"Ok. It's lit. Let it heat for ten minutes before you start cooking your potion."

Bessie and Fangra nodded obediently.

"All you have to do is follow the directions in the correct order and stir. If you make a mistake, you'll have to start from scratch. You can't pick up where you left off. It would throw the whole potion off. We good?"

They nodded again.

Damien got a quick start on the beautifying draught. It had to simmer for 30 minutes, so if he could pull it together quickly, he would have some free time with Glinda, since it's obvious that she was in a not-serious relationship with that other guy. He hurried to light the cauldron and threw in the first couple of ingredients.

He leaned in close to her, so close he could see every eyelash on her pretty green eyes. She caught him staring at her and smiled coyly. She opened her mouth to speak. Sweet nothings, Damien hoped. "Do you have an apron?" she asked.

Damien leaned back. That was nowhere near what he was expecting her to say.

"An apron?" he asked.

"I just bought this dress, and I don't want it covered in all this gross stuff, you know. Dog brains and sequins don't mix."

Damien cleared his throat and stepped back. She was completely sincere. She wasn't teasing him or anything. She wanted an apron. He rummaged around through the shed, but all he could find were filthy sacks and worn smocks. They were way too grungy to give to Glinda.

"Hey Mom!" he called.

"We're fine Damien," Bessie called back. "Everything's in order, son." She and her cohort exchanged confused looks.

"Can I borrow an apron from the kitchen?"

"Definitely not. I don't want my good aprons smeared with lizard brains and frog guts. I don't think so."

"It's for Glinda. She doesn't want to get her dress dirty."

"Oh. In that case alright. Help yourself sweetie."

"Come on," Damien said, leading Glinda out of the shed. As they reached the door, Bessie saw Glinda slip her hand into Damien's. Fangra clicked her tongue. It was her gossip retention reflex.

"What?" asked Bessie.

"That boy is just asking for a heap of trouble."

"Trust me, I've seen him do much worse than her. A nice girl might be just what he needs."

"I meant he's gonna be in trouble with me. I don't care about his love life, nothing personal mind you, but I care about this crazy heist. If he gets my ass into trouble because he's going ga-ga for some fairy cheerleader then he has another thing coming."

"If it's your hide your worried about, I suggest we get started." Bessie tightened the formerly loose knot on her bathrobe to show she meant business.

"Well, what's the recipe say? You already know I can't make it out."

Bessie squinted at the book. Even to a mother's eyes, Damien's handwriting was illegible. The words were so tiny that it seemed that all the letters ran together. Bessie was able to make out the ingredients, mostly because Damien had already laid them out on the table. It was the measurements that Bessie struggled with.

"I think it says to add 1/4 of a cup of bat blood."

"You think?" Fangra asked.

Bessie squinted again. "That's what it says. 1/4 of a cup," she said, reassuring herself more than Fangra. "Why don't you add it to the pot?"

Fangra uncorked the bottle of bat's blood.

"Urgghh! Do you smell that? Think that maybe it's gone bad?"

" I dunno. Just dump it in while I try to figure out the next hieroglyph."

Fangra sloshed the liquid into a measuring cup and poured it into the pot. They continued in this way through the next couple of ingredients - Bessie pretending she could read the recipe, Fangra finding every ingredient revolting. She was in the middle of measuring out newt's pimple when she slammed the bottle down.

"How long does it take to get a damn apron!"

"Would you calm down?" said Bessie.

"We're doing all this work without the benefit of being able to ask him questions because he's not here."

"Having fun ladies?" Damien and Glinda were standing in the doorway, Glinda in an apron that said "Kiss the Cook."

Fangra glowered at them. "How long does it take to get an apron?"

"Glinda couldn't find one that she liked." He paused for a bit. "We had to search."

"And where did you dig up that one?" asked Bessie.

"The bottom of the drawer," said Damien.

"I don't remember it."

"So how's the potion coming along?" Damien asked. "Having trouble?"

"We're fine."

"No questions? Because the potions will only work if everything's perfect. Every ingredient has an exact dosing amount and needs to be put in at exactly the right time."

Bessie and Fangra glanced at one another. The potion was already bubbling away. Fangra cocked an eyebrow of insecurity, but Bessie nodded in reassurance.

"We're fine," Bessie repeated. "We got this. We're about halfway through now."

"Alright. Come on Glinda, let's keep it going. It'll take a lot of work to make sure Fangra doesn't look like a hag at this event." He left and Glinda followed. They lost no time working on the beautifying draught. They made good progress over the course of a few hours.

Fangra and Bessie set aside their strengthening potion to cool, and Damien and Glinda finished up the beauty potion around the same time because theirs had to set for longer. It was a pale gold with shimmer of pink and lavender.

Suddenly there was a knock on the shed. Everyone jumped. It took them out of their zone.

"Relax, it's probably just Dad and Roy," said Damien, though secretly he worried whether the Bureau of White Magic, or BWM finally got smart about his activities. He opened the door a crack, and Glondo came bursting in, toppling over him.

"Dad!" said Glinda, straightening out her apron and pulling it up over her cleavage. "What are you doing here?"

Glondo quickly surveyed the shed, taking everything in at a glance.

"Oh, sorry son," said Glondo, picking Damien up off the floor. He was stronger than he looked. "I'm just checking up on you Glinda. It's what fathers do. We're curious by nature, so I'm wondering ... what's going on here?"

Nobody moved. They stared at Glondo, trying to come up with a plausible lie to tell him, but flubbing it. Glondo studied them all, and lastly his eyes fell on Damien, who gave him a sheepish smile.

"School project my butt," Glondo said. "You're going after the vampire, aren't you?"

"How did you ..." Damien started to ask, but one smack from Bessie stopped the words in his mouth. That smack meant to convey the advice: don't confirm or deny anything!

"Please, don't be alarmed," said Glondo. "I know about the vampire the President has for the top-secret Ball, and truth be told I've been watching you. But not like that; I'm not a spy or a peeping tom or anything. It's just a father likes to know what sort of crowd his daughter gets on with."

"So, what kind of crowd are we?" asked Damien.

"You're not idiots, which I expected you to be. Truth be told I think the heist idea is gold. Stealing the President's vampire in order to follow it to its highly lucrative human blood supply. But I think you can use a little help."

"Meaning you?" asked Bessie.

"Yes. I need to hear the plan, of course, but what you don't seem to understand is that I am a Faerie Knight from the realm of Oberon, and as such have access to magic which you cannot comprehend. Damien here has some helpful tools up his sleeve, but he's a simple conjurer. My magic is more than just that. I want in. I have my own reasons. Call it political."

Silence.

"Look," Glondo said, looking around again. "I wouldn't be in it for the money. You can keep all the profits you make from the human blood. It's yours. I'll give, but I won't take. You can still split the money the same as before I got here. Whattaya say?"

"Daddy," said Glinda. "You can't barge in here and demand to be part of their illegal plans. It's rude."

He patted her head in a nurturing but patronizing way. "They need us, pixie. They would never succeed in this endeavor without magic like ours." He turned to Damien who appeared to be the "brains" of the operation if there were any. "No offense but as good as you may be, you're all amateurs. I've been around a few thousand years; I've pulled stuff like this off. Here, would you like a sample of my work?"

He walked over to the table and filled an empty cauldron with water. Everyone gathered around him. He waited until the water was completely smooth before closing his eyes and sticking a meaty finger into the it. Immediately, the water began to whirl, shooting out bursts of yellow and green. As the water settled, Roy and Jerry appeared in the water. They were talking to a centaur.

"Holy crap," said Fangra. "Closed circuit television."

"You could use an outside man. Someone who can keep an eye on you and make sure things run smoothly from a distance," said Glondo.

"Sir, don't take this the wrong way, but what's in it for you?" asked Damien.

Glondo sized Damien up, but as he did so a small smile crept onto his face. "All in good time," Glondo said. "Also, it doesn't really matter, does it? Free help is free help. Now, shall we go somewhere more comfortable?"

"We have to finish the potions," said Glinda.

Glondo pulled out a very ornate wand, waved it three times, and with a poof, they all landed in the living room of the house. Two tables with built-in stoves had appeared in the back of the room, each with the ingredients needed for the remaining two recipes.

"Well," said Glondo. "Get to work."

Chapter 5

Roy and Jerry began walking away from Jerry's house to meet the centaur at a medium pace. Roy was wearing his usual short-sleeved blue button down shirt untucked, with shoddy jeans and white trainers. His hair was both wavy and spiky with gel. His pale blue eyes, pale face and off-color blue shirt and jeans made Roy look positively emo. Jerry was just glad he wasn't sporting the full hipster look. At least he wasn't wearing nonsensically framed glasses or beard or ironic shirt. Jerry would have left him at the house if he had instead of being seen in public together. Vampires' eyesight is perfect. Nothing annoyed Jerry more than seeing them wear glasses as a fashion statement. Roy turned to Jerry after a block or so.

"Why are we walking so slow?" Roy asked. "I can run in super-speed. You can hop on my back, and we'll get there in no time. Faster than this, anyway."

"That might not be such a good idea. I was thinking, we should tell people you're a Worker Elf. This is a rough neighborhood we're headed to, and I don't want people knowing you're a vampire. There's not much magic in the neighborhood, not a lot of enchantments, but they do have a lot of guns and knives. If they see your speed or other abilities, they might think you're a cop, or worse, the Feds."

"Okay, but I thought we were in a hurry."

Jerry footed a rock on the ground that kicked up some dust. "Yes and no. Mostly I wanted to get away from Fangra. All day at the office is bad enough, but this feels like an unwanted social visit, plus a robbery since she wants a cut of the action. And no matter how look at her, she's so ... big and annoying."

"The size and temperament comes with being a troll. It's an identifying feature."

"Like your long canine teeth, Mister Vampire?"

He covered his mouth in shame. "They get long! I just need to be in the mood first. By the way, what the hell is that smell?"

"Yeah, good point. It smells like...oh no."

"It smells like rotting fish. What's making that stench?"

"That little jerk!" Jerry clenched his fists and stamped his feet in rage. "It's the charm he gave me; it smells like rotting fish. He's getting grounded after the heist!"

"Throw out the charm then, Jerry. Jeez that stinks."

"It wouldn't do any good. The smell is going to stay with us. A charm has a continuous effect even if it isn't with you. Oy!"

Roy shook his head and blinked a few times. "Okay, well calm down now Jerry. It's just an innocent practical joke. It's no big deal. So, you smell a good deal like a rotting fish head, so what?"

"I'll tell you so what, doofus! Sorry, Roy, it slipped. I didn't mean it. It's this stupid charm disaster. The so what is that rotting fish is a well-known centaur aphrodisiac. This is already a difficult enough problem to navigate without having to worry about getting the friggin centaur hot and bothered."

Roy laughed. "Maybe it'll help you get a better price."

"Or maybe not, Roy! He might try to put the moves on me."

"No, n-no... I don't think that would happen," Roy commented, observing Jerry's distended bare gut and ceremonial head lice. "But, um, was what you said about centaurs being stronger than daywalkers true?" He looked at himself in the reflection of an old car and flexed.

Jerry lumbered gracefully onward. "I'm not a hundred percent sure on that, but either way, it'd be a close fight. It probably wouldn't be pleasant for either of you. Don't pick a fight."

"I was just thinking if he tried to kiss me or something, whether or not I could fight him off. I'm very, very good looking." Roy was dead serious about that. His reflection said so.

Jerry laughed and his belly hopped. "That thought actually makes me feel a little bit better. I mean you're right, dude. We both smell like rotting fish. It's only natural for him to go after you."

They walked under an overpass where they saw a group of trolls warming themselves by a fire. The trolls paid the two journeymen no mind. They had old toy trains and rocking horses and wooden puppets in heaps to throw into the fire-can.

Trolls have excellent hearing, so Roy waited until they were well passed them to whisper to Jerry, "Why are they so cold? It's springtime!"

"They're cold blooded. Trolls tend to hide how cold they get in front of others. It's considered a weakness. Fangra always wears that stupid pink sweater, doesn't she? It's not a fashion statement. These particular street rats don't care what outsiders think of them, so they'll shudder and shiver and warm themselves in public."

"I'd hate to think of their heating bills."

"Especially since Con Ed no longer exists, and they have to heat their homes with dragon-breath. That's a pretty penny more expensive, let me tell you. My first home was heated with dragon breath. Cost a fortune."

They turned a corner and the neighborhood got worse. Jerry looked warily at his friend. "We're on some mean streets, Roy." There were goblin and orc gangs openly roving the streets, riding motorcycles and sharpening weapons like maces and machetes; some were brandishing AK-47s and yipping nonsensical gibberish in high pitch.

"I thought goblins and orcs hated each other," said Roy.

"Yes, but they're just having some down time in between battles. I used to work on an ambulance in this neighborhood as an Emergency Shaman. Man, that was long, hard work for bad pay. These hoodlums don't possess much skill in magic, but they do specialize in violence."

They walked towards an old, rickety brown sign that said "Metro Station". It was above a set of old stairs full of mold. The mold was being eaten slowly by wriggling purple slime. "What is this place?" asked Roy, wrinkling his nose.

"When the humans were around, this is one way they would travel. They rode on a long metal serpent called a 'train'. It was the forum for many a philosophical debate. Great kings of men frequented it. Now, it's full of lowlifes." As they walked further into the blackness, they heard voices of Rat-men and other beasts. As soon as he mouthed the word "lowlifes," Jerry bumped into what he thought was a wall.

"Hello Jerry, old friend. Your terms of endearment aren't lost on your pal Hexor. Follow me."

Jerry looked at Roy, who in turn, did not see him. "Hex, um, how can we follow you if we can't see you?"

A loud inhalation through the nostrils could be heard in the darkness as presumably Hexor sniffed the fishy air. "You can hold my hand and your friend can hold yours."

"Oh...okay, Hex."

He led them slowly in the dark, clip-clopping at a steady, but not fast, pace. Some squeaks, some mewing, some barking could be heard somewhere about, but it could have been either near or far, with the way sounds echoed in the railways.

"Ok, here we are, folks, last stop, my office." Hexor had an unexpectedly Southern drawl which gave him the most hospitable sound. Whether he possessed this quality of hospitality or not remained to be seen.

Hexor's "office" was an old dispatching unit, which had running electricity. It looked just like a typical office, with desks, drawers, file folders strewn about and a full-desk item that looked a bit like a switchboard. It was something of a cramped space and Hexor, being half horse, couldn't sit down. "Please, sit, make yourselves comfortable," the humble centaur said.

Roy went to sit and Jerry interrupted, "No, I think we'll stand. We weren't planning on staying long, just long enough to make a deal."

"Aintcha gonna have some coffee, or mead? I got plenny in this pantry down yonder." He motioned around the corner to, presumably, a pantry.

Roy took point this time. "No, thank you. We have prior engagements for this afternoon so we're going to unfortunately need to be in and out quickly." Jerry rolled his eyes and slapped his left temple at Roy's wording.

Jerry folded his hands like a businessman. "Ok, Hex, let's get down to brass tacks."

"Sorry, did you say brass knuckles? Why whatever do you mean, old chum?"

"Brass tacks." Jerry shifted uneasily. "I want ten pints of unexpired human blood. How much is that gonna run me?"

"First off, I can't guarantee the quality of the blood, I need to caveat that. No blood runner in these here United States of America can. Ain't no way of telling if it's fresh or if it ain't, until it's opened proper. It's refrigerated, that's all I can guarantee. Secondly, ten pints is a whole hell of a lot for one buyer. What you want this blood for?"

"Hex, that's my business. You know how this all works, don't ask, don't tell. All that talks is money here. That being said, how much are we talking?"

"Alright, alright young blood. Fifty grand of these here American dollars."

"No way."

"Non-negotiable."

"How can it be non-negotiable? Everything is negotiable."

Hexor took on a philosophical tone, reflective. "Well, we've known each other a long time, Jerry--"

"Yeah, and back then you didn't sound like you were selling fried chicken." Jerry smiled.

"I ain't sellin' fried chicken now neither. I'm sellin' a highly illegal, highly controlled substance, fraught with risk upon my person. Fifty grand is the going rate, wholesale. I mean we go way back. It's why I'm givin' you a discount."

"How much does it go for retail?"

"Six thousand, five hundred per pint. For ten pints, sixty five grand, Archimedes."

"That's robbery!"

"From my perspective, the price I'm giving you is reverse robbery."

"Fifteen thousand, max."

"Fifty thousand, at minimum. Feel free to leave a tip."

"Ok, alright, I'll play along. Twenty five thousand."

"Fifty."

"You're not even budging! That's not how negotiations work." Jerry paced a bit, not knowing how else to vent his frustration.

"Now I dun told ya, that there's my bet offer, straight and to the point. I'm losing money here. I'm barely breaking even with that price."

"Thirty."

"No. And don't think that comin' in here stinkin' to blazes of rotting fish helps you in negotiations. In my dealings I'm strictly business."

"Okay, let me consult with my business partner here, Hex." Jerry and Roy discussed briefly, with Jerry commandeering the conversation. "Alright Hex, listen, you're selling at five thousand a pop, I'm willing to spend fifteen grand, I'll take three pints. It should do."

"Now hold on just a minute. You get the discount for all ten. You don't get ten, you don't get the discount. That's just how discounts work, Jerry. Ain't you some fancy shaman or something anyway? What's that, like two weeks pay?"

"No, not really Hexor. I can't afford that. Times are tough for everyone. You've got to play ball with me here." He rolled his eyes at his own wording.

The centaur stood as tall as he could stand, and in the motion of Hexor stretching himself, Jerry and Roy had a rather unfortunate view of his horse half. Jerry asked "Why ain't you wearing pants, Hex? That's still faux pas in this day and age."

Hex went over to Roy and began to massage his shoulders. First gently, then a bit deeper, always sniffing the fishy air. "We might be able to have an understanding I suppose. I mean I'm not an ogre. I won't go to the poor house at that rate. My children will still eat- fried chicken of course," he winked sticking his tongue out at Jerry. "I can take a hit I guess." He continued to rub, eyes in a trance looking at the daywalker.

Jerry scrambled his brains trying to think on his feet. Roy's normally pale face reddened as he had an unidentified look upon it. Jerry thought Roy might run, or throw down, or cry. It was that kind of a face. Jerry ultimately said, "I know what you mean, Hex, and yes, it's a deal. I know how you centaurs work. You're tough negotiators."

Roy's face changed as he trained his eyes on Jerry, trembling with sweat. Jerry said, "Yes Hex, you want to bargain with us, with a riddle! I know your kind is even more fond of riddles than griffins, or sphinxes. I accept the challenge. Ask me."

"Hm." The centaur kept his large catcher's mitts on Roy's abnormally tense back. "Usually there's a penalty for answering incorrectly, but I'll waive that condition. Let's have a scavenger hunt. There's a key out there somewhere. Answering the riddle correctly means finding the key. If you find the key in the location I tell you, bring it back to me and I'll test it by making sure it opens the lock it's meant to open. If it does, it means you got the right one, and not just any key."

"Then the blood is free?"

"Now what do I get out of that, Mister Smart Intelligent Shaman person? Why don't you just take my house and romance my wife while you're at it? I ain't that stupid. And I ain't usually this generous but I dunno what's come over me. I'm in a sporting mood." He released his grip of Roy, slowly. "If you find it and I can verify it, then you can have your latest offer. Three for five thousand each. $15,000 total. If not, then I guess we don't have a deal." He winked at Roy. Roy shivered nearly imperceptibly.

"Okay, that's fine with me Hexor," said Jerry. "I know how it works, and I appreciate your willingness to deal. What's the riddle?"

"To reach the key you must pass stations three; the first is first, then past a long line of kings you traverse, through to the end of the line, which is cursed."

"Is it really cursed?"

"No, that was me using creative license. I like it when my riddles rhyme. Now g'on. Git. Be back within three hours."

***

Back at the Veejay residence, Bessie, still in her white robe, brought out munchies for everyone, including chips and dip, olives, wine and cheese. Fangra was mixing potions together according to Damien's written recipes, periodically squinting her eyes through her vintage cat eye glasses. Damien and Glinda were working on their potions together, often returning each other's looks with smiles.

After bringing out the munchies, Bessie sat next to the newest guest at the residence. Glondo smiled at her as he took heaping scoopfuls of food and shoveled them into his mouth.

"Mmmm," he said in his gruff, throaty voice, looking upwards. "You know, I haven't had cheese in years. This is such a delicacy," he spoke, mouth full, as he spread some more of it onto a cracker.

"Oh?" Bessie inquired, blushing. "I made it myself."

As he ingested the cracker he just dressed, he explained, "Cows ain't really been around in big numbers since the humans, not really, anyway. So they're very endangered. Mmm." He looked up to the ceiling again. "But you know what I really miss? Milk, I used to love it. So few cow farmers these days, one glass of milk is a thousand dollars."

Bessie took out a fan and began to fan herself. "I'll go over there and make some for you," she said, arising impatiently. The guest looked confused. Damien looked like he'd eaten a sour lemon, and Fangra muttered something under her breath as she worked. Glinda didn't react. She was needling some thread, weaving a magic patchwork carefully.

The door to the house opened slowly and Roy and Jerry dejectedly walked through it. "We weren't able to get the blood." Seeing his son, Jerry shouted, "Why did you give me that charm? You made us stink like centaur-love juice."

Roy held him back easily. Attempting to change the subject, Roy said, "That was a very difficult riddle. Hard to solve. I don't know if we can."

Damien asked, "Well, what's the riddle?" Upon being told, Damien flew into a great passion. "That's the easiest 'riddle' I've ever heard! You begin at the First Avenue metro station. You walk past King's Street and then head to where the trains all congregate at the end point of the train line."

"Yeah, we know, but at each of those three places there were three other clues. It turned into a tremendous scavenger hunt at the end, each clue being more difficult and cryptic than the one before it. It was leading us into a maze of different locations. No way we could have gotten to them within three hours."

Jerry shut the door. "Hi. Who the hell are you?" he asked of the stranger, who'd stopped stuffing himself by that point. As a matter of fact, he was mid-chew when questioned.

"Oh that's my dad," Glinda said, turning her green eyes to Jerry.

"Ah," Jerry said, shielding his own eyes from some of the natural fairy shimmer of the both of them. "And you're the faerie that goes to school with my son..." he snapped his fingers. "...Glinda."

"Yes. His name is Glondo."

Glondo chewed quickly and swallowed the bolus of food. Reaching out his short, stubby hand he clarified, "Well, you can call me Glondo, technically it's Sir Glondo, because I'm a Faerie Knight, but what the hell."

"A Fairy? Knight? Somehow I'd figure you to look different."

"Well, this isn't my true form, you know. We change our appearance when we're not in the Forest."

"Or in Oberon's Realm," Damien said distractedly, eyes still intent on what he was doing.

The Faerie twirled around faster than probable given his girth. "How do you know about Oberon's Realm? Never mention Oberon here. Trust me, it's not safe."

Damien shrugged his shoulders. "Okay."

Jerry laughed somewhat hysterically. Like a mental patient. "You know, I actually just now realized that you being here, must mean that..." he tittered, "you know exactly what we're up to. Great!" He turned to his son and his wife. "Great. Soon we'll have the entire neighborhood in on this heist and then you know what? Maybe the police and the BWM will find out too! Everybody's gonna find out! Why, let me just Twitter it right now!" He started pulling out his cell.

Roy slapped him hard, but affectionately. "Get a hold of yourself, Jerry!"

Glondo smiled amusedly to Damien. "Hey Damien, I like your dad. He's a real whack job."

Bessie whined at her husband. "Honey, he came over wondering what was up with his daughter and our boy. He wanted to clear up a few things about their relationship."

Glondo interjected, "Yeah, in my day, we did a lot of crazy things when we went out, but cutting each other's nails ain't one of em. Now, back to the heist. I don't have to explain that Fairies are among the most magical of creatures, and being a knight, that makes me even more so. And I'm smart. I put together what was up, and I think it's genius. I'm in."

"No, you're not," Jerry commanded. "There's too many people in our crew as it is."

"Well why not?" said Glondo, just a little forcefully. Jerry ignored his tone.

"Because we have too many people as it is, and there won't be enough profit to go around. If our crew gets too big, there'll come a point, which is fast approaching, where we'd be losing money." Jerry folded his arms, secure in the logic of his reasoning.

"That's the best part! I ain't in it for the money!" Glondo said, shaking his head. "I don't need the money. I make good money myself on the stock market. I'm one of three people that makes it go up and down."

"Then what would you want out of all this?"

"That's my business. Look, you can use my help. Faerie magic is among the most powerful magic there is out there. Believe me, you can use a Faerie Knight on this expedition, and you can have the vampiress and all the profit she offers. She's all yours."

Jerry looked around at his audience. "I'm not sure I can trust this. Nobody does anything for no reason, without wanting something in return."

"Okay, Jerry, listen, let me break it down for you. I dislike President Zylex. I have my own reasons for it but suffice it to say that it's personal. Anything I can do to drive a spiked stick through his plans, I'll do it. Not like you have any choice in the matter though. I've made up my mind. If my little girl's involved, I'm involved. You can use all the padding you can get, considering the security you're up against." He thumped his chest like a lowland gorilla.

"He's right, dad," Damien said, taking a break, his head on Glinda's shoulder.

Glondo became animated, like an angry winged gnome. "Not that I have to, but here, let me prove my worth to you a little bit. You want the blood from the centaur, so you have something to appease the starving vampire that Zylex has held up. And you just failed in getting it. So you're coming back home, and shrugging your shoulders saying 'Oh well.' This is a bad thing, guys. You still need to solution this problem. No blood, no heist. Because unless you can appease the vamp, she's gonna kill anybody nearby."

"He's right dad."

"Shut up Damien. Okay, so what's your proposed solution to the problem at hand?" Jerry re-folded his arms.

Glondo walked over to Damien. "Listen kid, get a cooking pot and fill it with water and bring it over to me. You got a conjurer stone?"

Damien regarded his elder with a slight squint and short laugh. "Those are really cheap; everyone's got conjurer stones."

"Okay, then bring it to me with the pot of water. I'll show you something."

Damien obediently arose to go fetch the pot of water and the conjurer stone. As he was doing so, Glondo explained to Roy, Bessie, Fangra, and especially Jerry, "Faerie magic can help you manipulate and affect outcomes from a distance. Now what I'm about to do is highly illegal, but trust me, I know what I'm doing."

Damien brought the pot of water and the stone over to Glondo. "Okay, Damien, set it down on this table here. Drop the stone into the pot."

Glondo reached into a small fanny-pack type of bag and took out a small speck of faerie dust, which to all who saw it, looked quite a bit like glitter. "Faerie dust is very rare and very powerful." He tossed it into the pot with the conjurer stone and waved his hand over the water. An image of the centaur appeared, presumably showing him at the present time.

Hexor was engaged in making phone calls, "putting out feelers", to quote him, to ascertain who wants human blood. From his replies and body language, it appeared he'd found several buyers at the price he asked for. "This isn't good," said Glondo. "He's gonna move the merchandise soon. We need to get that blood before he can sell it, and we need to pack it in Damien's satchel with ice so it stays fresh. This is critical, I hope you understand that."

"Well what can we do?" Jerry clucked. "Hexor's immune to magic, and he's physically strong. Unless you can subdue him physically yourself, I don't think any of us have a choice in the matter here."

"Well actually, I am physically stronger than a centaur, but I ain't gettin' myself thrown in jail by jumping somebody at my age. You know who else is as strong as Hexor?"

"Who?"

"Werewolves. And you know where we can find some werewolves?"

"Where?"

"At the local high school. There's a gang of them, and right now, they wanna be gangsters. I can influence them to go jump Hexor once we find out where he is."

"You said it's illegal. Is there any chance we might get caught?"

"Look, I told you to trust me. We're fine. Faerie magic always works. Oh crap!" Glondo stared into the pot of water frantically. "Quick Damien, go get me another pot of water with a conjurer stone, and hurry!"

Observing the frantic nature of Glondo's body language and tone, Jerry reciprocated. "What's wrong, fairy knight?" He looked into the pot and floating over the image of Hexor (now smoking a pipe) were the words "BWM Warning: This transmission is being monitored by federal agents as part of the Patriot Act. Desist immediately or face full prosecution."

"This is very bad," said Glondo, reaching into his pouch. When Damien brought back the pot of water and stone, Glondo dexterously and swiftly threw a pinch of fairy dust into the new pot, then dipped his hand into the old as if he was picking something up from the surface and dropped it into the new. He then waved his hand over the new pot in a circular motion. The new pot proceeded to show several rabbits hopping in the forest and the BWM warning above. The Bureau was now monitoring bunnies. The pot of water showing the centaur had no BWM warning now. Glondo added a few more sprinkles there. "Okay, crisis averted, everybody. We're good now. It's a secure line. I always forget about the damn Patriot Act."

In the water, Glondo "split" the screen, so to speak, so that on the right hemisphere was Hexor, enjoying his pipe. On the left side was a group of 5 or 6 creatures in a circle, loitering. One was playing with a yo-yo, another was smoking a cigarette, and the others were solely occupied in playing with their cell phones.

"Who are they?" Jerry asked, interest piqued.

"They are the werewolves. They're gonna jump Hexor and steal his blood. Now, shh, I'm gonna talk to them." Glondo raised his hand slowly, palm up, and the volume of the group's voices became louder. "So what do you guys wanna do? Wanna go see a movie? Maybe throw over some troll's food carts? Graffiti the Human Museum?"

Glondo spoke directly to them. "I know, how about let's jump a centaur. I know one that's not far away. We could pummel him but good!"

"Hey I know!" said one of the werewolves who was playing on his cell phone. "We're a gang, right? Let's jump someone! We haven't done that it ages."

"Or ever," said the shortest of them. "We're not a real gang. Why would we want to jump someone?"

"No time like the present, but who should we jump?" said the wolf playing with the yo-yo, not stopping his tricks for a moment.

"I bet we can take down a centaur," said the one playing on his mobile device.

"Let's do it! But where the hell would we find a centaur?"

"It's not a big secret. They like mazes, very similar to minotaurs." Glondo spoke into the pot. "I bet we can find one in a subway station."

The werewolves didn't notice the voice hadn't come from any one of them. They all agreed at the suggestion.

"What's the closest one to us?" the yo-yo werewolf asked.

"First Avenue."

"Then to First Avenue we go! Gang, assemble!!"

Jerry began to laugh. "Glondo, you're really having fun with this, making them say nutty things. I have to admit this is entertaining."

Glondo waved over the water pot and the word "MUTE" floated over the surface. "I know! You can make people say, do things and think stuff they wouldn't normally and the best part is, they think they're the ones coming up with it. They are sure that they're the originators of the idea. So if they get caught, it's virtually untraceable back to us." Glondo was about to wave his hand over the pot again when Jerry interrupted.

Forgetting himself, he commented, "Dude, we could use this kind of over-the-shoulder protection during the--"

"The heist, yeah. This is what I'll be doing for you guys from the safety of my own home. It's highly enchanted and fortified. I'll keep an eye on you all and make sure things are going as planned. Speaking of which, Damien, make me a copy of the heist itinerary. I'm gonna need it."

In the other pot, sounds of sirens could be heard as, presumably, BWM agents raided the forest they saw in the transmission. Rabbits and deers scurried about in a panic and several were-rabbits and were-deers were taken into custody for questioning. Glondo chuckled. Then his face changed to serious. "Damien, when you get a chance, please, I need that itinerary. The event is in a few days."

Jerry looked at his son. Roy looked at Damien, shrugging his shoulders as if to say, "dude, can't help you there."

Damien stammered, "Um, well, I don't really have an itinerary. I've just assigned everyone a job to do. I drew my mom and Roy a map of the layout, according to Xandra's description and my recollection when I made contact with her. My mom will be solo for a short time, and there could be a chance Roy and I get separated at some point, so he has his own map."

Some minutes passed as Glondo tried to make sense of the makeshift itinerary Damien provided him. "Hm, there's no timeline at all here," he mumbled, forgetting the werewolves a minute too long.

"Oh crap," Glondo blurted, looking into the pot again. "They already beat the crap out of Hexor, and now they're confused about what to do. One second guys, I gotta handle this. They're starting to walk away without the merchandise."

"Get back there!" Glondo roared at the pot.

"Yo, we should go back to that centaur, guys," said the pack leader.

"Yeah, we should apologize," said the small one. "I don't know what got into us. We're the school chess team."

"No, dumbass, we're gonna rob him too. We can't jump somebody just for no reason. That would be anarchist. We're not lowlifes." The werewolf was parroting Glondo's words. "I heard from some guy that this horse-man has merchandise he's selling on the black market."

"What kind of stuff?" his yo-yo wielding friend asked.

"I don't know. Stuff. What's it matter? Let's go get it."

The entourage, six-deep, coolly rolled back up to the centaur, who was sitting up against the metal grating at the entrance of the Metro station, literally licking his wounds. "What d'yall want now after you dun beat the tar out of me? Don't tell me you've come back for a pony ride. I shan't stand for it."

"We ain't here for riding lessons, weirdo. Where's the stuff? And don't act stupid. I know all about the crap you're selling, and if you don't give it to me, I'm gonna turn you into the cops."

"After I can positively identify you for assault and battery, attempted murder, attempted horseriding, and extortion?"

"Dude, we'll kill you. I won't think twice. Now where is it?"

"That I cannot tell you. You can slice and dice my body if you wish, but I shall nevah surrender the whereabouts of the aforementioned item."

The werewolf that Glondo had control over went to Hexor and grabbed him by the horns. Hexor squeaked. "Now you listen to me, you crazy nut, tell me or I'm breaking your precious horns. They go on the black market for a lot more than the item you're selling. I can simply put your horns on eBay and then buy the merchandise I want from another dealer. But you do understand that, in that scenario, you will have NO HORNS. So I'll leave it up to you."

"Oh lawd a plenty, not my horns!"

Jerry turned to Glondo. "Hold up. How expensive are centaur horns? Why are we going through all this effort to get human blood when we could just take his horns right now?"

Glondo muted the pot to chat with Jerry. The result of that is that the werewolf, without proper guidance, simply held Hexor by the scruff of his neck and breathed in and out menacingly, not saying a word. Hexor looked left and right uncomfortably as the other werewolves lounged about, also uncomfortably.

"Well, it's a soft market for horns in general, unless you can get dragon horns, those are always expensive. So to get a good range for centaur horns, I'd say anywhere between 50 grand and a hundred. But believe me, they're worth more to him than they are to you. However, once Xandra leads you back to the humans, you'll have a cash cow you can milk consistently for millions. Trust me, this heist is a good investment."

"Can't we do both? Take this jerk's horns!"

"Well, I might if he won't talk. But I see no reason to inflict undue injury on him. We already beat the piss out of him. See that puddle?"

The pot was unmuted and the plan was afoot. "Tell me where it is, horseface! And don't feed me no horse crap!" Glondo laughed at Jerry, who smirked sheepishly back.

"Alright, alright I'll tell you, but I must divulge the whereabouts of it in a riddle. It is my curse to always speak in riddles when divulging."

"Okay, what's the riddle?"

Jerry interrupted again. "Why would you let him tell you a riddle? His riddles are so difficult. He's worse than a sphinx! We'll never get the blood that way."

"Would you shut up?" Glondo muted the pot. "Here in my pocket I have a mini centaur riddle translator. It'll play back the location in plain English. Just be quiet and be patient Jerry." Unmute.

"So I'm sorry, where is it again? I wasn't paying attention."

"You wasn't payin' attention?" Hexor huffed, indignantly. "You just told me to shut up while I was sayin' it!"

"Oh, crap. Well, I didn't mean that, I wasn't talking to you when I said 'shut up'. Say it again."

Hexor squinted one eye. "You're a peculiar sort, young werewolf. I think I'll take my chances callin' for help from yonder policefolk. HEEL--" The werewolf Glondo was controlling twisted the left horn. "I'm not playing this time. You tell me, or it's gone. And you'll have to explain this to your wife."

The poor centaur chortled a bit in pain. "Three times in a circle, split once in two, the next step is only one, one away from you."

"Oh, it's...right here. I see it now, it's actually right in front of me. Well, that was anticlimactic."

"I agree, young Lycan. It's not like y'all didn't give me something to talk about with my friends- why these scars are conversation starters, they are. But um, would you be so kind as to pay for that there merchandise? Give me something, throw me a bone, I say. I have a buyer for it, and she will not be pleased. She shall be enraged that I lost her things. She may in fact before this is over have horse soup. I declare, young Wolfsman, you have killed me already."

"Ah, crap," Glondo exclaimed, stricken with conscience. "Okay Hex-Man, I can do something for you. Do you have another empty cooler with ice?"

"I most certainly do."

He huffed through the wolf-jockey. "Wouldn't your buyer understand you got mugged and robbed?"

"She certainly would not. She's a grade A witch with the local coven. She needs to prepare some secret mixture for an annual Witch-Wizard convention. It's this weekend, and she's nearly plumb out of time!"

"How'd you get all that information out of a witch?"

"Why, I'm a charming conversationalist, you carpetbagger."

"Hmm." Glondo and the wolf rubbed their chins pensively. "What was her name?"

"What does it matter?"

"If I'm going to help you I need to know her name. Is she a famous witch? Someone I'd know?"

"I cannot reveal personal information concerning my clientele."

"Do I have to threaten to break your horns again?"

"Lawd a mercy, not my horns! Alright alright. Her name is Broom-lich. She's a petite young German thing, with a fine, tight bottom and bosoms you could bounce a Buffalo nickel off of. But like all in her fairer sex, she is tempestuous and moody, and as changing as the weather in the Bermuda Triangle."

"Broom-lich, huh?" Glondo mused. "Okay, Hexor, I can help you, I think, but only because I feel neighborly today. Don't think I make it a habit to help out centaurs."

Hexor looked over his bloody body and fingered a large swollen welt on his cheek. "Sure is some odd kind of help!"

"Just excuse me one second, I have to think this over." Glondo muted the water pot. "Jerry, do you have any high quality blood here in your house? Something that an unknowing witch might not be able to tell isn't human blood? It should be able to pass inspection."

"I have chi-" Jerry was about to say.

"And no chicken blood. That stuff is pure crap."

Jerry thought it over some more. "How about go-"

"No goat blood. Higher quality stuff. Stuff that smells different, that works differently. The witch might kill your friend if he gives her bad blood. It's got to be close enough to human blood that whatever potion or spell she's concocting, should work regardless."

"Let Hexor get killed! Who gives a crap?" Some feathers molted off.

Glondo calmly, patiently responded in an even voice, "Who will move the human blood once you get ahold of it? If you find the remaining humans' secret lair or whatever, and you convince them to give you weekly 'hush money' in the form of their blood, who do you think can move it except Hexor and his contacts? If he dies, you have to start your supply and sales chain from scratch. Terrible business model for someone who doesn't know what he's doing."

Jerry's eyes shifted a bit. "Well, I mean I have a little monkey blood. That doesn't come cheap. And it's close enough."

Bessie was following the conversation and spying her husband with a suspicious brown eye. "Are you sure, honey, that that's all you have? I seem to remember you putting something 'special' in the wine cellar, in a cabinet all by itself a while back. You said it was blood- 'the good shit."

"Yes, dear," he replied huffingly, "but that's out of the question. It's very expensive and I'm saving it for a special occasion."

"Try me," Glondo said. "What is it?"

"It's Elf blood," Bessie replied quickly.

"What kind of Elf?"

"Worker," Jerry replied even more quickly. "Just regular Worker Elf blood. Nothing exceedingly special."

Bessie put her hands on her hips and as she did her robe accidentally opened. Her knots weren't ever tied well. "Oops! How did those get out?" she laughed. She recovered, putting herself back together and said seriously, "It's High Elf blood, Glondo. I actually can't say I blame him for wanting to keep it. It was a gift from a wealthy patient. A shaman could cure many afflictions with it."

Jerry's feathers frilled. "It wouldn't be enough to fill the witch's order anyway. It's a small glass flask, not ten pints worth, which is what she requires."

"But you have monkey blood to fill in the remainder. And, guess what? With a prick of my finger, you'll have some Fairy blood mixed in. With that she'll be elated to have such high quality material in her possession."

Roy saw the look on Jerry's face, the crinkled, furrowed brow and the distended neck veins, not to mention the ruddy complexion on his cheeks. He opined, "Jerry, remember everyone agreed we'd have to spend some money to make some money. The rest of us are all putting our lives on the line, man. All you have to do is front money to get all our ducks in a row, everything in order. Once we do this thing and pull it off, we'll have money coming out of our butts. Remember,the going rate is $6,500 a pint for old blood, and who knows how much for fresh. Spend a few thousand to make a few million, right?"

Glondo patted Jerry on the hand consolingly. "Okay, Dr. Veejay, I'm sure you have monkey blood in medical IV bags, just like the ones that Hexor has for the humans. You're gonna have to squirt all that blood out into a big cauldron, and we'll mix in the Elf and Fairy blood in there, then put it back."

"What if the Elf blood's fermented? It must be wine, or juice or vinegar by now."

"Elf blood don't go bad, Jerry. Now stop being a putz."

Jerry called time out with his hands and stared at Glondo reproachfully. "Hold up, I just noticed something. Didn't I just meet you and all of a sudden you're in charge of this whole operation? How did that happen?"

"Look, Jerry, I know how reticent you might be about this entire plan, how much you stand to lose, and your fear of being caught, but the reality of it is, my friend, that this heist is something you cannot physically back out of. Your boneheaded son made a promise to some very powerful people who would just as much rather storm the White House themselves. They'll be holding him responsible for the success or failure of the mission. And it isn't just lucky that I'm around and I'm willing to help. I'd go so far as to say you couldn't possibly succeed without me. Not without my know-how or my power. I helped set up the White House security systems and defense platform. I know where the mages are and what they're looking for. I know where each of the wizards is on guard, where the central command center of the Service is, and all of the visible security that's for show. You wouldn't get two steps onto the Great Lawn without me. So, you're welcome Doctor, for helping you and your family," he quickly glanced at Fangra, "and your troll." He looked at Roy. "And your boyfriend."

Roy became uncomfortable. He searched for and then found a bottle of chicken blood.

"Well," the good doctor punctuated. He looked at his son. Damien nervously played with Glinda's blue hair. "Somehow I believe you, Glondo. Well, what are we waiting for? Let's put all this monkey and Elf blood--"

"And Faerie," Glondo added.

"And Faerie," Jerry agreed, "blood in this cauldron so we can switch it with the human blood. Thank you." They poured every drop into the cauldron. Then Glondo pricked his right index finger with a long, thin golden needle he'd had in his pocket, and hovered it over the brew. A tiny crimson tear fell softly as a feather into the mix.

"That's it?" Damien asked, astonished.

"That's more than enough," answered Glinda. "Fairies are among the most powerful of creatures in all the world. I can't even think of any more powerful, except an especially mighty witch, or wizard, or warlock. But they are rare. Many centuries apart, I'd imagine."

Glinda waved her hand over the witch's brew and turned to her father. "Shall I do the honors, daddy?"

"Of course, honey," was the proud response.

She waved her hand again, and the cauldron sparkled out of vision. "Okay, the transaction is complete." The blood was effectively switched.

On Hexor's end, he saw his own ice-packed cooler of blood sparkle, but saw little difference afterwards. "I say there, what just happened?"

"I just saved your life," said the werewolf. "Take this to Broom-lich. Now we're even. Let's go boys!" And the gang walked back to their stomping grounds near the school, exceedingly confounded as Glondo detached himself from their company.

"Got any champagne?" he asked Bessie. "We need to celebrate! Preparations are almost complete! The human blood is in your freezer,and it looks like you guys are almost done making batches of magic concoctions. All you gotta do is tie up a few odds and ends, and you're ready!" He materialized a lit cigar. "Jerry, you need to get your tuxedo, and we need to get Fangra a nice dress. Then there's a few other things to take care of, but the biggest things are out of the way at least. I'm calculating that we're ahead of schedule, guys! Now, let's spend the rest of the day relaxing and celebrating our first successful venture!"

Glondo wasted no time conjuring a Dionysus-like fountain of wine in the living room. He filled a goblet and gulped it down. Jerry didn't need to be told twice to help himself. None of them had ever sampled Fairy Wine before, and the taste was intoxicating. Jerry passed a goblet to Bessie, Roy, and Fangra. After polishing off another goblet, he brought wine to Damien and Glinda as well. The drinking age was 18 after the humans went extinct, and Damien just barely made the cut. Glinda was over a century old so she also made the cut.

Bessie, who was still in her robe, would occasion to flash the new guests, much to the chagrin of her now drunk husband.

"Why you gotta...(hiccup)...show your parts off to everyone? Don't you know I...(hiccup)...I love you? And I get jealous." After this honesty from her husband, Bessie kept a tighter tie on her robe. It was cute that after all this time, he still got jealous of her. She considered to herself that perhaps her husband hadn't been giving her enough attention of late, so she sought it through her latent exhibitionism.

As the hour grew late, Roy turned to Glinda and asked, "So what's your deal? You know, what is the big deal about fairies?"

"We don't have a deal," Glinda said.

"Sure you do. You're some of the most powerful creatures, but no one really knows that. Fairy history is murky. How come? How'd you get so powerful?"

"Maybe you should stop spiking the chicken blood," was Glinda's response.

Her father, however, thought Roy had a point. A little history (and honesty) would only help the heist. Glondo clinked his goblet and shushed the partygoers. "Gather 'round, everyone, I got a story to tell you."

"I don't want some damn bedtime story," Jerry whined. "You'll put us all to sleep with a bedtime..(hiccup)...and I don't wanna go to sl--- (hiccup)."

"It's not a bedtime story. It's educational. Do any of you know how magic happened to come to this world?"

Damien sheepishly raised his hand.

"Yes, Damien?"

"Am I allowed to say it?" Damien asked.

"Yes, you can say it, Damien. It's okay."

"Magic came from Oberon's Realm, sir. I don't know any more than that- I found that information in an old dusty tome in the library, which I sort of borrowed, and now it's upstairs in my room. It said that the true history of magic on earth is a secret held by very few people."

"Yes, you're right. Those of us who lived long enough to be around back then remember it."

"So you know the secret?"

"Yes, and I'm going to share it with you guys- maybe it's the booze talking but the hell with it. You all have to swear never to repeat a word I tell you. I mean it. Your lives could be in danger if you do, but I figure you have a right to know the truth.

"To begin, Oberon's Realm is a magical dimension ruled by King Oberon, who is known as the King of the Fairies. Therefore his realm is sometimes called The Faerie Realm. All magic originates from his realm, and all the fairytale creatures you're familiar with nowadays came from there too. Oberon maintained peace in the land for thousands of years, but that didn't mean the peace didn't come with a price. It did. It was hard-fought. Often he would have to send his armies to quash rebellions from towns and cities that wished to secede from his rule.

Some creatures resented the reign of a Faerie over them. Witch covens and Wizard lodges grew particularly disillusioned and angry. Some joined together to foment unrest in the otherwise peaceful capital of Fantasia. Small uprisings grew more and more frequent. The witch Morgana was the leader of the mutineers. They dubbed themselves The Iron Silvers because iron is resistant to magic and silver is magic-proof. Their sole purpose was the overthrow of the regime; it was in their charter. Morgana, however, had more sinister plans. She had studied dark magic a very long time, until she matched the skill of Oberon. She intended to become Queen of the Realm, but in order to do that, she'd have to obtain the very heart of the realm, the Kaleidomagica, source of all magic. No one knows where it is hidden, exactly, or what it looks like, or what it's made of. She and her band of powerful creatures stormed Oberon's castle, wielding power greater than most in the king's guard.

Oberon, fiercely defended by powerful weapons of his own, sent in reserves to quell the onslaught. Oberon hardly ever engaged in battle directly."

"Why?" Damien asked.

Glondo blinked in surprise. He hadn't expected his history lesson to be interrupted, but at least he knew the boy was listening.

"The reason for this is plain," Glondo continued. "Those who are most resistant to magic are most incapable of wielding it. Think of Hexor, who couldn't cast a spell to save his life. The opposite is also true, that is that the most powerful wielders of magic are often the most susceptible to its effects. The vanguard of Oberon's most elite protectors and knights were able to repel the attack and capture Morgana. Most of her minions were caught, but a small number escaped capture. Morgana was held within the palace confines while a holding cell deep in the forest was being built to imprison her and her treacherous crew.

Finally the fortress in the forest was completed by the realm's greatest masons and enchanters. It was time to transport the prisoners to its bowels, but on the journey from the palace prison to the hold in the forest, Morgana escaped. She was guarded by knights and caged in silver, but her magic knows little bounds. She uttered a spell under her breath- and then she vanished! The guards traveling with her in caravan were astonished and sounded an alarm. It was the worst thing they could do. It drew unwanted attention.

What Morgana had effectively done was that she created a portal, a doorway to Earth. Looking at it, it was invisible. Some creatures walked right into it and didn't realize they'd stumbled into another dimension. People were astonished that she'd been able to cast the spell at all, let alone from within the confines of iron and silver! Oberon sent many special operations teams after her, led by the powerful Wizard Merlin. Within the realm, Oberon had technicians working on closing the portal. Daily progress reports would come from scouts on both sides of the portal, but the news was never good; it appeared Morgana had hidden well in Earth and set down roots there.

The longer the doorway stayed open, the more creatures knew about it, and they had passed through in droves. At night there were lines at the border of our worlds filled with immigrant magical creatures seeking to leave their homeland. Oberon decided that it had gone on long enough. He sent a final regiment lead by a Knight Captain with a duty to search for Morgana, and then with great effort he closed the portal himself. The change it caused in him was undeniable."

"How'd he change?" Damien asked.

"He was betrayed and abandoned. He had lost the war. So many of his people chose to leave, to become immigrants in a far, unknown land. There was no bridge to both worlds, and those already on Earth remained stranded. I was one of the Faerie Knights that got stranded here. That was between 1000 and 1500 years ago.

"Merlin, leading the campaign to find Morgana and bring her to justice, grew alarmed at the realization that the humans on Earth might be subject to her evil. Their blood can be powerful when used in certain potions, and in Morgana's short time on Earth, her trail of dead bodies was very long. So Merlin cast a powerful spell, although not very air-tight apparently, that 'no magic can ever be used to directly harm mankind.' That obviously left a few loopholes.

"His search for Morgana brought him to England eventually, in the earliest Dark Ages. Merlin grew fond of the humans, and took a young prince named Arthur under his wing, teaching him the ways of magic and sorcery. They together fought Morgana to a standstill, which ended in a nearly thousand year truce. Morgana, Arthur, and Merlin were suspended in a deep sleep. Merlin and Arthur were to re-awaken should Morgana threaten trouble again. But they didn't awaken. No one knows truly where they are or why they didn't wake, but Morgana awoke sometime in the 2030s. Somehow she cast a more powerful spell than Merlin, because she got rid of humankind since she awakened.

"And now you know how we all got here. After the humans disappeared, magic was allowed to thrive. Because of Merlin's enchantment, magic could never have flourished in a world with humans. With mankind gone, that wasn't a problem."

Glondo finished his tale and sat down again. The rest of the crew sat in silence as they processed the information. The first one to speak was Damien.

"So that means that Glinda's..."

"She's not as old as you think. I married her mother about a hundred and twenty years ago, an Elf enchantress, with a curves you can bounce an Oberon dollar off of. Sorry, doll," he said looking at his red-cheeked daughter. "It's just that I always get carried away thinking about that blue haired fox. You know, you guys are gonna probably see her at the Presidential Ball."

"How's that, come again?" Roy choked on his chicken fluid.

"She works for Zylex. She's his chief of staff. It's why I divorced her. I don't agree with his politics. Whatever happened to the American dream? Zylex has ruined America."

"You divorced her because you were worried about the American dream?"

"Well ... more or less."

"What about the great looks you were talking about?"

"I have a photogenic memory. I get by just fine without her, if you know what I mean. Also, after two thousand years of making sweet music with gorgeous women, I'm taking a few decades off."

"Daddy! Dammit, I'm right here!"

"I know puddin', hello there."

"All right, I think we're straying a little off focus right now," Jerry observed as Bessie fanned herself.

Glondo hiccupped drunkenly. "Right, I was about to tell you all about a little teensy tiny mission you have to go on for me. Before the heist. Or the heist is gonna fail. Partly why I got you drunk first."

Jerry spat out his wine and Roy, as if to attempt synchronicity, spat out his coveted spiked chicken blood shortly after. "More missions?" Jerry sputtered. "Can't we just have a heist already? Why...(hiccup) all the preparations, and other stuff? Hmm?"

Glondo sucked his teeth at them "You were never a project manager or anything, were you? You gotta be completely prepared and get every single one of your ducks in a row. Otherwise you might as well not even try. This is a smart but difficult operation. Your biggest asset is me! I won't be anywhere near the whole thing, but I am by far the most powerful magic assistance you've got." He looked at Damien, who had blushed deep red. "No offense kid. You got a lot of potential. You got wizard blood from your dad's side of the family and were- blood from your mom; it's a good combo, believe me. You keep practicing and keep at it,and someday you might be even more powerful than me. But that day ain't here yet. My magic is faerie magic, and I've been tried and tested for a few thousand years."

Fangra stumbled like a rhinoceros on quaaludes towards the conversation. Trolls have good hearing but have a hard time projecting their gravelly voices. "Well, okay, what, what do we need to do then? Tell us, and we'll do it. We've come so far for so long, that, that we gotta finish, whatever it takes." She was swaying, to which everyone kept extra attention on her.

Bessie looked at her husband's receptionist with warmer eyes than before. "You know, I agree with Fangra. Let's map it out and get everything ready. We're so close and the hardest part is behind us." She looked at the two fairies. "Right? Behind us?"

Glinda looked at her dad cross-armed. "Well dad, you're the expert on everything. What do you say?"

"There's still a few things ahead of us. Jerry and Fangra need to rent or buy their outfits. Fangra can't until she's no longer hideous...I mean until she's been beautified ... whatever. You're a troll. You know what you look like." She sneered drunkenly. "And I need a small team assembled to go get me ambrosia. I need ambrosia in order to stay at full power."

"Ambrosia?" Roy remarked.

Damien cut in. "Yeah Roy. Ambrosia used to be called 'the food of the gods' by the ancient Greeks. They believed that the gods on Mount Olympus ate it in order to maintain their immortality and power. They also drank nectar-wine and mead, for sustenance."

"That's right."

Roy took it all in. "So why do you need it, then? You're a faerie, not a god."

"Well, according to the ancient Greeks I'm kinda both. When we came to earth, we traveled the world looking for Morgana. When we got to Greece, some of us...indulged in being worshipped and served hand and foot, and being given ambrosia and nectar until we plotzed. It was a really cushy gig over there on Olympus."

"Which one were you?"

"I don't even really remember, to be honest. I was Hermes, I think. I dunno."

Damien smiled. "So where's this nectar and ambrosia?"

Glondo eyed him endearingly. "The ladies should stay behind and tend to the beautification of Fangra and getting her dress ready. You, your dad and Roy should go to Atlantis. Yes, it's THE Atlantis. There you'll get me ambrosia from the mermaids.

"In the latter days of the Greek gods, we began to fear that Morgana and her recruits on earth might come and try to take our crap and use it against us. Olympus is good for a lot of things, but it lacked fortifications. The 'gods' and 'goddesses' made nice with the mer-folk who served Poseidon. He's really my brother Flondo, but he believed his own story so much that I doubt he remembers his true heritage. But believe me, Poseidon is my faerie twin. His kingdom was the best protected among all of our fortresses, so we put the rest of the world's ambrosia and nectar there for safe-keeping. Ambrosia comes from Oberon's Realm, so it's a non-renewable source of energy, since the door to the realm has been closed for a while."

Damien beamed. Jerry could plainly see how hard he'd wanted to please Glinda's father. Jerry felt a bothersome pang of jealousy, so he said in a booming voice, "Alright, I'm all in. How do we go about getting this god-food?"

"I have a map," Glondo said, and reached into his pocket.

"Everything's within arm's distance to you, isn't it? Must be great to have all that magic," said Jerry in the same tone the poor trolls in the bad part of town would sometimes harass folk they considered wealthy.

Glondo ignored the jibe. "Eventually you need to go way underwater, so I'll have to enchant you to withstand the pressure and to be able to breathe. The entrance is at a lagoon near the beach. It's guarded by Sirens. Do not allow them to draw you away from your mission. They're notorious for taking men off course."

"How's that?" Roy inquired.

Damien looked like he wanted to field that question too, then appeared to reconsider, perhaps assuming it'd be annoying to continue playing teacher's pet. His excitement got the better of him, and he answered anyway. "They're the most attractive women on earth. There is no denying them, no avoiding them. They're simply the hottest ever. A million times hotter than Helen of Troy."

"And she was sum'm else," Glondo murmured.

"So..." Jerry began to soliloquize in his angry, shaking, feather ruffling manner. "Why are three MEN on this stupid mission involving Sirens and naked- I'm assuming naked, mermaids. They're naked right?"

"Naked," Glondo agreed.

"Wouldn't it be best if the women were on this mission then, dammit? I can watch TV after I get my tux and relax? Am I right?"

Bessie crossed her arms. "You know, I'm not sure I like this idea of you being around all these naked women, Jerry." This new mission awoke a jealousy in her that she thought was dead as well.

Glondo laughed. "No need to worry, folks. Don't get your udders in a twist, Bessie. I'll also put an enchantment on the guys to lower their libido to practically zero." He saw the horrified looks on the faces of the men, and he laughed once more. "It's only temporary. Also, spells and enchantments can be highly specialized. I can make it be specifically low libido in the presence or view of mermaids and Sirens only."

Bessie was not convinced. "Maybe you should make it a generalized spell, Glondo. I don't trust Jerry."

"Woman, it's my sex drive that keeps me from punching you in the snout. Would you please put on some real clothes! You've been wearing robes for three weeks straight!" He'd started to crack and whine like a child who was about to cry.

"Oh alright, you big baby."

"Thank you!"

Glondo looked around at everybody, as if to assure everything was settled. They'd all sobered up since his tale.

"Okay, here's the map." He handed it to Damien. Then he whispered into his hands for a few minutes, and releasing his hands, blue magical energy flowed into Damien, Jerry and Roy. "I've also put an enchantment of protection over you. There's danger everywhere, so even with the enchantment, be careful. And remember, it'll wear off, so be wise and on guard at all times. Oh! I almost forgot- the most important piece." He took off his ring. "Carry this with you- it should allow your entry into the Water Kingdom and through into Atlantis. Every Olympian had a distinct magical ring. To prove that you go as my vassals, present the ring if you should be questioned. Hold the ring up when you're at the gates of Atlantis, and demand to speak with Lord Poseidon. When he gives you the right of parlay, you'll tell him that you killed me and took the ring from me. You'll demand my portion of ambrosia and nectar. And if you love your lives, don't ever call him by his real name, Flondo."

"Why do we have to say we killed you?" Roy asked. Fangra seemed to be getting bored. She'd begun twirling her hair and chewing bubble gum as if she already were blond and beautiful.

"Because my brother hates me. It's a long story involving a girl, as all good feuds are. It's why I can't go myself." He looked at Damien. "And don't try to use the magic in the ring. It'll recognize that you're not me and imprison you where you stand." He looked at the three musketeers. "Alright then, off you go. You've got a mission to accomplish."

Glinda raised her hand as if to say "stop," and everyone stopped. "Give it one more day. They can't go just yet Daddy. Damien can't go just yet. He worked so hard on the beautification potion- he should be here when we apply it to the troll. At least if it doesn't work, the designer of the potion would be here to fix it." Fangra blew a bubble in a nonchalant way.

"Fair enough, pumpkin. Everyone get some sleep tonight. No sense in running you dry before the heist. It has to be done first thing in the morning though, because we don't have time to waste."

"Yes sir!" Damien almost saluted. Jerry scowled. The faeries returned to their home for the night, and Jerry was glad to be rid of them.

Chapter 6

Fangra was up early the next morning, ready and waiting in Jerry's living room. She hadn't slept much the night before. Around 7:00 am, Jerry peeked his head in the living room.

"Where's Damien?" he asked.

"I'm still waiting for him," said Fangra.

Jerry grumbled and disappeared. Five minutes later Damien shuffled into the room, still in his pajamas. He rubbed his eyes and stifled a yawn.

"Morning Sleeping Beauty," said Fangra.

"You too. You ready to look less abrasive?"

"Sure, let's get this over with."

Damien took the potion out of the cabinet.

"That dress is going to be too big," he told Fangra.

"What do you want me to do? Get naked first?" She was teasing him maliciously.

"Hell no. What's wrong with you? Just get changed before you go buy the dress."

Bessie ran into the room.

"I have a robe for you!" she said.

"Great," said Fangra.

Roy walked into the room. "You haven't changed her yet?"

"I'm working on it," said Damien.

"We have to leave soon."

"I said I'm working on it."

"Did I miss it?" shouted Jerry from the other room.

"NO!" shouted Fangra. "Let's get this show on the road."

Jerry ran into the room with a bowl of popcorn and sat on the couch. Roy shook his head as Jerry stuffed fistfuls of it into his mouth.

Damien measured out a small amount of the potion. "I'm not going to use the strengthening mixture this morning because you don't need to stay beautiful that long. This is just a beta test."

"What if I change back in the middle of shopping?"

"Not gonna happen. You'll be fine."

"Come on," said Jerry. "I'm running out of popcorn."

Fangra growled at Jerry. She took the potion from Damien and swallowed it in one gulp.

"This tastes like crap," said Fangra. "When does it -" Fangra hiccupped. And then again. And again.

"What the hell," said Jerry.

"We're waiting for the sneeze," said Damien.

"What?"

Fangra's hiccups got faster and faster until there was barely a pause between them. Then suddenly they stopped.

"That was - " Fangra both sneezed and farted, and she was immediately transformed into a tall bombshell. Her body was thin, but not too skinny. Her now oversized dress hid her perfect hourglass figure. She had long, bouncy, golden hair that framed a perfectly symmetrical face which housed large violet eyes, dark lashes, and full, pouty lips. The tips of her ears were ever so slightly curved and pointed at the top.

"Holy cow!" said Bessie.

"Let me see a mirror. Woah, is that my voice?"

Fangra's gruff voice had disappeared, and a silky smooth, hushed tone replaced it. Damien handed her a mirror, too impressed with his own handiwork to say anything snarky. Fangra held the mirror to her face and froze.

"What do you think?" asked Damien.

There was a short pause. Then- "Damn! I look good!" She farted again as if to punctuate her sentence.

"I told you. And by the way, lose the flatulence. Pretty people don't pass gas in public. Although now because of the elixir, all your farts smell like vanilla and lavender."

"Those mean girls in high school would probably cry with envy if they saw me. I'm smoking. You got a full length mirror?"

"Calm down there Barbie," said Damien with a smile.

"Who the hell is Barbie?"

Damien looked around the room, and every face that looked back at him was trying to puzzle out what he meant.

"It's a toy from ... oh never mind. Let's get that stupid ambrosia."

"You've got to get dressed first," said Roy.

"You think?" said Damien as he stomped out of the room.

"Hello?" said Fangra, calling every eye in the room back on her. "Where the hell is my full length mirror," she barked.

No one bothered to answer, so Fangra contented herself with staring at her own reflection in the handheld mirror, trying to scan her entire figure piece by piece.

Damien came back into the room, fully dressed with a pile of clothes in his arms.

"Here Fangra," he said. "Put this on." He handed her a loose housedress with a mauve and orange flower print, cap sleeves, and pockets in the front.

"What is that?" asked Fangra.

"You can't go shopping in a robe."

"They'll laugh me out of the store if I go in wearing that."

"Hey," said Bessie. "That's my best dress."

Fangra crossed her now slender arms over her chest and gave a full pout. She tossed her hair over her shoulder.

"I'm not wearing that. Find me something else. Something cute."

"Ironically enough, I created a monster," muttered Damien.

"We don't have time for this," said Roy. "Damien, Jerry, and I have to go. We still have to stop by Glondo's so he can put the enchantment on us again. Fangra, for crying out loud, just get dressed."

Roy ushered Damien and Jerry out of the house, amid Damien's glares and Jerry's muttering over missing his morning coffee. Fangra turned to Bessie.

"Do you have any clothes that aren't repulsive?" she asked.

"Of course I do!" Bessie said. "That's one of them," she added under her breath.

"They'll probably be too big for me anyway."

Bessie bristled. "You can cut the happy-go-lucky act any time now," she stated sarcastically.

Fangra tugged at her oversized clothes, cinching the shirt at the waist to get an idea of her figure.

"Can you call Glinda?" Fangra asked.

"What for?" asked Bessie. "You want her to come too?"

"I'll need a second opinion on my dress."

"I thought that's what I'm for," said Bessie.

"Please. I've never seen you wear anything but a robe. You were either pink, white or tan. So cliche`. So bovine. Excuse me if I don't just adore your sense of style."

Bessie soured, and after an annoyed call to Glinda, she led Fangra upstairs to pick out an outfit for herself. She stripped out of the oversized troll outfit, and searched in the robe. The robe hugged her beautiful body better than the pink cardigan. Fangra tore through Bessie's closet, throwing aside dress after dress, stopping only long enough to make a snide comment about each. When she had exhausted the choices in the closet, Fangra helped herself to Bessie's dresser, where she had even less luck. Bessie was just wondering if Damien would have a spell to clean up the tossed-about mess when the doorbell rang. Fangra raced to the front door to let in Glinda.

"You have to help me! I can't dress like a frigging cow."

Glinda blinked a few times in shock.

"Wow," she said.

"I know," said Fangra. "I look good, don't I? I'm even prettier than you, now." Fangra looked over her stunning new body, and waved her arms over it to show Glinda. "Girl, I need you. Bessie has nothing to wear, and I can't go shopping in a robe."

"That's from Damien's potion? That physique and everything?"

"Yep. That boy thought up a good design."

"Yeah ... I mean, what? I thought he copied the potion from his book."

Bessie joined Fangra at the door.

"Nope," Bessie said. "He created his own look. He didn't want Fangra to look like every other pretty face, or that's what Jerry told me. So he created his own version of beautiful."

"Did he design the body too?" Glinda asked, eyeing Fangra's voluptuous curves. Her proportions were ridiculous. No one looked like that. It was wapow, then thin waist, then wapow again.

Bessie rolled her eyes. "Boys."

"You have to make an outfit for me," said Fangra. "Everything Bessie has is hideous."

"You don't need to look like a million bucks to go to the store and buy a dress."

Fangra glowered. "Seriously, this body, and you want me to look like a cow's sister. Girl, please."

Glinda reluctantly pulled out her wand, and in a puff, Fangra appeared in a black dress with short sleeves, a round collar, and a little red belt.

"Well?" asked Glinda.

"I need a full length mirror. Now!"

Glinda rolled her eyes, and with a wave of her wand, a mirror appeared in front of Fangra. Fangra looked at herself, turning to admire herself from every angle. And with every extra curve that Damien threw in, there were many good angles. She gingerly fingered the dress before her smile transformed into a scowl.

"I look like an old maid."

"You do not," Glinda shot back.

"Look at this collar. Could it be any closer to my neck? And these sleeves? Please. I've seen five-year-olds with less poof. I thought you had style, Glinda."

"Why don't I put you in a sweater and glasses like before? Or a potato sack?"

"That would only prove that you're jealous and trying to sabotage me."

With a angry snap of the wand, Fangra's outfit changed to an orange and white sundress. The top of the dress hugged every curve, and the short skirt flowed away from her flawless hips.

"This is perfect," said Fangra. "Finally, something that makes me look half decent."

"Yeah, it shows just what you want to show. T & A," said Glinda. "No personality whatsoever."

Bessie cocked an eyebrow, but Glinda didn't seem to notice. Not that Bessie minded. She had heard much worse from her husband and son, but she never expected sweet little Glinda speak so vulgar.

"Question," said Bessie. "If Glinda can create an outfit, why do we need to go to the store to get you something? Can't Glinda make it for you?"

Fangra shook her head dismissively. "Everyone who's anyone will be there, and when they ask which designer I'm wearing, I need a name to put with the dress. Blue-haired little Glinda from the house around the corner isn't going to cut it. Besides, when I buy a dress, they make sure no one else has the same one. Can Glinda give me that guarantee? I don't think so. I would die if I were caught in the same dress as a uglier creature."

"Whatever! Let's just get this over with," said Glinda.

"I'm ready... as soon as you two get changed."

Bessie and Glinda looked down at their clothes.

"Why the hell would we get changed?" asked Glinda.

"I thought you'd want to, considering what I look like. At least attempt to match this."

"You ... you are just horrible."

"Fine. I was trying to help. Don't blame me when no one gives you a second look today."

Glinda growled, and with a puff of blue smoke, she was suddenly wearing a tight, hot pink dress, orange heels, and a sunflower clipped in her extra glossy blue hair.

"Bessie, whatcha want?" Glinda bellowed.

"That's alright dear. I'll find something upstairs."

"Those clothes upstairs don't belong anywhere but the trash," said Fangra.

"For crying out loud! Glinda, do your worst."

Glinda looked at Bessie sideways. With one last puff and pop, Bessie's bathrobe was replaced with a black blazer trimmed in white, tight white jeans, and red pumps. Bessie had a silk and lace camisole under the blazer. Fangra looked at her companions and smirked.

"That's better. Come on ladies. Let's roll."

"How are we getting there?" asked Bessie. "Jerry doesn't have a car. He refuses to pay the insurance. Fangra, can we use yours?"

"I won't be seen in that. That thing is uglier than ogre balls. It's from a time before self respect."

"I've got an idea," said Glinda. She pulled a small cloth out of her purse and placed it on her palm. She blew on the fabric, and it slowly hovered in her hand. She stepped back, and the cloth started to expand until a full magic carpet hovered in front of them. It had a glossy tortoise shell pattern.

"How's this for stylish transport?" Glinda asked.

"Can you fly that thing?" asked Bessie.

"Of course. All that waits is Queen Fangra's approval."

"How am I supposed to climb onto that in a dress?" Fangra asked.

"You know, magic carpets are considered luxury vehicles. They're very hard to come by, but I would understand if you were uncomfortable. So we'll both go by carpet and we can meet you there. You can just call a cab."

Fangra's purple eyes lit up with defiance, and she crawled onto the carpet, followed by Bessie. Glinda unfurled her fairy wings and flew above them and gracefully landed in front of Fangra.

"Everyone hold on." Glinda placed her palms flat on the carpet and directed it into the sky. She smiled as an idea came to her. With a jerk, the carpet flew into the sky. With swift, sharp movements, Glinda guided the carpet into dives, spins, and curves, speeding as fast as she could make it go. Bessie gripped the sides of the carpet desperately, and Fangra struggled to look aloof while they careened from side to side. In no time at all, Glinda caught sight of their destination. She dove straight down, pulling up at the last minute to save them from crashing into the pavement. They hovered for a moment, catching their breath in front of the boutique.

Glinda hopped off the carpet, readjusting her dress. She put two hands on her head to check her hair. Her hair was huge and frizzy, a result from the wild ride that brought them here. With a smirk, Glinda turned around to look at her companions. Bessie's hair had suffered the same fate; it had grown so wild that Bessie's face was barely visible in the mess. Glinda turned to Fangra, and her jaw dropped. Fangra's hair was as silky smooth as ever. If anything, it looked better than before.

Fangra climbed off the carpet and playfully tossed her hair over her shoulder.

"Glinda," she said. "Your poor head. You're a hot mess." She rubbed Glinda's arm consolingly. She caught sight of her reflection in the store window. She twirled to examine her calves, her thighs, her butt, her hair. "Not me; I look gorgeous."

Glinda gripped her wand so hard her knuckles turned white. She jerked her shoulders, and her hair and Bessie's hair fell, sitting nearly as smooth as Fangra's hair.

"Come on girls," said Fangra. "Shopping awaits."

Glinda and Bessie trudged behind her and entered the boutique. The store was in a tizzy when they entered. Nymphs were spraying perfume at customers passing by. Fawns were pushing beauty products on every creature under the moon. Bessie stopped short.

"This is hell," she said.

"This is perfection," said Fangra. "Hurry up. The map says the boutique is on the thirteenth floor."

"Can't you buy a gown down here?"

"Girl, I might be belatedly beautiful, but I overheard a lot of things when I wasn't. My looks kept me out of this world so long that now, I want the best. And Morticia's is the best. The higher the floor, the higher the style, am I right?"

Fangra led the way to the elevators, and the crowd parted as she passed. Glinda hovered close to Fangra, casually flipping her hair, hoping to be noticed at all, but all eyes were on Fangra as the three made their way to _Morticia's Mode for the Stylish_. _Morticia's Mode_ ran the entire length of the thirteenth floor. In it were sold high quality feminine garments. Each section was broken up by article, which had its own lounge area and fitting specialist. In the very back of the store was the section for gowns, headed by Morticia herself.

Fangra walked straight down the center of the floor, her heels clacking with stern purpose on the linoleum. Bessie hurried to catch up with her.

"Are you sure we can afford this?" Bessie asked. "It looks expensive."

"We have to be convincing. This is the President's Ball, after all. What do you expect me to wear? A second-hand sack?"

"No use arguing with her," said Glinda. "Let's just hope it doesn't take all day. I have to poop."

"I can't make any promises," said Fangra.

Fangra marched right up to the counter, gave three short raps on the gong, and rolled her eyes at the 7 seconds she had to wait. A pair of heavy curtains behind the counter parted, and Morticia practically glided into the boutique. Morticia stood two feet tall. Her jet-black hair was cropped in sharp angles at her chin. She wore golden bangles on both arms, her eyes were painted gold, and her tall platform boots made her only as tall as Fangra's hip. Morticia rested her chin on her hand as she examined the three creatures in front of her.

"What may I do for you?" she asked.

"I need a gown for the President's Ball," said Fangra.

"And the other two ladies?"

Fangra waved her hand dismissively. "They weren't invited."

"I see. And your name?"

"Caroline."

"Wait here," and with a turn of her heel, Morticia disappeared behind the curtains.

"Where the hell did you come up with 'Caroline'?" said Glinda.

"Well, you can't possibly think that someone as beautiful as me would have the name Fangra? That's my troll name. We have to cover all our bases if we're going to pull this thing off right. And you can't blame me for having a little fun with it. A change of identity every now and then never hurt anybody."

Glinda tried to bite back a laugh. Sure Caroline was annoying, but in a weird way, Glinda knew where the post-troll was coming from.

Morticia reappeared from behind the curtain with a small golden card in her hand. "Follow me," she said, leading the ladies to a private fitting area. The walls of the fitting room were made up entirely of mirrors stretching from floor to ceiling. Morticia motioned for Bessie, Glinda, and Fangra to sit on the plush red couch while she inserted the card into a slot in the wall. A small hologram hovered in front of Morticia.

"Do you have a price limit?"

"No," said Fangra. "Whatever it takes to look my best."

Morticia typed quickly on the hologram. Suddenly, a rack of elegant gowns sprang from the wall and spread out before them.

"Tell me which you like, and we can narrow it down to a few picks."

"I like the blue one," said Glinda.

"That's blase`, Glinda," said Fangra. "I wouldn't be caught dead in that. Well, maybe dead."

"What about the red dress? See, that one-shouldered dress?" asked Bessie.

"Tacky. Honestly girls, your opinions belong in the shoe department. Wait! That's it!"

Fangra pointed to a floor-length gold, strapless dress that shimmered with the slightest movement.

"Excellent choice," said Morticia. "That dress is covered completely in mermaid scales, making it the most exclusive dress in our collection. Fifteen mermaids were slaughtered to make just the tulle poofs around the waist."

"That's it," said Fangra. "I have to try it on."

"Why didn't they just use tulle?" Bessie asked the air.

"Follow me," said Morticia.

Bessie grabbed Fanrga's arm before she left. "How are we going to afford this?" she hissed.

"If this plan works, we don't need to worry about money."

"And if it doesn't?"

"Then the least of our problems is the price of my dress. What's a small fortune when you're facing federal grand theft? You think that a failure means we get to go home and say aw shucks? No, we'd be going to prison for life."

Bessie plopped down on the couch as Fangra, that is, Caroline, walked away.

"This is ridiculous," said Glinda.

"She's right though. About the dress."

"Who cares," said Glinda. "She's mean. And I really have to poop."

"Not much we can do about that, her being mean that is. After a lifetime of being a troll, it's hard to be the most beautiful Elf on earth without it getting to her head. As for your other issue, the bathroom's right there."

Glinda's eyes sparkled as she pulled out her wand. "I can't go in a public bathroom."

She looked over to Caroline voguing in the mirror. The superior look in the troll's eye drove her crazy.

Glinda twisted her wand in both hands. "I can't believe you're Damien's own image of feminine beauty," she muttered.

Bessie smiled and patted Glinda on the arm.

"What?" Glinda barked, then remembered herself.

"No need to get jealous of a potion."

"I'm not jealous. I'm annoyed. That's not the same thing."

"You seem a little more than annoyed," said Bessie.

"Why would I be jealous? I have a boyfriend, thank you very much."

"Oh right. I forgot about him."

"So did everyone," said Fangra. "So did Damien. Do you guys mind? You're distracting me from me."

"If you weren't so selfish, maybe I could take a moment to figure things out," said Glinda.

"What's there to figure out? We all know you have the hots for him, and he's ga-ga for you, so all you have to figure out is how to dump that tool."

Glinda opened and closed her mouth several times; then she gave up and flopped on the couch. Morticia glided over to her.

"You know, we sell more than gowns here so feel free to look around," Morticia said. "Just because you're not going to the Ball doesn't mean you can't treat yourself. I'll finish up with Caroline if you would like to start browsing."

Bessie gently nudged Glinda's shoulder.

"Come on. Let's go look at dresses."

Bessie led Glinda to the section of the boutique that carried casual dresses. Trying on one dress became needing three dresses became a bill of over $500. But Glinda was considerate. She knew it was Bessie's turn to shop, and she didn't relax until Bessie had bought a couple of hundred dollars worth of dresses for herself as well. They were walking to the bathing suits when Fangra joined them.

"Where's the dress?" asked Bessie.

"They're shipping it to your house," said Fangra. "That way I don't muss it up on the ride home. It's probably already there. I asked for Sprite service. What's that you've got there?"

"A few dresses."

"Well, do you need shoes to go with them? Cause I need some for the Ball, and I wouldn't mind the company."

They headed to the shoe department, where they found red ruby heels for Fangra's dress, fuzzy boots for Glinda, flats for Bessie, then another, causal pair of heels for Fangra, and flower sandals that Glinda had to have, plus alpaca slippers that made Bessie long for her white robe in the worst way.

Then Fangra needed sparkling underwear for her gold dress, and Glinda wanted earrings, and Bessie still wanted to check out bathing suits. By the time they left the boutique, they had shopped in every section and were carrying out ten bags each. It was a tight squeeze on the magic carpet, but shopping had raised Glinda's spirits, and this ride was much more pleasant than the earlier one. When they got to the house, they ran inside, anxious to examine their spoils. In the living room sat Glondo, a beer in one hand and the remote in the other.

"Dad!" What are you doing here?" Glinda asked.

"I wanted to check up on things. How'd the shopping go? Something just came from Sprite Express."

The girls looked guiltily down at their bags.

"Good," said Glinda.

"Where's Fangra? I want to see Damien's handiwork."

Fangra stepped forward and spun around.

"Holy Hera! You're gorgeous!" Glondo said.

"I know. Damien did a good job, don't you think?"

"A man after my own heart, I have to say."

With that, Glinda's scowl returned.

"You know Fangra," said Glondo, "I've been known to make some beautiful magic of my own, if you catch my drift."

"Everyone catches your drift, Dad," said Glinda. "Could you be more obvious?"

"Hush up little girl," said Fangra. "Let the man pay me a compliment."

"Yeah, pumpkin. I just wanted her to know what an incredibly powerful sorcerer I am," said Glondo, popping his hips subtly. "Sorcery."

"Ew, Dad," said Glinda. "That's it. We're going home."

Glondo shrugged. "See you later, Bessie. Bye bye Fangra," he said, winking at her in an old timey kind of way. Glinda grabbed Glondo's arm and pulled him out the door.

"Come on," said Bessie. "Let's put some of this stuff away before Jerry gets home. That's not a conversation I'm looking forward to."

"Trust me," said Fangra, "after the adventure they're probably having, I'm sure our shopping spree will be the last thing on his mind."
Chapter 7

Roy and Damien had a front row seat to Jerry's stress. Jerry enjoyed pointing out how little time they had left to finish this mission with an even smaller cushion of time left over should anything new spring up before the big day. All the ducks needed to be in a row but so far, to quote Jerry, "We have one duck here, another duck over there... soon, all your ducks are going to be cooked!"

The map Glondo had given them was detailed. There was an entrance to the Water Kingdom from a beach in Coney Island. They'd have to squeeze into a particular rock formation in order to climb down. This path would lead them to an underground lagoon, long forgotten but still guarded by Sirens, who would tempt them to stay rather than continue on their trek.

As they travelled to Coney Island, they passed a group of teenage witches. They giggled as Roy and Damien walked by, but their flirtatious charm had no effect.

"Women are so ugly," commented Damien before the witches were out of earshot.

"I hear you son," said Jerry, "but damned if that ain't the enchantment from Glondo talking. He brought down our libido to practically zero, so maybe we THINK women are disgusting, but they're actually not. At least that's what I'm hoping, because right now when I think of your mother in that robe..." Jerry shuddered.

"All they had to do was bat their lashes at me before and I would melt. I must have been crazy," asked Roy.

"You want to hear crazy?" said Damien. "Glinda's green eyes always had such an effect on me. Other than being a fairy and being able to control me with magic, her eyes all by themselves would make me want to do anything for her, no magic necessary."

"It's a trick," said Jerry. "We should thank Glondo for showing us that. Those eyes are always judging, always manipulating. Women."

Roy remained quiet, deep in thought, brow furrowed as if it bothered him- or as if he had gas, which vampires of either type never really have.

"So if we don't like women anymore, does that mean we're gay?" Damien asked.

Jerry thought about it. "What would one thing have to do with another? Not that there's anything wrong with it, but I fail to see a connection."

"Well, I can't think of Glinda without gagging."

"Our entire libido is down right now. Just because I hate boobs at the moment doesn't mean I love balls. They're both disgusting dangly things that have no place being on the body! I'm going to cut mine off right now!" Jerry pulled down his pants, and Roy threw up black clotted blood at the sight.

Damien shook his father viciously. "That's a really strong enchantment dad...I'd hold off on cutting any balls off if I were you- once this wears off you are going to be PISSED."

"Oh, alright, I suppose," sulked Jerry. He didn't quite believe Damien.

"Hey guys," said Roy between wretches. "Look- we're at the right beach in Coney Island. It looks just like it does on the map. Now we just have to navigate those big rocks over there, and we'll be in the hidden lagoon in no time." It wasn't quite that easy however. Luckily for them their protection enchantment held strong- the winds were especially gusty and the tide was both high and agitated.

Damien looked at the others. "It seems that Poseidon might know we're coming. Everybody stay on your toes. It's bad enough to go on this fool's errand without having the god of the ocean's wrath on us. "

"Yeah, yeah, some wrath," muttered Jerry.

"Don't get cocky, dad. We're only okay because Glondo has some real powerful magic. You'd have been dead if you were dashed against the rocks without being enchanted so well."

Jerry shrugged. "But we are enchanted well. So, let's move. I'm eager to get in and get out. I don't really like the ocean too much. Gives me the creeps. I read Moby Dick, I know what kinds of killer whales they got down there."

"Moby Dick was a sperm whale."

"You know what I mean. Moby was a killer."

"Because he was being hunted."

"Whatever."

They found an opening among the rocks. They each climbed through, Roy first, then Damien, then Jerry. It was black as pitch and only the sound of rushing water could be heard. When they went in, they immediately fell through a watery, steep, rocky slide; after a long fall they wound up falling into an open underground cave lagoon. There were stalactites and stalagmites and sparkling rocks, reflecting small fires placed in a circle around the lagoon. It almost looked as bright as daytime within that cave.

The three frontiersmen observed six sleeping Sirens placed equidistant from each other in a circle around the small body of water that stood between the men and their destination. The Sirens looked nothing like the legends claimed they did.

"You know," observed Damien, "maybe it's Glondo's enchantment screwing with us, but walruses are better looking than these Sirens."

Because of Glondo's spell, the Sirens looked fat and sweaty. Their faces were covered in warts, and their bucked teeth were cracked and yellow.

"How the hell could they have tempted wayward sailors in ancient times?" Jerry asked.

"I'm guessing they were better looking back then," said Roy. "They're supposed to have amazing songs, voices that could en-trance even the most powerful of men. I almost want to wake them up to hear it. Can we? Ooh, can we?" That out of character for Roy. The enchantment hit him hard as a vampire. It scrambled his brains.

"No, no, you idiot," Jerry said. "No. We can't wake them up on purpose to hear them sing. It's bad enough these walruses are ugly and," he sniffed the air, "smell like rotting sea potatoes. We don't need them to hypnotize us to turn back around. Who knows what kind of magic they got going on. They might be stronger than fairies for all we know."

"I know," started Damien. "And they're not..."

"Shut up Damien, I'm speaking over here. Don't contradict me in front of my friends. Roy is my friend."

"Some friend, calling him an idiot and whatnot."

Roy leapt over to Damien and shook him roughly by the collar. "I can fight my own battles you know, you little runt." He then lifted him up by the throat.

"Ack!" Damien squeaked.

"Woah!" Jerry exclaimed. "Easy does it, there buddy pal. Put Damien down...please. We need to calm down and get going. Obviously Glondo's enchantment is kicking the crap out of us. I wished he'd told us it would mess with our brains." Roy, as if shaken from some kind of brainwashing, put Damien down but did not apologize. His dazed look persisted.

Damien's eyes bugged out in surprise as he struggled to catch his breath. They both followed Jerry's lead towards the lagoon, when Damien gasped. He had turned around to get another look at the fat Sirens, and found all six of them to be awake and gyrating sensually. They appeared to be singing, but no sound escaped their poorly formed mouths.

"Some bullcrap is going on," Jerry concluded as they jumped into the lagoon, undeterred.

"That could explain our moods," said Damien, reasoning it out as he spoke. "Maybe it was the Sirens. They were singing their songs to us, and though we couldn't hear them, we still responded somewhat. Inside of getting horny, we were frustrated and pissed. Especially Roy here. Dude, you are really susceptible to magic, man. Or you need anger management."

"Apparently," said Roy, shaking his head. They walked single file over to the lagoon and jumped in. As promised, they could breathe underwater. They followed Damien, who was given the gift of "location", towards the palace of Poseidon.

The map that Glondo gave him helped, but the gift of not being able to get lost also played its part. Jerry and Roy followed Damien, acutely aware they had both somehow come to trust the little runt along the way. How had he proven himself exactly? Was it in how he handled himself with Glondo- having earned the fairy's respect? Or perhaps in his concoctions, in how meticulous and put-together he'd been? Or is it just because the entire mission to retrieve the vampiress was his vision?

Either way, if Damien was feeling the weight of grand emotions of pride or responsibility, he wore it well underwater, where they could all breathe comfortably and amiably without regard for safety. Glondo's spells were strong and stuck to them well, but as Damien warned them, they didn't know how long they had until it could potentially unravel. He kept Glondo's ring in the back of his mind; but it was Plan D, when A and B get flushed down a toilet, and C is begging for death with a gun in its mouth, it's time to dust up the Rolodex and give your old pal D a call.

Walking past Atlantic Ocean debris in slow motion was boring and unamusing; the scenery, flora, and fauna in the underwater Coney Island area was really was nothing special. Just rocks, sand, little ugly fish, and that was it. It might have been some good luck. Rather than be chased by any creatures, natural or unnatural, they were free to simply walk their journey.

"I'd rather be chased by Sirens," Roy complained, after an hour of straight walking in the dark depths.

Damien nodded slightly in reply, but responded, "The less we use whatever magic we have left, the better. The more we'll have on our journey back."

This was the longest conversation they'd had in two hours; they remained silent until a water vortex swirled up. "Exactly where I expected it," Damien grinned proudly. "Through here and into the palace of Poseidon. Remember, do NOT call him Flondo, and be sure we tell him that we killed Hermes. We're retrieving all the ambrosia owed to Glondo from him having been in the Greek pantheon."

The vortex was a beautiful whirlpool of magic, twisting like a tornado on the ocean floor and swallowing up objects and fish that strayed too close.

"That's some crazy water tornado!" shouted Jerry. "Are you sure we're safe? Ain't there no other way of getting to the palace?"

Vehemently, Damien shook his head no. "We've come too far to turn around now. We're not going to wuss out because of cold feet."

"If I let cold feet rule my life I wouldn't have married your mother!"

All three approached the horizon of the vortex and swiftly got pulled into the vertical spiral. A flash of magic marked the barrier between the regular ocean, and the hidden, fortified abode of Poseidon. "This looks like one hell of a secure place," Jerry observed. There were huge mountain-hewn fortresses, spires, and the like.

"Damn I'm dizzy." Damien sank down on the floor.

Jerry drunkenly swayed in the water until he found a rock he could rest his head on. Roy, being a vampire and used to high speeds, passed through the vortex without much nausea. However, he did notice that the others appeared to be spinning. No, not spinning. The entire ocean floor beneath them was turning, creating a tremendous water spout that held them all in place and made it difficult to move. This was centrifugal motion at its finest. It was also high tech security at its finest.

When the ground stopped turning, the crew was facing a black cave at their front and a high-rising iron fence behind them. It was clear they were meant to walk into the black cave.

"It's as black as hell in here," observed Jerry. "Maybe as black as Hades, huh?" He elbowed Damien jokingly, who wasn't amused.

"It's not that funny, Dad. We're being side-tracked. We can't afford to lose too much time. I don't know where this goes, and if I have to use magic to find my way to Poseidon, that's just more magic we're using up."

"So use it up!" Jerry barked. "When I have acutely emergent patients in my office and all I have in stock is chicken blood and peacock feathers, I use my whole supply if I have to! Do what you have to no matter how much magic you need. That's called being a man!"

"Uh oh, your ego's back. That means our sex drives are coming back, which means Glondo's magic is wearing off. We need to get in and then get out quick."

"I was in and out quick with your mother last night, son."

"DAD!!!"

Jerry tittered as they all walked tentatively into the darkness. They walked for about twenty minutes before they saw a light shining. As they approached it, it got brighter and brighter. They could see Poseidon's inner sanctum- a bright underwater palace made out of gold and coral.

"We're headed in the right direction! Poseidon must be close by, inside that compound. Now if only we knew exactly where..." Damien trailed off.

"Kid, don't you have the power of 'location'? Concentrate on him and we'll follow wherever your feet take you," Jerry reprimanded.

"I'm not too sure we can trust that right now, Dad, but I'll give it a shot. Worst case scenario, we're going to need to turn around soon and hope that vortex is still there to take us back to Coney Island. If it doesn't work, the plan is a wash."

As they approached the exit to the cave they heard a loud burbling roar. It shook the rocks and rattled their bones. When they turned to see what made the sound, their collective breath caught in their throats. Before them floated the Kraken, a creature believed to be extinct. It had more tentacles than a squid and an enormously gaping beak that yawned toward them.

It appeared angry and savage, a creature of the deep bent on following its own hunger. Sailors were its food, hardfought morsels after breaking through a ship's tough shell. Here were three sacks of meat for free.

Jerry sought refuge behind a large rock, and Damien direly flipped through the wet pages of a spellbook he brought. Roy simply smiled and swam up to the beast. "Let's see how you taste, big guy." He proceeded to bite the leviathan on one of its great tentacles and sucked out a fair amount of blood before it recoiled and retreated back into its lair, releasing the lost tentacle into the ocean, abandoning it to save its life.

"Mmmm." Roy licked his lips. "I've never had Kraken. That hit the spot though." He turned to Damien. "So where to now, boss? How do we get to Poseidon?"

Damien blinked in amazement. Roy's nonchalance at saving them was almost as astounding as his ability to take down the Kraken. Damien shook his head and looked around.

"Well, he's the king of the ocean. He'll be in the king's palace. My locating power is drawing me that way," and he pointed to the enormous castle ahead of them. "We can draw him out by causing a ruckus. Roy, you must be extra strong now after having been fed by such a large beast. Why don't you slaughter a bunch of fish? I'll yell out, 'Poseidon! Get your pansy ass out here or we're gonna kill more fish!'"

Jerry back-hand slapped his son in the face, but the water lessened the blow to his cheek, if not his ego. "Did you ever imagine yourself dying at the hands of Poseidon? What makes you think that it's a good idea to start pissing him off?"

But Jerry's cautionary message came a little too late. Roy was already killing octopi and sharks; he even crushed crabs underfoot, and on more than one occasion, he broke the seashells covering the tops of some mermaids, adding sexual assault to his list of ocean crimes. It seemed that shame was not common among the merfolk, and they took his assault as more playful than anything.

"Wait wait!" Damien screamed. "Where did all these merfolk come from? Why don't we just ask them where their sovereign leader is? They should know."

"Good idea," Roy said as he pulled the tail of another mermaid while she giggled and said, "Oh you silly two-legs." She had milky white skin, rose red lips and startling red hair. She had silver scales that shimmered sanguine.

"While we have your attention..." Jerry looked her up and down. "And now that you have ours," he chuckled, "Would you mind telling us where we could find Poseidon, lord of the sea?"

She smiled a surprisingly bright smile for someone who couldn't physically brush her teeth in the conventional sense. Merfolk must be born with excellent enamel, Damien surmised. "Actually of course I can! It just so happens that Dad is right behind you. And he doesn't look too happy."

The three explorers turned slowly around. They found someone who looked a bit like Zeus, with the full flowing beard and a halo-like crown, and some scaly-looking body armor and wristlets. He also had a magic ring on his right index finger much like the one Glondo gave Damien. But the thing that startled them the most was the tremendous smile on his face.

With a jovial laugh and a hearty smile he barked, "Why did you kill some of my most rare and precious fish? And then disrobed the mermaids who live here? Including my own daughter? Do you know that such transgressions are punishable by death?" He said that last line with the same tone as if he were offering them some freshly baked cookies.

He clapped Jerry very powerfully on the shoulder and gave an uproarious hardee-har-har. Roy attempted to whisper to Damien, "I think the customs and ways of the merfolk down here are different than on the surface. Here when they laugh and seem happy, I think they're really pissed." He saw everyone in a fit and frenzy of laughter. "This is not good, Damien."

Damien squinted his eyes at Roy. "Why did you do all those things, then, Roy? Dad and I didn't go crazy just because we were given enchantments. You don't know how to keep it together. Especially after that Kraken, you must have been drunk with bloodlust and vitriol, but you need to control yourself, dude. I think that we're all going to die down here in Davy Jones' locker because of you."

"So you know old Davy Jones, do you?" Poseidon said. "I don't like Davy. He steals my thunder, just like my brother Zeus did once a long time ago when we were doling out realms. I drew the sea realm. He drew the sky, but the joke was on him. On them all. After the Olympians disbanded, mine became the greatest and most powerful realm. An impenetrable fortress. Something even you folks from the surface can appreciate. Something greater than even President Zylex's Presidential Palace, which, I hear, you're all invited to in a week. Oh yes. There are many things that are unhidden to me." Poseidon leaned against an upward-facing trident and looked at them all in both good humor and disappointment.

Roy began shivering in the water. "It was my fault, Lord Poseidon. I did it all. I fed on your Kraken because it attacked us, and I think it drove me insane. Then I started killing your fish and molesting your fish-women. Please, I did it in a fit of insanity. Spare my life!"

Damien inserted, "and the lives of his companions! Or maybe just kill him but spare the lives of his companions!"

Poseidon no longer seemed very amused or interested. He seemed genuinely upset. "Alright, don't worry about it. Fish kill and eat other fish all the time, it's no big deal. As for the molestation, what you did doesn't strictly fit the criteria for molestation anyway. Destruction of personal property in the form of clamshells, perhaps. Of course it was wrong, but you're forgiven. You weren't yourself thanks to my pet Kraken."

He released his grip on Jerry's shoulder and tossed him back with the other two. "I know why you're here and have already dispatched guards to go get your ambrosia. This place is like a bank, whatever you put in here is ultimately yours anyway. That ambrosia belongs to Hermes. You're his messengers so it's yours once my guards return with it."

Roy let out a yip of joy. "Oh, thank you merciful Poseidon!" He raised his fists in the water in response to news of his reprieve. Jerry turned to his son. "Why the hell would Glondo have us go on this long, difficult mission, if Poseidon's guards could have just brought the damn ambrosia to us? This was a wild goose chase. For what?" He turned to the lord of the seas. "How did you know we were coming?"

A hefty, bushy eyebrow raised. "My brother and I communicate through a seeing cauldron. He told me everything. Including your plan at the presidential ball. I wish I could give you something useful for the heist, but I really don't think you have to worry. My brother is very powerful, and I have no doubt he'll get you through it without a problem."

Jerry's face turned a very livid red. "We came all the way here for no reason! Poseidon, can we talk to your brother, um, Hermes? Or whatever you said his name is? I've got a bone to pick with him!"

Poseidon grabbed the cauldron and the fluid within shimmered to Glondo. He was in bed, half under the covers, with his arms crossed behind his head. To his right, breathing heavily as if she'd just run a marathon, with wild hair, was the newly beautified Fangra.

He sent us away so he could sleep with Fangra!!!" Jerry shrieked.

"That...that...oo, that makes me so mad!" Roy chimed in, although the tone of his voice was less than convincing. His normal state of cowardice returned. Fangra's delicate skin, moist lips, fire-jeweled violet eyes and sensuous curves were plain to see. In reality, who could blame Glondo for sending them on a wild goose chase?

Glondo appeared to notice them just now. "Oh!" He pulled up the covers above his chest, like any woman more modest than Bessie would. "What, what are you guys doing here? How's the quest for the ambrosia going?"

"You know damn well how it's going, Glondo!" Jerry espied Poseidon eyeing him forcefully. "I mean Hermes. Why the hell did you send us on this mission? You could have just asked us to leave. Poseidon could have messengered the ambrosia to you overnight. I still need to get my tuxedo, and instead of doing that, I'm a mile under the ocean."

Glondo laughed but then got serious. "Look guys, you're almost out of magic. Get the ambrosia and get back here ASAP. We're on schedule to do this thing. Oh and one more thing, before you leave, give Poseidon that ring. It's important."

"Or what?"

"DO IT NOW!!! You don't have much time! I'm in no mood to piss around, Jerry!" The screen went blank.

"Wow. Way to improve his mood there, Fangra."

Damien smirked at Roy.

"Very funny, Damien," barked Jerry. "I don't see why we came here. I feel used." He shook his head.

Poseidon looked on, amused. "So...ambrosia?"

"Yes please," all three responded.

"Okay good, wait right here. Oh, and give me that ring please, Damien. I'll take it as a deposit for the ambrosia. For the record, that's why you came instead of Hermes. To deliver the ring to me. He can't because this isn't his realm. We gods are forbidden to cross one another's realms."

Damien eyed the ring he was given by Glondo. It was simple looking, but in its dark jeweled solitaire stone, there was a deep, throbbing luster. He almost didn't want to give it up, but he felt it weigh his arm down, as if no matter how small it was, it always weighed just a little more than was comfortably bearable.

Slipping it off his finger however, was like a great weight had been lifted off his mind as well. He felt lighter in body, freer in mind, and also, somehow less powerful. "That is some magic ring," he thought. Poseidon took it without a second thought or any look of admiration and left.

"Is it just me or is the air getting thin down here?" Roy asked. "And not just that, the water's getting a little heavy. I mean it's not quite that bad but I do feel a bit smooshed."

"The magic is wearing off. We need to get top-side and quick. Poseidon better have a quick way of getting to the surface from here."

"Or what?" bellowed Poseidon, menacingly. Then Damien remembered that people's expressions were backwards here, meaning that Poseidon was actually not upset, but even jovial perhaps.

He handed them a small metal container, tightly sealed. He then went to Damien and put the ring back in his hand. He whispered to him, "It wants to be with you. You're going to need it, but listen to what my brother said, use it only under the direst of circumstances." He turned to all of them, and clapped them on the shoulder so that they lunged forward. "Go, with my blessings. Thus sayeth Poseidon!"

Then the water funnel vortex popped up again and swooped them back to the cave with the lagoon and the Sirens. The Sirens looked beautiful now, since the enchantments on the threesome were defunct. The nude sirens began singing and dancing and skipping in a circle around them. Jerry looked over at Damien and asked, "What are they doing? Why would they be trying to keep us from going home? I thought Sirens just made you lost so you went the wrong way on a sea voyage, but we're just coming back from a sea voyage."

"Well... Sirens were also known to send sailors to their doom by dashing them against the rocks. Sirens kill people. And we must have pissed them off earlier by royally ignoring them, so they have a score to settle. Because it's a good way to go, right?"

Kraken blood still working through Roy's veins, he grabbed the most beautiful Siren by the throat and demanded, "Get out of our way. NOW!"

Unperturbed, the head Siren kissed Roy on the nose. "You know, we haven't seen men in our company in over a thousand years. Poseidon took us off duty in Greece and brought us here to the New World in a lagoon nobody knows about. Still, Poseidon puts a premium on security. Each lapse is a failure, you know. You just walked right by us, and we didn't stop you. Our sensual chorus has always been our best and only weapon."

"What about female sailors or anyone not turned on by you? How do you stop them?"

"I don't think we should talk to them," Damien said.

The head Siren laughed a sexy laugh. "We take on the form of desire of our beholders. To you, we look like women and sound like women, but we're not. We're androgynous, and amorphous. What you perceive is what you desire." The Siren indeed looked like Roy's optimal woman. She had all the strong features of a Dark Elf or nightwalking vampire- silvery skin, moon-bright eyes, dark hair and lips, and sensuous hard curves.

"Once you go Dark Elf, you never go...bark elf," Roy thought to himself. "Damn this Kraken blood still making me loopy. Loopy doopy. Oopy...!"

"What do you see?" Roy asked Jerry and Damien. "Um. Nothing," they both said in unison. Staring back at them, each Siren was another nude Caroline, the product of Damien's beautifying draught.

"Stay here with us," the leader said with Caroline's dulcet voice. "There's no hurry to go right now is there? There's nothing to do at the moment, really. Surely you can spare a moment with us?"

Damien was about to speak. The pointer finger from his right hand was raised and his eyebrows began to furrow intently, like an alchemy professor about to correct a freshman about silver to gold conversion. He was about to reply that they in fact had somewhere to be and were on a strict time constraint. Their schedule would not allow any detours.

"Don't worry about that silly little heist. You won't miss it. I promise." The head Siren kissed Roy on the lips as the other Sirens worked their own kind of magic on father and son. They caressed their faces, rubbed their shoulders, and got them to completely relax. It was easy to forget their way in the company they were in.

"You know," Jerry said to his Siren, "I always complained about my wife being naked all the time. But right now, in the midst of you crazy witches, I really don't mind it. Do you have any booze or anything? This is starting to feel like a party."

As they began to succumb to the sensuality of the Sirens, Glinda appeared in the midst of them. Her arms were folded and her green eyes were almost homicidal. "What the HELL are you doing?" Glinda barked as Damien made a poor attempt to detangle himself from one of the Carolines. He staggered back awkwardly and fell on his rear.

"Oh, thank you for saving us, Glinda!" Jerry exclaimed, wearing only his headdress.

"Saving you? You're all in trouble except for Roy. He doesn't have anybody to love, so nobody gives a crap about him."

"Believe me, toots," Jerry slowly put his pants back on, "Bessie don't give a crap either."

"We're not done yet! You have no right to take these men. Kidnapper!" the Sirens cried, petitioning for Glinda to leave.

"Silence, witches!" She waved her hand, and the Sirens fell to the floor asleep.

"I'm glad you came, Glinda," Damien said sheepishly "These Sirens would have stopped at nothing to keep us here and thwart our mission."

"Yeah, I bet they _would_ have stopped at nothing. But you know, you can't be tempted by something you don't want. That's the very definition of temptation. So CAROLINE- that's what you want, huh?"

"Everyone has a type, and everyone has a weakness, Glinda," Damien nudged with a twinge of righteous anger.

Glinda put her hands on her hips, and her chest heaved heavily. "Yeah, well, none of these women looks like me even remotely." She dejectedly waved the men to move towards her. "Come on, let's go back." Poof!

They materialized in the living room. Glondo and Fangra were sitting on the couch, and Bessie sat in a chair. Glinda stood as far as possible from Damien as he handed the ambrosia to Glondo.

"So, what do we do?" Jerry asked the gathered group at his home. "What's left to do, besides kill these butterflies in my stomach? What else are we expected to accomplish except wait for our inevitable failure on this impossible mission? Someone tell me why we're doing this again???"

Jerry had begun to hyperventilate. Glondo gave him a common magical remedy to hyperventilation- a big slap to the face. "Existential boredom, monetary recompense, a promise Damien made to Dark Elves, and because I'm making you do it." Glondo ended his monotone monologue with a wry smile. "And as for your next course of action, you, my shaman friend, need a tuxedo. A nice one. So take your bro-friend Roy over to a high end store and buy a good one. I'll tailor it for you magically."

Jerry appeared almost to be pecking, especially with the feathery mantle around his neck. "If you can tailor it with magic, why can't you make one with magic?"

Glondo looked indignant. "I'm not made of magic!"

"Well I'm not made of money!"

"Okay, look. Fangra herself is going to be enchanted, but you are not. You'll be clean as a pair of pressed tuxedo pants and jacket. You need to go to a regular store with a regular tux, because I can't conjure up anything that fancy- I don't have the imagination, okay? So, please, while you and Roy are out, Damien, Glinda and I are going to work on ironing out the finer details of the plan so we can have our walk-through later. The Presidential Ball is tomorrow, Jerry."

Jerry mumbled something about his wife and sulked away.

"You can take Bessie along with you. She's a pain in the ass anyway."

"Hey, that's my wife you're talking about," a subdued Jerry protested weakly, fooling no one. He nodded his head in the direction of the door while looking at Bessie, and then made the same gesture to Roy. Come along, it said. We just may get some ice cream on the way back if you're good.

Roy smiled at the couple on their walk to the clothing store, Monstrosity Fine Suits. "The hell are you laughing at?" Bessie hollered, her pale white arm conspicuously circled around that of her hubby.

Roy kept smiling and wrinkled his nose. "I always thought you two were a cute couple. Deep down underneath all the bitter, sludgy poison, there beat two hearts in step with one another."

"How very friggin' sweet." Jerry kicked a pebble onto the street.

"You're a pair of lovebirds. I'm a sucker for love, so I can tell." Silence overtook the troupe like a long shadow. Jerry and Bessie began idle chit-chat with one another, which was pleasant for once. They were talking about the weather, or politics, or sports- Roy couldn't tell exactly what. He had fallen back a bit in his pace. From some lengths behind the two, he could almost see their energy, magnetized to connect them.

For reasons quite unknown to him, Jerry put his wife's hand in his own as they kept walking, naturally, steadily and smoothly. Roy perceived this with a good-natured expression, but also just a droplet of sadness and longing tinging the mix. He hadn't been in a relationship in a good many years. When you live as long as a vampire does, that's a whole lot of loneliness.

Maybe he'd try dating through the oracle, as some people have resorted to, he thought. One in five relationships now begins at the oracle's temple dating service. And if that didn't work, maybe he could try dating the oracle herself. "I could use the standard vampire thought suggestion, a 'glamor' or 'charm', to convince her to date me." Since vampires of any kind were rare, not many folks would be on the lookout for them or what they were capable of. Daywalking vampires like Roy are far from a dime a dozen. The oracle wouldn't know what hit her...although she might get a premonition about it beforehand.

Alright- strike that off the list of possibilities. Who else could he date? He was a good looking guy, but a bit of a loner, quiet, shy- except when infused with Kraken blood. Ah yes, blood. He also drinks animals, ladies. How can you say no to that?

He felt like a big loser. Even in the context of helping out with the heist, the only material help he could give was his muscle. Not brains, or any other useful, complex ability. Just stupid, unblinking muscle. He'd help bend open the cage of silver around the nocturnal vampire being held captive by President Zylex. But wait! He should also be able to hypnotize people- he'd have to save that thought for later, when he can speak to Glondo, who seemed of late to have taken over the planning and management of the entire operation. Roy liked Glondo, but there were just some things that didn't sit right about him.

It was too coincidental how he just happened to be introduced to the gang just as they were floundering in planning a high-profile robbery, and how he rose to the rank of leader much too quickly. Stranger things have occurred in the course of history- a Gorgon president, for example, but still, it was definitely something to notice.

He took a breath in the sunlight. Anyway. "We're here, lovers. You can break your grip off each others' eyes now." Monstrosity Fine Suits was a large prestigious retail clothing chain billed to fit all body types- humanoid, simian, troll, etc. Jerry was humanoid, as most magical creatures are for some reason, except for his ceremonial feather mane and white and black painted face.

They entered the polished wood establishment and saw a bevy of activity. Monsters, Elves, humanoids- they all shopped here. Tailors were working furiously hemming clothing and using the tools of their trade to make measurements and adjustments in a section right above the sales floor.

They attempted to get the attention of a salesperson but most were zipping about the store, frantically searching for outfits for demanding clients. Roy decided to practice his gift since he could sense it may come in handy in the very near future. Some calibration was required.

As the salespeople whizzed past him, he attempted to make eyes with them so he could try to control their actions. You have to link your eyes up in order to create the necessary connection. "Excuse me, miss--" "Sorry, sir--", "Could I please ask you--" "Hello?" This wasn't working so well just yet. He saw that he needed to be more assertive.

A saleswoman attempted to bolt around him but Roy grabbed her by the shoulders and stared into her eyes. "Now, look! We are in a bit of a rush. We're here looking for a tuxedo for my friend Jerry- he's the one to your right with the feathers. We need something that looks appropriate for a Presidential Ball but not too eye-catching. You'll help us right away, yes?"

She blinked twice. "Yeah I guess so." Therefore Roy's magic trick worked, but it made the target somewhat resentful. They'd do what he demanded, but reluctantly. Eh, whatever works, he thought.

She left them without saying a word and returned overburdened by a bevy of clothing. She had orange tuxes and green tuxes, and even red and purple ones. Orange was the big color this year. The trend-setters in Paris and Milan said so. New York has been cool on that color, but then again they haven't been on the cutting edge of fashion since the humans were around.

Roy huffed. He grabbed the salesperson's face and looked deeply into her eyes. "I said nothing too eye-catching. What's with all the loud colors?"

The saleswoman didn't flinch. "Well, it's not eye-catching to ME! I'm color blind!"

"Oh." Roy lost eye contact for a moment. "Well, go get your manager to pick you out a black tuxedo with a white shirt and cufflinks. And a silver bow-tie. And black shoes. It's very urgent."

She clicked her heels together in frustration. "Fine."

Jerry and Bessie were off to one side. Jerry swung back and forth like a nervous schoolboy. He said to his wife, "You know, I get pretty jealous of you sometimes strutting around in that robe, but it's only because I really care. If I didn't, then I wouldn't get so raw about it."

Bessie, her arms already folded, tightened the belt of her robe. "You know I'm only a little bit of an exhibitionist because it's your attention that I want. I want you to notice me like you notice other women. Like you notice Caroline, or Fangra, or whatever we're calling that troll now. I can't stand to think that she's going to be by your side the whole night during the--you know. And I can't help but feel like you're going to like her more than me. Call me insecure."

"Okay," said Jerry, improvisationally hugging her. "You're insecure. And you're crazy to be. What matters most to me is us. That's it- once this whole thing is over, we're going to rekindle the romance. I'm taking you out to a very fancy, very expensive dinner. With violinists serenading every bite."

"That sounds grand."

The saleswoman returned with exactly the tux that Roy demanded. She handed it to him, smiled and curtsied, and asked, "Will there be anything else, sir?"

Roy smirked. "No, not at all, you may go now." After she left he chuckled. "My power of suggestion works! I guess it takes a while to fully kick in. I never really practiced before."

"Yeah," Jerry observed. "You should let Glondo know about it. I'm sure we can use it tomorrow."

"No!" Roy said. "It'll be our little secret. The ace up my sleeve in case we need it."

Chapter 8

The day before the heist, Roy called everyone together to go over final preparations. Everything seemed ready, but Roy wasn't going to take any chances. Since they really were going through with this, they were going to do it right. He had made a list when they started planning, of everything they would need, from Fangra's clutch to Damien's magical sack. He was a very good note taker. Roy went down the list now, checking off every one only after someone confirmed that it was in place.

"The tickets for the Ball?"

"I have those in my pants pocket," said Jerry.

"Those pants?" asked Roy.

"No dip-crap. My tuxedo pants."

"Alright then. Next, we have the magic bell for Bessie that gives her clothes when she rings it."

"I have that next to Jerry's tuxedo," said Bessie. "Damien's already finished with it."

"Good, good. Ok, how about the monkey?" Everyone looked to Damien, who was scratching his head uncertainly.

"Well?" asked Roy.

"I have the monkey ... I mean, yeah, I got the monkey."

"OK good. Jerry, how are you getting to the Ball tomorrow?"

While Roy and Jerry argued about the travel arrangements, Damien slipped quietly out of the room.

"You can't drive your station wagon."

"Why the hell not? It's an antique."

"It's a piece of junk. Rent a limo."

"But... "

Roy made a note on his list. "Rent. A. Limo." He gave the list a final look. "That's not bad. Everything is ready except for Jerry's ride, but we can get that taken care of in the next few minutes. Good job everyone."

"Not quite," said Damien, who walked back into the room carrying a cage with a dead monkey in it.

"What happened?" asked Roy.

"Well you see ..."

"You forgot to feed it, didn't you?" said Bessie.

"I got it over a month ago as a gift from one of my potion clients. I had other things on my mind!" said Damien.

"This is why you can't have pets!"

Fangra held her nose. "Didn't you smell it?"

"No," Damien admitted. "It was locked in a room in the shed."

Roy clenched his fists. "It might have died from a lack of oxygen. So now we're back to square one, all because you were too lazy to feed the damn thing or give it air."

"I wasn't lazy. Relax, will you? I'll get another monkey, and then you can check it off your list."

"And where are you going to get a monkey this late? I may not know much about the black market, but generally when you really need something right away it's almost impossible to get."

"I was thinking the zoo." Roy stared at Damien. "I'm serious. They have monkeys at the zoo. With a little help," Damien winked at Glinda, "it should be a piece of cake."

Glinda glared back at Damien. "Why don't you take Fangra with you?" she said coolly.

"She's huge. And she'll probably eat the monkey."

"I meant your beautified monster. Caroline."

"How do you propose getting a monkey out of the zoo unnoticed?" asked Roy, attempting to distract Glinda from her frothing anger.

"My sack. Leave it to Glinda and me; we'll get you a monkey before you even finish picking a limo. Okay?"

Damien ran upstairs and grabbed his sack, throwing a few potions and spells in it just in case. He came back into the living room to find Glinda playing with the dead monkey. At least that's what it looked like.

"Woah, what are you doing?" It was fascinating and creepy all at the same time.

"She's got a gift for controlling the dead," said Glondo with a laugh. "Necromancy. Look, the monkey's dancing. It's hysterical. You should have seen her grandmother continue to cook after she died. It was brilliant."

"That's sick," said Fangra.

"Oh please. Glinda, make the monkey disco. Stayin' Alive, maybe?"

"We really should get moving," said Roy.

"Here, we'll take the monkey with us," said Damien. As he closed his hand around the monkey corpse, it went limp. He stuffed the monkey into his sack.

"Why?" asked Glinda.

"With a talent like that, it might just come in handy when faking out the zookeepers." Damien flashed Glinda his most charming smile, but she rolled her eyes and walked out the door. Damien gave a quizzical look at Glondo, but Glondo merely shrugged. Damien grabbed the sack and followed Glinda out the door.

"Hey Glinda, wait up." Damien ran out the front door and across the lawn to catch up with her. "What gives?"

"Nothing. Roy said we should get moving."

"Ok. How are we getting there?"

"Great. You didn't think of that?"

"I was just asking. I've got it, ok. Give me your hand." When Glinda crossed her arms across her chest, Damien grabbed her elbow, and with a small pop, they were standing in front of the zoo.

"I'll go buy the tickets," said Damien.

"We're actually going to pay? I thought we were going to be stealing today."

"Why risk more than we have to?"

"I can get my own ticket," said Glinda.

"Don't worry about it."

"No. I don't want you paying for me."

"Look, I know you're upset, but I can't read your mind. What's your problem?"

"Why do you automatically think the problem is with me? Maybe it's you that's the doofus."

Damien's face turned bright red. "Like that. Stop turning everything I say into something crazy."

"I'm not crazy!"

"You're in freak mode. What did I do to piss you off?"

"I'm not pissed," said Glinda through gritted teeth. "Now buy the tickets already. Two, unless you want to do this alone."

"That might not be such a bad idea," muttered Damien as he walked up to the ticket booth and paid with Jerry's credit card. Glinda was fuming, as Damien walked back to her. He knew she was upset about the Sirens, but that wasn't really his fault. They were Sirens for crying out loud! Bessie wasn't mad at Jerry. So why was Glinda being so hostile? She was the one with the damn boyfriend!

"Here you go." Damien held the tickets out to Glinda. Glinda snatched her ticket, turned on her heel, and stomped up to the dwarf ripping tickets.

"No, that's not going to work," said Damien. He threw his ticket at the dwarf and burst through the gate, catching up to Glinda. He felt like he had been playing catch up with her all day, and he could feel his blood boiling.

"Head's up darling," Damien called after her. "I'm typically a jackass, and I'm sorry as hell for whatever it is you're mad at me about."

Glinda whipped around so quickly that Damien got a face-full of her hair. "Oh, you're not an ass, you're a pig!"

"Huh?" Damien played dumb.

"Oh please. The Sirens. I know what you saw."

"But how could you possibly know? I couldn't see what my dad or Roy saw."

Glinda bristled. "Magic! Duh! The Sirens' spell doesn't work on fairies, but we can still recognize the effects of their magic."

"Well I'm sorry, but their magic does work on me, so I don't think you can blame me for falling for the best security system ever invented. I mean, you of all people should understand how powerful their magic is."

"I'd forgive you that if it wasn't Fangra you thought you were seeing."

Damien glanced over his shoulder as a family of were-goats hurried passed them to get to the Big Cat Den. The looks they gave Glinda and Damien were less than friendly.

"Glinda, can we maybe keep our voices down?" Damien said. "There are kids all around us. No pun intended."

Glinda did not return Damien's smile. She stomped away from Damien and sat on a bench, arms crossed and brow furrowed. Damien gingerly followed her.

"Would you really have been happier if you came onto that lagoon and saw me with a Siren that looked exactly like you?" Damien asked.

"Yes."

Damien burst out laughing, which made Glinda's frown deepen.

"I'm sorry," said Damien, "but I've never been more uncomfortable. You are more beautiful to me than a hundred Carolines."

"I want a real apology."

"For what?"

"For that troll beating me out as your ideal."

"No. I'm not apologizing."

"WHAT?"

"I'm not apologizing for something that's not true. Caroline's not my ideal woman. She's a fantasy, nothing more."

Now Glinda's face turned blood red. As her anger simmered, she pulled out her cell phone and punched the buttons. "Maybe I won't break up with Graham like I intended to. Maybe boring and ugly is better than sexy and spontaneous."

Damien grabbed Glinda by the shoulders, pulled her in close and kissed her. Glinda froze, too shocked to pull away or kiss back. To be honest, she rather enjoyed the passionate exchange. Damien gently let go of her shoulders and pulled away.

"You feel free to hit me for that," he told her, catching his breath.

Glinda grabbed his face hard and kissed him again. When she finally let go, she smiled and whispered in his ear, "It's about time."

"Are you serious?" Damien asked. Glinda looked coyly at him. "Is that all it took? I told you already that you're ranked number one in my book."

Glinda's face became very serious again.

"Even if Caroline's still your number one looks-wise."

"You're more than that. Imagine Caroline as a painting or a sculpture."

"What?"

"That's an idealized but imperfect body, not the perfect girl. You're the perfect girl, with looks and brains and a sense of humor."

"Yeah, yeah." The Siren thing still bugged her.

Damien's eyes flickered as the ultimate equalizer crossed his mind. "Alright," he said. "If you can swear to me that if you were susceptible to Siren magic, you would see me, then I certainly owe you a very big apology. It's easy to throw stones when you're impervious to Siren magic. If you're honest and you tell me there's a chance you'd see someone else, then I think you're the one that owes me the apology."

Confusion then panic then guilt flickered briefly through Glinda's eyes before she let out a forced laugh. "That's a moot point. Sirens don't work on me, so we'll never know. But I do get your point. And I am breaking up with Graham."

"As for the monkey, can you magically transport it from the cage into your hands?"

"Nope," said Glinda. "The cages are protected against those types of spells. Those signs are all over the zoo. The only way to get the monkey out is for you to physically remove it from. Security is more lax when it comes to non-magical means. Besides, it's a zoo, not Fort Knox."

Damien walked over to the plain old regular monkeys, as he called them. They were either bonobos or chimps; he hadn't paid much attention in biology class. The cage was broken into two sections, connected by a small square passage at the bottom. All five monkeys were on the right side of the cage: three perched in the artificial trees, one sitting in the food dispenser, and one hanging from a jungle gym. Damien made a quick sweep around the Emporium, but it was still deserted.

"Anyone comes, you'll let me know, right?" he asked.

"I can do one better," she replied.

Glinda flicked her wrist subtly, and a periwinkle bubble appeared over each camera.

"What did you do?" he asked.

"It's called a hypothetical. It's basically a spell that covers what we are really doing with images of what we should be doing. The security tapes will show us merely browsing and goofing off. The problem is, it only lasts twenty minutes."

Damien slung the bag off his shoulder and rifled through it. He picked out a little black pouch, put the bag back on his back, and hopped over the gate meant to block off sightseers. Damien pulled a small portion of what looked like black sand from the pouch into his palm. Slowly, he blew the dust over the two middle bars of the cage. The bars vibrated slightly and then stood still. Damien put the pouch in his pocket. Then, taking a deep breath, he grabbed the middle bars. He pulled them apart, and like a rubber band, the bars bent to let Damien pass into the cage, snapping back into place when Damien released his grip on them.

The monkeys had watched Damien's progress silently, but as soon as he entered the cage his luck ran out. They stared him down, shrieking and screeching as he made his way towards them. Damien tried to subdue them, but the sound was piercing. The monkeys screeched louder and louder, blocking out the sound of the other patrons entering the Emporium.

Glinda saw a family of gremlins running towards the commotion out of the corner of her eye and she yelled at Damien; her warning gave him about seven seconds to get out of sight. The fake trees were too high, the drinking pond was too shallow, and the spells and potions Damien could use took more than 5 seconds to take effect. In a mad dash, Damien rushed into the small passage connecting the two halves of the cage. He barely fit, but with some strategic squeezing, he was able to hide himself from view while the gremlins looked on.

Damien felt sweat trickle down his brow. The minutes slowly ticked by. By his internal clock, he judged that they only had ten minutes left until the hypothetical wore off. What was the gremlin family watching? The monkeys had stopped shrieking and sat dumb and motionless for their new audience. Finally Glinda whispered that the coast was clear, and Damien crawled back into the cage.

"Any suggestions on how to get one down?" asked Damien. The closest monkey was at least 15 feet above his head, and it didn't appear eager to investigate the new guest in its cage.

Damien let out a sigh and moved to his last resort. He pulled out the dead monkey from his sack, which happened to be a female.

"Glinda, reanimate the monkey so that it lures the other monkeys down here."

"That's asking for a lot," said Glinda. "It's been dead a long time and it stinks. I have to run a hypothetical on it, too."

"We're running out of time. Just do it."

Glinda worked her magic, and the dead monkey performed a mating dance. One particularly amorous monkey took the bait; he jumped down from the trees and made his way towards Damien and the dead female. Damien remained perfectly still as the monkey approached. When it was close enough to kick, Damien threw his sack over the monkey's head until the monkey disappeared within the magic folds of the bag.

"Brilliant," said Damien. He tied up the sack and headed for the edge of the cage. Then his bag jumped. It jumped again. The movement was small, but it would be enough to draw the attention of everyone in the zoo. Damien tossed the bag down and watched it squirm on the floor.

"What the hell?" said Damien. "The sack's enchanted."

"Against size," said Glinda. "I guess it doesn't protect against movement."

"Damn it."

Damien untied the sack and reached into it, careful to keep his other hand on the opening, lest the monkey escape.

"What are you looking for?" asked Graham.

"I've got a sleeping draught in here somewhere, but the stupid bag is practically bottomless."

"Damien," said Glinda.

"What?"

"You may want to hurry up."

"Are we running out of time on the cameras?"

"No. The other monkeys aren't interested in the girl anymore, but they do seem to be interested in you."

Damien looked up, and four pairs of angry eyes were glaring down at him. Suddenly he let out a yelp and snatched his hand out of the bag.

"What happened?" said Glinda.

"The bastard bit me."

"Did you get the potion?"

Sure enough, Damien clutched the sleeping draught in his bloody hand. While the monkeys above his head started to screech and pound their chests, Damien opened the sack just enough to pour in a few drops from the potion. Slowly the bag settled down until the monkey stopped moving altogether. Damien jammed the vial into his pocket, snatched up the bag, and headed for the enchanted bars. The sudden movement startled the monkeys. They descended from the trees and rushed at the half-wizard.

Damien dashed through the bars, but the monkeys were on his heels. One was already jumping through the bars when Damien blew the magic dust on it for a second time. The bars snapped back into place, trapping the monkey in mid-jump. His head and shoulders hung out of the cage while his butt remained inside. The monkeys blinked in surprise. Damien showered them with what was left of the sleeping draught. It took effect in seconds, and he was able to enchant the bars again to shove the monkey back inside the cage. He fixed the bars for the last time and hopped back over the fence to where Glinda was waiting.

"Oh my Oberon! How's your hand?" she said.

"Fine. The bleeding's slowing down. How long on the cameras?"

"Three or four minutes."

"Then we better get out of here."

Damien shoved his hands in his pockets, and they headed out of the Emporium. Glinda pulled Damien along the path.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"You need to wash that hand," said Glinda.

"No, I need to get out of the zoo. Can't you just heal it with fairy goodness?"

"I'm afraid I'm not my father, dude."

"It's alright," said Damien. "Besides, it'll give my dad something to do. He's a highly paid shaman, you know."

They walked on and on past some security trolls. As soon as he passed through the gate, Damien began to breathe freely again. As soon as they were in the clear, Damien poofed them back to his house.

"Relax," said Damien to the gathered masses. "I have the monkey."

Damien pulled out the sleeping monkey and placed him on the coffee table.

"What happened to your hand?" said Roy. His eye fixed immediately on the blood, and while he was an animal eater, he still found himself oddly tempted. Maybe it was because Damien was half were-cow.

"Oh my goodness!" said Bessie, in hysterics at the sight of blood. "You're bleeding all over my carpet."

"Relax Mom," said Damien. "The stupid monkey bit me, but Glinda can patch me up in no time with some bandages and rubbing alcoho."

"Not in my house!" cried Jerry.

"What the hell? Why not?"

"This is what I do, and I can heal you better than any other magic. Shamanism is the best kind of curing magic."

"I've seen your work Dad. I'd rather let Glinda take this one-"

"Shut up and give me your hand kiddo."

Jerry meticulously cleaned the wound, rubbing balms that would ease the pain and speed up the healing. By the time night fell, the bite was no more than a discolored scar on Damien's hand.

Glondo insisted that everyone stay under one roof that night, much to the chagrin of Jerry, who moped as he set up extra mattresses and blankets in the living room.

"Haven't had a sleep-over in 40 years," he muttered. "Not long enough."

There was a glass of champagne waiting for all and a requisite rousing toast from the Faerie Knight himself. "We worked hard to get to this point, guys. We prepared, we organized, we planned. And as of tomorrow night, we are all going to be very rich. The execution should be seamless now, and we know what we have to do. I'm going to recap the plan to all of you later so that it stays fresh, but for now, drink up, eat up, and get a good night's rest!" He added quietly, "I'm waking you all up at 5am to go over our final checklist and play-by-play."

Mead was drunk, ambrosia was eaten, but in small doses. Ambrosia is far from plentiful, and does not get replenished. It is a waning asset, a rare gem. They would all eat of it in order to give them greater protection from magic, and so that it'd be easier for Glondo to interact with them directly, past the White House's magic defenses.

There was also regular champagne, sans magic- a drink which did not become extinct with the humans who previously grew the grapes and manufactured the product. Such artwork in a bottle. Creatures large and small loved the sparkling wine which tickled the nostrils as playfully as it tickled and dulled the senses.

Let them have their fun tonight, Glondo thought with a smile. And, before they were too drunk, he wanted to reach out and touch their spirits with a rousing speech. A speech for a football movie, maybe. Tomorrow would be rough and they needed mental preparation. There's no potion for that, unless you count a bravery potion, but that has well known irritable bowel side effects.

"Tomorrow we embark on a delicate journey we have practiced and prepared for, for quite some time. We've all done something for this mission, and we all have an important part to play. There's no going back. We do this for our financial future, for the Dark Elves, for Vampires, for humans, and hell, because it's something to do. We all have had to make ourselves...adapt since the humans went away, and truth be told, life has certainly lost its thrill. Climbing out of the shadows and into the limelight, on the whole, has been awful. We've lived the day-to-day mundane lives that the humans did after inheriting the earth, and you know what? It's time for something better. I'm tired, and I know you are too. It is time to recover what we have lost from too much appeasement to the establishment.

"We get fat and lose our nature. We simply fall asleep in the face of tomorrow instead of seizing the day. We're fatted calves that might as well be ready for slaughter. Sheeps, like the humans were, shepherded into pens. We belonged in the shadows; we belonged in our own realm. We're playing house here on Earth where we, against our firmest desires, found a home. A true home. Now we belong here, but it's got to be a world of our making, not where we follow blindly those that have seized power. This heist is as much for us as it is for Xandra, as much for our futures as it is for the thickness of our wallets. Rest well tonight...(you have no choice)...and tomorrow, accept the greatest parts of yourselves."

They then proceeded to revel in relaxation and pleasure. Bessie and Jerry found a room- their own, since they rekindled their love from the last few dying embers.

Glinda and Damien flirted and cuddled watching a magical translucent fire burning, under the happy scrutiny of Glondo. That is until Glondo's attention was turned to Caroline, whose blouse somehow became undone and drenched in mead.

As the night wore on, Roy sighed deeply and sipped his fresh cat's blood, watching the others coupling with one another. He longed for the love of another, but his desire was taking the shape of a particular ex-girlfriend who was no good for him. Adriana. She was a fellow daywalking vampiress. They'd been deeply in love years ago, but it later came out that she was pure evil. This was his own narrative about her, but the reality was that she cheated on him with a Goblin prince. The what of what happened stung him, but the who devastated him. Roy was a touch racist.

She'd had blue sapphire eyes, jet black hair, and the same silky, milky white anemic pallor as him. She broke his living heart. He chose never to love again. It was too messy. He decided to go to bed early.

Glondo, seeing the party winding down, everyone drunk or asleep, sprinkled some fairy dust on everybody. He cast a spell that the sleep they were having would be the most restful and recuperative sleep of their lives. "They'll be ready," he said aloud. Then, he zonked himself out with the same sprinkle.

Chapter 9

"WAKE UUUUP!" Glondo yelped. It was mid-afternoon. Glondo fairy dust was a bit of overkill on top of the drinking, and they had all overslept. It was now three hours before the ball, not nearly enough prep time. They'd planned on having the entire day to review plans and blueprints. Fairies are so powerful because they possess an ability to make spells and enchantments stronger. This is why Damien needed Glinda's toenails for the spell-strengthening potion. It's not always easy to calibrate, even for an ancient fairy from the realm of Oberon. Usually gradations of effectiveness are not necessary, however when they are, fairies tend to overshoot.

Despite the setback, they all awoke refreshed and raring to go. They all knew the plan inside and out, so they weren't thrown completely off track. There was, however, less time to get everything together. Glondo scrambled through another checklist, and he ran by it point by point. The first point was Fangra- he directed Bessie and Glinda to apply the beautifying potion in the enhanced form of a balm to her in an adjacent room.

She'd reverted back to a disgusting troll overnight, perhaps even more disgusting than before. The three women went into the other room and looked at one another. Fangra giggled a husky laugh at them and removed her clothing, without shame.

"Try not to miss any spots, ladies. Remember to cover the warts and pustules first."

Once the horror of it was over, Glinda and Bessie exited the room shivering with their heads down. Fangra- that is, Caroline - was right behind them in her beautiful new dress. The top was low-cut, which was perfect for distracting the male (and some of the female) attendees. There was enough spillage to entice, but not enough to reveal. Should it be needed, Caroline could cause an effective diversion.

"Okay," said Glondo. "We have Caroline, check. We'll apply the strengthening lotion to her everyone once we've done a once-over of the checklist. Jerry, you got your tuxedo on already, that's good, so second thing on checklist is checked off. Now, Bessie- here we have a cage you'll be able to get out of easily in human form. We have a magic bell that Damien enchanted. Once you change from were-cow to human, you just shake your head to ring the bell and that will give you clothes. Now, take your clothes off and get into the cage."

"With gusto!" she yelled, starting to remove her clothing, and then looked at Jerry. He smiled back at her. "Ah, go ahead you crazy naked nut." Damien, Glondo and Glinda averted their eyes. Roy, however, always the curious one, found a comfortable vantage point for the naked show.

With customary cattiness, Fangra laughed at Bessie. You can take the Caroline out of Fangra, but you can't take the Fangra out of Caroline. "Damn, Bess, you're pretty ugly for a cow."

"But I'm not a cow yet!" Bessie protested at the faux beauty's mean-ness.

"If you say so," Caroline smirked.

"Hush hush now!" Glondo barked. "Please, Bessie, turn into a cow, and let's get that out of the way. Next order of business is the magic satchel for Damien. Damien, go get everything you'll need to pack- a backup pair of silver cutters, the refrigerated blood, the monkey, the amulets and potions, the map, et cetera." Damien collected everything together as he was asked. "And this," Glondo said, giving him his magic ring. Damien had given it back after the trip to Poseidon's palace. It only seemed right. And now it was being gifted back. "Don't use it, ever, under any circumstances, no matter how dire. Unless you have to." He smiled and handed it off.

They waited patiently for Damien to pack everything into the satchel. While he loaded everything carefully into his bag, Glondo showed Jerry some improvements he made on the tuxedo. "I've added some built-in assistance. The cufflinks are smoke screens, made of silver on the outside. Made of silver, it won't be detected by the Secret Service when you enter."

For the first time, Jerry noticed blackish blue shimmer on his jacket. "Is this magic?" he asked Glondo.

"No, it's just a shiny fabric. Don't worry, I will cast an enchantment of protection over every one of you. You won't be without help, Jerry. Next order of business- apply your lotions, Roy and Damien. Really rub it in there."

Jerry paced the floor as his son and Roy were in the other rooms. "Why do they have different potions? Why is Damien invisible and Roy 'undetectable'? Or whatever. Why can't they have the same potion and be done with it?"

"If they were both invisible, they wouldn't be able to coordinate with one another because they couldn't rightly see one another. If they were both undetectable, then again, you have the same problem. Roy shouldn't be so undetectable that Damien can't pick him up, since he's very in tune with magic and he's got a little psychic gift going on. Leaving us with a perfect situation."

Damien and Roy came back into the living room, glistening. "How come we can still see them?" Jerry was irate. "It didn't work!"

"It worked!" Glondo retorted. "It's a slow burn. These particular potions are slow-acting. By the time you get to the White House, they'll be invisible and undetectable. Now I'm going to add the strengthening potion to these three. We call it a potion, but really it's mostly fairy dust." He blew it onto them several times over.

Glinda looked on with pride at the culmination of all their plans. "I'll go fill some pots and pans with water, and set up our magical remote command center."

When Glinda returned the living room with the pots, she looked for Damien to wish him luck before he left. "Damien's invisible now already?"

"Yup, looks like," said Glondo. "I have no idea what happened to the other one...whatever his name is."

Glinda looked at Caroline. "Holy CRAP! You're TOO beautiful." Glinda blushed uncomfortably as she stared at Caroline's perfect figure. She hadn't been so effusive the day they went shopping.

Bessie began ramming into the cage trying to get at Caroline. Glondo put himself in a different room and averted his glance. He poofed a large cloak over Caroline to hide her until he could send them off properly. Jerry reentered the room. "I had to go to the bathroom, heists give me the craps. Did I miss anything? Wait, what's that smell?"

He noticed Caroline and was strongly repulsed by an anti-libido stench, cast by Glondo to restrain everyone. He dabbed a lot of gunk under Jerry's nose. "That's to keep you normal during the heist. Caroline's a little too pretty after the fairy toenail mixture.

"Pleh, disgusting. Where's Damien?" Jerry asked, but he was hushed by Glondo.

"Listen."

In a low but audible voice, Damien stated, "Here I am. Looks like the spell is working."

Jerry threw Glondo a very severe look of fright. "His voice is so low. Are you sure the spell isn't also too strong?"

"I'm not sure, Jerry, if I'm to be honest. This might be as invisible as he gets, or he might get worse, which, I don't even know what that means for us. I've taken inventory of everything and everyone. In five minutes, I'm transporting everyone in the party to the White House receiving line. I just want to give you and Bessie these instructions, since I already told Damien earlier."

He showed them a map of the layout. "Here is where I'm poofing you to, on the lawn just out back. You need to come right back to that same rendezvous point, the 'X' on the map, once you have Xandra, and I can poof you back here from there. The White House has a lot of magic defenses like transportation jamming, so this is the closest I can get you. Understand?" Jerry nodded, shifting his ceremonial feathery headpiece. Bessie also nodded, ringing her bell and giving her cow clothes.

"Dammit, don't ring the bell, Bessie!" Glondo poofed the clothes to the couch. He took out a screwdriver and made an adjustment to the bell. "There, it'll make it harder to ring, so the Service doesn't get suspicious when they see a cow with blue jeans!"

He counted items on a list. He wrote a few notes and nodded to Glinda. "Are you ready?" She nodded back, at the helm of the cauldrons, with spell books and tomes at her disposal.

He looked at Jerry and Bessie. "Are you ready?" They gave solemn looks of assent.

"Then let's zap you guys on out of here before I forget Rob's name. Rob? Rich? I'm already starting to ignore him or her. Crap. Well, away you all go!" POOF!

They arrived at their rendezvous point, and Jerry and Caroline wheeled the cow cage into the line to the President's Ball. The line was short for now. It was very early and the most important guests would arrive fashionably late. Caroline was still covered in her cloak for fear of causing a riot on line. No need to jeopardize their mission before it had begun.

They played it cool, but the grandeur of the White House and the full line of the magical defenses was overwhelming. There were wizard snipers patrolling the roof, Elf Knights leading squadrons of special agents, and droves upon droves of Goblin Secret Service agents looking busy. The Goblin Secret Service agents were decked out in middle-ages armor, some in chain mail and some in armor plates. They looked very much like Dwarves except for their green skin, almost all of them wielding axes.

As they arrived to the front of the line, Jerry gave his name to the goblins at the door. "Gerald Vijay and guest, please. And this is a gift that has been in our family for a while. A stately cow for the President."

The goblins checked his name off the list. "Sorry Jerry, standard procedure, we need to pat you both down."

"Oh my!" Caroline said. They quickly were patted down and a magic detector was waved over them. They came out clean. The cow also came out clean.

"We're going to have to confiscate the bell, however, Mr. Vijay," said the Goblin. "We've detected trace amounts of magic on it. It's probably that it was near something magical and picked it up, but rules are rules." The goblin agent called over two more goblins and asked them to wheel the cow into the menagerie. "The President is going to like this." The goblin wheelers looked amazed to see a cow in their presence.

"I've heard their milk is delicious," one of them said, observing Bessie's dangling udders swaying as the cage rolled over ground. "More delicious than unicorn steaks."

Jerry and Caroline's hands were stamped with smiley faces. "Welcome to the White House. Enjoy the President's Ball!"

Just beyond the security guards there was the coat check counter. Jerry tried to avoid eye contact, but despite his best efforts it was not possible.

"Excuse me," the fawn behind the counter called out, "would the lady like to check her cloak?"

Fangra was already fumbling with the clasp. Jerry growled a quick, "The lady's fine," at the fawn while grabbing Fangra's arm and leading her to the atrium where cocktail hour was being held.

"You want me to keep this stupid cloak on all night?" said Fangra. "What was the point of getting beautiful then?"

"It's too soon for you to cause any distractions. Besides, if you check your cloak then I'd have to leave a tip."

"I'm at least putting the hood down."

Before Jerry could stop her, Fangra threw back the hood of her cloak. Her body may have still been covered, but the face Damien created was too beautiful to be ignored by anyone.

Men and women were stealing glances in Fangra's direction. And this was just her face. Jerry imagined the chaos when the cloak eventually came off and everyone saw the dress glued to Caroline's curves.

"I need a drink," said Jerry.

"Wait for one of the waiters to bring a glass of champagne around," said Fangra.

"I hate champagne. Those bubbles always get stuck in my nose. I need the bar."

Jerry grabbed Fangra's cloak and pulled her to the bar, where he ordered a double scotch. The bartender gave Fangra a cosmopolitan, even though she never opened her mouth. He ogled her as she thanked him and took a sip. Jerry rolled his eyes. This was going to get old really fast.

"Come on Darling, let's go find some grub."

"I'm not eating," said Fangra. "I could spill food, or something could get stuck on my teeth, or I could smear my lipstick."

"Oh shut up. You don't have to eat. You just have to stay next to me. I'll try my best not to dribble all over you like the rest of these idiots."

As much as Fangra didn't want to eat, even she had to admit the food was impressive. There was a champagne fountain in the center of the atrium that would shift colors as the alcohol cascaded down. There was a dwarf chef sautéing meats upon request.

There was a station with twelve different types of pasta. But Jerry was drawn to the Mashed Potato Bar. An entire wall was dedicated to mashed potatoes – parmesan, garlic roasted, Cajun, potato-stuffed-frogs. Jerry piled his plate high, and when he turned back around Fangra was off flirting with a troglodyte. Not to be sideswiped by a lizard like that, Jerry weaseled his way in between them.

"So, what are we talking about?" Jerry interrupted.

The scaly creature said, "Caroline was just telling me about your wife."

"She's beautiful. Just like my date. So beat it."

"I'll refill your drink," said the lizard. He took Fangra's drink and walked to the bar.

"You're an ass," said Fangra.

"Well why'd you tell him I have a wife?"

"I didn't want him to think we were together."

"We are together tonight! Let's remember, we're not here for you to hobnob like a movie star, okay. No more flirting. Eat, drink, and stay under the radar."

Fangra rolled her eyes and sauntered off to the next guy offering libations. Jerry drained his scotch. He hoped Bessie was having more luck than he was.

Chapter 10

They took her bell. All their precious preparations, and the damn goblins took her bell. Considering that cows were an endangered species nowadays, Bessie had expected top-rate guards, not two slimy goblins staring at her through the bars like she was a meal instead of a present. She wanted to curl up in a ball and put as much distance between herself and her carriers as possible, but as a cow, she couldn't do more than just stand there. She did glare at them, and she caught the goblins doing a double take once or twice, as if they didn't believe that a cow could glare.

They came to the end of the hallway. One goblin typed a code on the keypad locking the door. Bessie looked, but the goblin stood in her way so she couldn't see the code. Which didn't matter because even if she had the code, she had no way of telling Damien or the other one, so they were on their own. The door beeped, and the goblin swung it open.

Bessie was wheeled into the menagerie, and she could see that this was going to be more complicated than they had originally thought. Even with the blueprints Glondo had managed to get his hands on, nothing could have prepared her for the vast size of the animal keep.

It looked like something between a prison and a zoo. The only advantage was that there were no guards past the door they had just entered. All the creatures were tightly secured, but once these goblins left, Bessie could search for Xandra more or less in peace. The goblins brought the cage to a stop. Bessie was wheeled against the wall, where the goblins chained her cage between two giant fish tanks, one with an octopus, the other containing a mermaid.

What the hell did the President need all these creatures for, and more importantly, what was he doing with them there all at once? Bessie didn't have time to give it a second thought, because the goblins were unlocking her cage, which was never part of the plan. They were snickering to themselves, and Bessie listened closely.

"You try it first," said the one.

"No, it was your idea," said the other.

"What if she attacks?"

"Cows aren't vicious. And besides, getting milked does the animal a favor. They say they need to be milked daily, or else they get backed up."

Oh hell no. No stinky goblins were going to touch her, especially not in the President's private menagerie with all those other onlookers. Sure, cow milk was a delicacy now, but Bessie never expected the goblins to simply help themselves. Which they did, a little too roughly. The first goblin grabbed two of Bessie's udders. She groaned and mooed in protest.

Ooooowwwwwww. _He's trying to rip my udders off_ , she thought. The goblin yanked and pulled, but the delicate art of milking was lost on him. Bessie stamped and puffed, hoping he'd go away. Instead he pulled harder, and Bessie smacked him with her snout. Her bosoms were going to smart when she turned back into a human.

The other goblin pushed the first out of the way and grabbed Bessie. It still wasn't good, but at least this one was better than the first. He succeeded in producing milk, but Bessie, who usually enjoyed being milked, squealed with discomfort in the hands of an amateur. Not that the goblins noticed. They sipped the milk. It was warmer than they expected, but it was good.

Once the milk flowed, it was almost pleasant. Then the trick shots began; they tried squirting the milk into each other's mouths. Bessie was just weighing the risks of kicking them when their pagers buzzed. They enjoyed one more gulp each. Then locking the cage up, they scooted out of the menagerie, digesting the sweet milk they had never tasted before and never would again. As they left, she wished them both lactose intolerance.

Bessie was pissed. If the heist didn't depend on her keeping a cool head, she would have transformed right there and kicked them both in the groinsacks. Or maybe as a cow it would hurt more.

Bessie changed back into a human. Her breasts were red and sore. She was uncomfortable enough without her clothes, but now her boobs needed some ice. If only they hadn't taken her bell, but Bessie was more comfortable with her naked body than most. She didn't relish the thought of being caught by one of the President's minions in her birthday suit, but if she was caught, her nakedness was the least of her problems.

She toughed it out, and slipped out of the cage with ease. The mermaid stared at her. Bessie slipped around the corner. All she had to do was find the heart of the menagerie. She cut straight to the center, passing all sorts of magical creatures, some that had long since been rumored extinct. The twists and turns of the cages were maze-like. Even with Glondo's blueprint in her mind, Bessie had to focus all her concentration on not getting lost. One more turn, and she should be there.

Bessie rounded the last corner, and suspended eight feet in front of her was Princess Xandra in a sterling cage. They really didn't want anyone or anything to get to her. Bessie could see the pain in Xandra's eyes, and she remembered what Glondo said about silver burning the skin of vampires.

It was nothing like the sun; it wouldn't kill her, but it would hurt like hell in a consistently awful way. The guards had attached silver chains to her neck and her wrists. Xandra's mouth was gnarled as she focused on the pain. Slowly her eyes came into focus and locked on Bessie. As Xandra eyed her up and down, Bessie saw something else settle in Xandra's eyes: hunger. She needed the vials of blood. She needed her son's supply, and quick.

Where the hell was Damien?

***

_Where the hell am I?_ thought Damien. He had completely lost his way in the mansion, but it wasn't entirely his fault. Damien felt weird right now. After he took the potion at his house, he felt completely normal. He could hear his parents wonder what happened to him, and he knew the potion was working too strongly, especially with Glondo's slow release effect. He spoke up, but he couldn't hear his own voice. That meant that others couldn't hear his voice either. His words echoed in his head, but his ears heard nothing. Damien had shrugged this off at first. It could be a side effect of combining Glondo's magic with his own. As long as he could get in and out undetected, that was all that mattered.

Damien stuck close by his group as everyone headed for the transporting site. He started to feel a little light headed, but with a rush Glondo shot them to the rendezvous point right behind the mansion. Damien nervously checked his body. All parts of him had traveled with him, but he felt too light, too insubstantial. He felt like he was floating instead of walking. He worried about getting past the guards at the gate. He watched as Jerry and Fangra presented cow-Bessie, and all three went inside. Maybe he could slip around the magic detectors, but in all likelihood he'd bump a guard. More guests starting forming a queue down the red carpet, so Damien leaned against the wall to get out of the way. Damien felt himself fall on his back. He was staring up at a ceiling with what looked like a fresco painted on it. He wasn't sure. He had never paid attention in Art class.

Damien sat up with a start and looked around. He was inside the mansion. He had passed through the exterior wall, and now he was lying on the floor of foyer. Guests milled about him, some even stepped on him, and yet their feet seemed to go right through him. Nobody noticed or felt him. He was glad he made it inside undetected, but incorporeal was not going to work. Luckily he had tied his sack to his belt loop, so it didn't go right through him, but he wasn't sure how affected it was by the potion. There was a very good chance that until the potion wore off, the things inside the sack were as useless as he was. Or as soon as they left the satchel they would pass through his hand and he wouldn't be able to pick them back up. Either way, there was no way he was touching the satchel until he found someone who could actually grasp the contents.

He had to find ... what was his name again? Damien racked his brain, but he couldn't remember. The guy was a vampire, and he was a friend of his dad's. Crap, if the invisibility potion made Damien a ghost, Roy's potion had to be all out of whack too. So much for meeting up with that guy. It seemed impossible given the state of their magic, but there was no way Damien was giving up. He'd find Xandra, and hopefully by then the potion would start to wear off.

By this time Bessie had already been taken to the menagerie, and Damien hadn't fallen inside soon enough to see where she had been taken. The ballroom was straight ahead, so he went down the hallway on the right. He walked through the first locked door. According to Glondo's blueprints, it should lead to the menagerie. Damien looked around at the chefs and the waiters. He should have taken a closer look at the blueprints. Maybe he should have gone left, not right. Screw it. If he could walk through walls, Damien was going to walk in a straight line up and down the mansion until he found his mother and Xandra. How long could that possibly take?

***

Glondo looked into the separate reflecting pools he had set up and shook his head nervously.

"Too much of that strengthening potion. You can never get it right. Too little and it barely works, too much and it's too effective. And there's no standard equation for it. You can never truly figure out how much you need."

"That's why most spellcasters, wizards, and Fairies try to avoid using it, Dad. I don't know why we used it this time. Even if we're up against the strongest magic around, I don't think it's worth it. Well, you're the expert," Glinda stated in an obvious tone of apprehension as she searched fervently through her own reflecting pools.

"I can't find him. Mister R. I still don't remember his name. It would have been hard enough to find him even if the strengthening potion were tuned just right, but..."

Glondo waved his hand at her roughly. It wasn't magic, but it shut her up. "Forget him for now; he's a lost cause. We need both of them to work this heist. Take over the surveillance while I go get my tools."

Glinda peered down into the water and watched Bessie approach Xandra.

Bessie spoke to Xandra in calm, soothing tones. She whispered, "I'm Damien's mother. I'm here to help rescue you."

Xandra appeared less hypnotized by Bessie's sharkish urge to frenzy. "Why are you naked? And why are your boobs all sore?"

Bessie laughed and swatted away the question. "It's a long story. I'm a were-cow. That's how I got into the menagerie. The goblins that moved me in here decided they wanted to try milk, since it's now almost a thing of legend. So, they milked the crap out of me." She rubbed her sore nipples. "At least they seemed to like it. That's quite the compliment. From my perspective, why go through all that trouble if it's not going to be enjoyed by someone, am I right?"

Her job wasn't to entertain Xandra, and her subject of conversation was making Xandra weary. Bessie was no conversationalist, and stalling for time was a skill she did not possess well. "Um, do you want to try some?"

Xandra turned her feverish head to her. "Try what?" Her eyes were now closed.

"Some milk?"

It took a lot of personal strength for Xandra not to wretch and regurgitate the ancient curdled blood that was sustaining her. "If you're going to help me, help me. If you're going to kill me, kill me, but please, never, ever again offer me your stupid milk."

She focused on Bessie's throbbing carotid artery, since her neck was inclined towards her. "I will take your blood though. All of your blood." Her eyes glazed over again, and she looked like a fiendish, starving wild animal. She began to scream and shake her chains violently. Bessie thought the silver cage might not hold. Although Xandra was weakened, she was still among the strongest creatures.

This movement caused a big commotion in the normally quiet menagerie. All the other animals were either muzzled or placid in nature. Goblin guards outside the menagerie ran in to see what was the matter, but all they found was Xandra, now calm in her cage. "It's probably nothing. The catch is probably just hungry. Picky eater, won't drink anyone's blood around here. On a hunger strike or something. Fan out and look around and meet back here in two minutes," the leader told the other two guards.

As the first guard turned a corner, he saw a white spotted cow standing alone.

"Here's what must have spooked the vampire. Somehow that cow got out of its cage." The other goblins came to see. They saw her udders dangling, glistening in the fluorescent light. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Sarge?"

Bessie opened her eyes in horror. "Oh no, not again!" she thought. "And not so soon!" They went to work tugging, and got the hang of it quicker than the others. They still weren't gentle, but the learning curve was steeper, and for that, Bessie was thankful.

"Well, I think we've had our fill. And this cow must be dry at this point. Let's walk her back to her cage," the leader told the others.

"Uh oh," said Glinda, watching from afar. "They're going to see the cage is still locked and call for backup. I can't open it from here, but maybe I can guide Bessie on what to do about it."

As they dragged the reluctant cow to the cage, Bessie transformed back to her human form, guided by Glinda's mind. She was still as strong as the strongest cow in her human form. And she was as fast as four cows. She kicked all three Goblins in the groin so they couldn't verbalize an alarm. She kicked one in the head, knocking them all out. She dragged them to the cow cage and stuffed them in. They could fit through the bars, but it was the best she could do given the circumstances.

Glinda breathed a sigh of relief as Bessie walked back to Xandra. Glinda searched the water for any signs of Damien, but she couldn't see him.

Damien had been learning how to navigate the place as a wraith. His momentum threw him through walls he didn't want to go, but if he stopped, he would fall through the ground. So he had to learn to "ghost-skate", as he would later call it. Since he'd helped draw up the blueprints, he had most of the layout memorized. He eventually found Xandra and ran around the room in a circle in order to stay there without going through the walls or the floor.

Glinda caught sight of him in the menagerie, as it was the first time he more or less stayed in one place. She called out to her father. "Okay we have Damien and Bessie in the menagerie. Damien's still intangible, but I finally have a lock on his magic. The viewing is scheduled to be less than a half hour away."

Glondo came back with a few small gadgets. "Has the sun gone down yet in Washington?"

"Yes, it's completely dark."

Glondo smiled. He held what looked like a toy clock and a miniature toy White House and put them together. He put a glass shard between them. He then shot magic out of his hands and into it, which caused the clock and the White House to glow. He pushed the clock's time forward five hours and then waited.

"OK, now five hours of actual time have passed. You'll notice your watch says 1am on it, but in the White House, it'll feel to them like only five minutes passed. The potions should be partially wearing off now, so they should be tuned perfectly. Damien should be able to speak with Xandra. If you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go upstairs for more supplies. Keep me posted."

Glinda communicated mentally with Bessie, Damien and Xandra. She led them to understand what had happened.

"Where's Roy?" Damien asked, reaching into his magic sack to retrieve a set of backup clothes for Bessie as he looked the other way.

"I don't know," Bessie said. Just then, Roy arrived in a blur.

"Hi guys. I'm back," Roy said. Bessie squinted as she struggled to concentrate on Roy. "I was in a weird netherworld of limbo for a little bit. I couldn't move. I couldn't do anything. Anyway, try to focus on me being here." He waved his hand in front of Damien's face. "I know the enchantment still stands. Don't ignore me. Hey. HEY!"

Damien acknowledged him. "Yeah, yeah, one second. Go grab the cage, but don't pull the bars open yet. I'm just taking out the pints of blood we need to feed Xandra." Damien looked over to her. Her cold grey eyes tracked his movements. Since five hours had passed, she was five hours hungrier and barely holding on to any semblance of normalcy.

Damien turned to Roy. "You're going to have to help me give this to her once you open the cage." Roy nodded solemnly. He put his hands on the cage and waited for the signal. Then his eyes locked onto Xandra's. They were full, deep, ancient, and priceless. He was immediately drawn to her and the power residing within her. She, on the other hand, didn't even notice him. He hoped it was because of his potion and her hunger.

"...Two...Three...NOW!" Roy bent the bars open, flew up to Xandra in a blur, and unclasped her chains. Then, quicker than the human eye could see, he took two pints of blood from Damien and fed them to Xandra. She drained them both and two more were waiting. She'd gone through ten pints of blood before relenting.

"Ahhh," she said, wiping her mouth. "Thank you. That blood was old, but it was still good."

Bessie, who'd been hiding behind Roy, was now looking into the magic sack for the monkey they brought aboard. She found it. "Come help me bend the bars back onto this monkey, Roy. Roy?" Roy had left in a flash a moment ago. "Where the hell is he off to?"

Glinda searched her pots for Roy. Fangra, that is, Caroline, was nowhere to be seen either. Jerry was stuck talking to a rich ogre countess. "This is why nobility is always so boring. We must content ourselves with vile pleasures far beneath our bearing in order to appear to connect with the common folk."

Jerry, sporting his expensive tuxedo but also his ceremonial feather headdress and makeup, stared vacuously back at her. "Yeah, I don't know if you can notice, but I'm a common folk."

To the right of the greenish purple ogre, who wore a non-prescription monocle, was a Senator from New Jersey, in the throes of a loving passionate embrace with Fangra, that is, Caroline. It wasn't easy, but Jerry managed to yank her off of him, and just in the nick of time, it appeared. The good senator ran to the bathroom to wash off his pants. "What is wrong with you, Fa--Caroline? You're supposed to be inconspicuous. Not conspicuous! Who here hasn't had their tongue in your mouth?"

"Definitely not that hideous ogre," she said of the countess.

Jerry said in a loud whisper, "She's prettier than you used to be!" Caroline fixed her top to be more flattering. "You're using this as an excuse to have fun. This is work, dammit. Act like you're with me!"

Caroline's newly purple eyes lighted with fire. "Okay! You want me to act like your date, fine, I will!" She landed such a powerful kiss on his lips, he almost thought he was being attacked by a Kraken's tentacles.

The ogre countess fanned herself amusedly. She was thoroughly entertained by this fare. "Common folk do the darndest things."

At that moment, the waiters took away the appetizers and salad. "Crap," Glinda muttered. "Dad! Where are you? They're about to serve the main course, I need you to coordinate this!" No reply from upstairs.

Glinda turned to the other reflecting pools. "Need to find Roy." She searched some rooms, but the White House menagerie was very big. Then there was always the chance that Roy was elsewhere since he could travel quickly. Glinda kept looking in the other pools, all the while communicating to Bessie and Damien to follow Xandra's lead. Her sense of smell was keen.

They chained the monkey into the suspended cage and Damien quickly transformed it to look exactly like Xandra. Understanding their time constrictions, Damien paused. "Wait, we need some insurance. We need a backup plan to escape. Mom, transform back into a cow and stay here." He quietly filled her in on what he was thinking, and then he left, following Xandra's nose.

In the dining hall, Caroline had begun chatting up someone new, an Elf congressman from Delaware. He seemed particularly interested, since to all eyes she too was an Elf of high bearing. Jerry played with the salad he'd told the waiter to keep on the table.

The Vice President, an Elf as well, began to speak via microphone. "Esteemed guests, I'm told the President is finishing up on some business right now, so I will be introducing the main event of tonight's gala dinner. As you prepare to feast on the first course, a delicacy which should remind you of the former struggles of magical creatures, I ask you to remember all of your blessings: that we live freely, out in the open, uninhibited by humans. This is what makes America great and what makes this new world of ours great.

"The shadows no longer conceal us, and we can live in the light again. Because of a momentous curse, cast by the famous witch Morgana, all humans on Earth were transformed into Blue Toads. This spell circumvented Merlin's enchantment, that no magic can directly harm humans, but this doesn't prevent us from boiling them up and turning them to soup as toads when they're no longer human."

Just then, the waiters served the main course of Blue Toad Soup. Jerry looked down at his bowl. His toad was looking back at him. "That's what's in Blue Toad Soup? Humans?" he mumbled. Caroline was at first base, and the congressman was about to steal second.

"As a result of the human diaspora back into the swamps, other creatures that relied on humans began to disappear as well. Cows. Chickens. Vampires. Everyone thought nightwalking vampires were extinct for over a decade, but President Zylex, on a safari expedition, single-handedly apprehended a princess while hunting in an enchanted forest. For your entertainment, pleasure, and, for your eyes only- I am proud to present to you, the Vampiress, Princess Xandra!"

Two Goblin guards wheeled the cage into view, after having unhinged it from the ceiling. They hadn't seen their other Goblin compatriots in the former cow cage.

Everyone in the dining hall held their collective breath. The vampire looked so real that Jerry and Caroline thought their team had failed. She was pale and thin with gray eyes and jet black hair. Then people began taking out their mobile phones. Innovation and technology stopped with the humans, frozen in time. The room lit up with the flashes of cameras. At first, "Xandra" just blinked at everyone while holding onto the silver bars.

"Hey, doesn't silver hurt vampires?" Caroline's congressman asked.

Caroline kissed him deeply with tongue. "Xandra" went from startled blinking to jumping up and down and screeching, showing to the audience her oversized canines, followed by showing her rump. This intrigued the audience even more, and prompted more picture-taking, thus more flashes.

At that point, the monkey formerly known as Xandra pooped into her hand and threw it at those watching her. The Vice President was facially struck during the fecal attack. In the back of the menagerie, Bessie saw this event as her signal to begin mooing and stomping and awakening the sleeping animals.

There were elephants and dogs and cats and chickens, and they were all stampeding. Polar bears did not make the cut to be in the menagerie of rarities, since the absence of man immediately caused them to multiply and breed. This humanless effect caused a population explosion across the board for many species- roaches and other insects to name a few.

The release of all the wild animals caused a major panic in the dining hall. The ban on magic within the White House had caused an unintended consequence- problems that could easily be fixed by magic couldn't be fixed quite so easily.

Damien and Xandra were on the heels of Roy. Xandra told Damien to ride on her back, since he'd never be able to keep up with her otherwise. She was faster than any creature Damien had ever known, even faster than Roy. In nearly a moment, they were in one of the President's private offices. They saw Roy with his hands around President Zylex's throat. Zylex, normally gray in color, was a haggard purple-gray. Roy's eyes were boring into his- he was trying to use the vampire "charm" to mesmerize him.

"Where is she? Where is Morgana?" Roy asked. He was shaking the large Gorgon violently.

At that moment, Glinda, observing from a reflecting pool, ran to her father. Glondo was controlling Roy from afar, and Glinda shook her father the same way Roy'd been shaking the President. She pleaded with him, "If they don't get out now, like, right now, they're going to get killed! There are a lot of guards on the way. Just take a mind-grab now, and look at it later, please!" A mind-grab was a snapshot, or more accurately, a screenshot of a person's mind. It could only capture summary-level information, but it was better than nothing.

Roy reached at Zylex and made a grabbing motion at his forehead. When he removed his hand, he held a crumpled piece of paper. He released the President, who fell back into his desk chair, unconscious. "Let's go," Roy commanded.

"Wait," Damien said as they were about to depart. He took a bottle of Scotch whiskey that was sitting on the office desk and splashed copious amounts of the liquid onto the President and near his mouth. He sat the President up and hunched him over the desk as if he were playing Seven Up. Head's down, thumbs up, fingers surrounding the Scotch glass.

"Now, let's go!"

He rode again on Xandra's back and Roy, who had come back to himself, gaped open-mouthed at how much faster she was than him. He smiled in awe.

They headed to the dining hall, where Bessie and Caroline were pulling at each other's hair and Jerry was in the middle of them, getting scratched.

"To hell with this," Jerry said. Then he punched Caroline in the jaw.

The Goblins that were put in the cow cage earlier groggily walked into the dining hall and saw the melee`. Bessie shook with anger and pointed. "Those are the guys that milked me!"

Jerry turned to them, infuriated. He took out his ceremonial healing staff and bopped them all either across the face or in the head. Jerry was surprisingly good in combat. Finishing his last move, he uttered, "Nobody milks my wife but me!"

Seeing droves of new guards and agents, including magic-wielders, they all hopped onto a vampire's back. Damien and Caroline went on Xandra's back, and Jerry and Bessie on Roy's back. The vampires were on autopilot, being led by Glinda and Glondo. They ran towards the rendezvous point on the White House Lawn in lickety-split time. They were pursued fervently, since they appeared to be stealing the prized vampire of the evening. Xandra arrived to the rendezvous point first.

"Now Dad, transport them," Glinda barked.

"I can't, they have to be together and Roy's not there yet." Roy was almost there, when he ran into a giant Cyclops wielding a club the size of an oak tree. Giant creatures look slow and oafish, but they have long legs and can travel quicker than people think. It stood directly between Roy and the rendezvous point. Roy tried punching it, but it simply laughed. Its main strength was, well, strength. Roy was infuriated by the Cyclops' laughter. He climbed up to the Cyclops' face with his quick speed and stared deeply into the monster's eyes, giving him a quick suggestion with his newfound power. Then he ran down and grabbed Bessie and Jerry, leaving the Cyclops to beat itself with the club.

They were all together on the White House Lawn, waiting to be transported.

"Come on Dad, now, do it now!"

"I can't!" Glondo replied. "Something's jamming my magic." As a matter of fact, spellcasters, wizards, witches, and High Elves had them all encircled in a magic bubble. The bubble kept out Glondo's influence. Try as he might, even Glondo could not break through. Glinda put her power into the mix. This caused a tug of war between the White House guards on one side and Glondo and Glinda on the other.

"Damien!" Glondo yelled. "Use the ring I gave you. Use it now!"

"The one you told me never to use?" Damien asked.

"Yes, that one. It's good for one last feat. Then its power is spent."

Damien activated the ring by clinking a conjurer stone against it. It immediately broke the bubble, and they were transported tout suite straight back to Jerry's house.

Chapter 11

With a thud, everyone landed in Jerry's yard. Glinda threw her arms around Damien. Glondo, who was at his house, fluttered outside and quickly ushered them inside Jerry's. As soon as they were inside, Damien spoke up.

"What I'd like to know," he said quietly, "is why Roy was trying to kill Zylex when that was never part of the plan."

Every eye turned to Roy, even Xandra's piercing eyes. Roy was glad he couldn't blush unless he had just fed, otherwise he would be beet red now.

"You did what?" said Jerry. "Do you have crap for brains? You could have killed us all. You played with time you didn't have."

"I don't know what happened," said Roy. "I saw myself doing it, but I couldn't stop myself. I couldn't control myself."

"How is that possible?" asked Bessie.

"We don't have time for this," said Glondo. "The Secret Service knows Jerry, and they know that he was involved. They know where he lives, and it won't take them long to get here. We need to move."

"Where do we go?" asked Glinda. "Back to our house?"

"No. You can bet they'll have detected my magic when I helped with the escape. We have to assume they've identified us all, so none of our homes is safe."

"Mine is," said Xandra.

"Your father won't approve," said Glondo.

"You saved me. I can't just let you get captured for it."

Just then, Fangra exploded back into a troll, bursting right out of her gold dress. As Jerry tried not to hurl and Damien snapped his eyes shut, Glinda restored Fangra's sweater and skirt with a wave of her wand.

"Well, this sucks," said Fangra glumly.

"We should leave," said Xandra. "My home is far, and I can't carry everyone and a troll, so we'll have to walk.

"Can we use magic to get there?" Glinda asked.

"No," said Xandra, "but we can use it to get closer."

Glondo pulled out his wand and told them to huddle together. He told Xandra to visualize the place where she would like them to land. As Xandra concentrated, Glondo produced a purple cloud of smoke from his wand. The smoke engulfed Xandra's head. Slowly it passed into one ear until it disappeared completely. After a few seconds, it reemerged from her other ear. The smoke was now green and black as it circled around all of them. It grew thicker and thicker until they could see nothing around them but the smoke. When it was at its thickest, it pressed on each of them, making it hard to breathe. Slowly the smoke retracted. As it dissipated, they could see the world around them was plush and green. Jerry's living room had vanished; they now stood in a clearing in the forest.

"Xandra," said Glondo. "Lead the way."

She nodded and set off into the trees. Roy fell into step next to her, unable to keep his eyes off her. Every movement she made was breathtaking. Behind them came Jerry and Bessie, walking hand in hand. Next came Fangra, who had never been light on her feet but after her escapade as Caroline she thundered through the forest with an extra heavy foot. Glinda and Damien followed Fangra, and Glondo took up the rear. Damien briefly disengaged himself from Glinda and held back to walk with Glondo.

"So, why did you want him dead?" Damien asked.

"Who?" said Glondo.

"Zylex."

"I don't want him dead."

"If Roy is telling the truth, and I'm pretty sure he is, there is a very short list of people who would be able to control him like that. Plus you were pretty eager to change the subject back there, so I'm guessing it was you."

"You're not guessing. You're inferring."

"Correctly, right?"

"Fine. It was me, but not because I want him dead. I wanted information."

Damien processed this for a minute. "Information about what?"

"Let's wait until we're with Xandra's people. Then I'll answer all your questions."

Xandra led them farther into the forest, which was getting denser and darker with each step they took. There was no clear path to follow. Without her, they would be lost in the shadows stretching from the trees. They passed an hour in silence. Suddenly, they felt the air change, and it was now that Xandra warned them of what they could expect.

"My father protected our realm so that only those who belong to it can reach it. You're with me, so you should be safe, but you need to do what I tell you to do exactly as I say. If you don't, you won't need to wait for Zylex's men to kill you. You'll be dead from the enchantment."

Xandra led them through the trees and into another clearing. The moonlight danced upon the lake that sparkled in front of them. Xandra indicated for Roy to help her. They waded into the water until it came to their waists. Xandra bent her torso into the water, and Roy followed. They came up pulling a rope, and slowly they towed a waterlogged boat out of the lake. When they reached the shore, Xandra overturned the boat to empty it.

"We need to make weight belts," Xandra said.

"Are we going into the lake?" Bessie asked nervously.

"Eventually. In the middle of the lake there is an underwater cave that leads to the forest of the Dark Elves. We'll take the boat across the surface, then make a straight dive down to the mouth of the cave."

"Can we all fit in the boat?" Damien asked. It didn't look big enough for all of them, especially not with Fangra. Caroline, definitely.

"The fairies can fly above us. The boat's big. We'll be fine. It's getting to the bottom of it that's tricky. It's a long way down."

"Can't Glondo give us breathing contraptions with his magic?" Jerry asked.

"The lake is guarded against magic. Otherwise countless enemies would find my home. Magic will kill you faster than drowning here."

"I'm glad we cleared that up," Jerry grumbled.

There were six canvas sacks tied to the boat, which were given to Xandra, Bessie, Glinda, Fangra, Glondo, and Damien for weight belts. They filled them with rocks from the forest. Roy used Jerry's tuxedo jacket to make a makeshift weight belt, and Damien filled his satchel with rocks. They loaded into the boat, and though they had to lean towards the front to balance out Fangra, they all fit. Xandra and Roy paddled the boat with speed, and before long they were in the middle of the lake.

Glondo and Glinda hovered low above the boat and pulled out their weights. They slowly dipped into the water, resting one hand onto the boat to stay afloat. One by one they climbed out of the boat. Fangra tumbled over the edge with a giant splash. Xandra was the last to remain with the boat. She pulled a drain plug before leaping over the edge, so that the boat would again sink to the bottom of the lake once they reached their destination. Xandra gave them the signal to breathe deep before disappearing beneath the surface.

Glinda fell the fastest. While the others struggled to reach the bottom, Glinda struggled not to pass Xandra. After a couple of minutes, Damien felt his chest start to burn, but now the top of the lake looked as far away as the bottom, so he tried to take his mind off of breathing by focusing on Glinda's bare legs kicking in front of him. Damien should have felt badly, given that Glinda had no idea they'd been doing any of this when she put on a dress this morning. Still, it kept him from breathing a deep lung full of water. Her legs were a sight for sore lungs.

Glondo was too busy worrying about his own discomfort to notice anything else. Without his magic, he had no advantage. Not only could he not breathe, but his physique made the swim horrific. His wings didn't help him underwater, and if his daughter wasn't so far ahead, he'd considering ditching the Dark Elves and finding a different hiding place. Such thoughts were unfitting for such a powerful fairy, and with a grunt Glondo redoubled his effort. All light from the top of the lake had faded, and they were thrown into pitchy darkness. Roy and Glondo's eyes were strong enough to make out Xandra's form swimming deeper into the lake. Everyone else hoped that Xandra was still heading straight down. Just when the darkness seemed eeriest, a pale light gleamed ahead. Glass lanterns chained to the lake floor shone forth a white light. The cave loomed before them.

Xandra dropped her weight belt, and the others followed her lead. They swam into the cave. The inside of the cave was completely underwater. Jerry's head was spinning. Fangra was on her last leg, and still Xandra went farther into the cave. Despite their desperation, they lagged behind her. Roy didn't feel the effects of the oxygen loss as the others did, and he pushed, pulled, and prodded them behind Xandra. He helped them swim to the back of the cave, where there was a tunnel leading straight up. Xandra propelled off the ground and shot upwards. The others followed, and just as Bessie thought of dying they broke the surface of the water.

They were still in the cave, and a rocky surface encircled the water from the lake. Bessie clung to a rock as she struggled to breathe. Jerry pushed wet feathers from his forehead, spitting water and mucus all about. Glondo flew out of the water, shaking the moisture from his wings as he made his way to the rocks. Glinda also threw herself out of the water, collapsing on the stone floor. Damien emerged right behind her. He took just enough time to pull Glinda's skirt down over her thighs before crumbling beside her. Roy and Xandra were tasked with pulling Fangra out of the water. She didn't take the trip well, and when the vampires finally managed to get her out, it was clear that someone needed to perform mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

"Does anyone know CPR?" Roy asked.

Xandra and Glinda shook their heads. Jerry kept his eyes glued to the ceiling.

"Jerry does," said Bessie.

"No I don't," said Jerry vehemently. "I really don't."

"But you're a doctor," said Roy.

"A shaman. Not the same thing."

"I know you know how."

"I'm not putting my lips on that."

"She'll die."

"For frig's sake," said Damien. He clambered over to where Fangra lay like a beached whale. He pulled her mouth open; he cringed for a second upon smelling her breath. He took a deep breath and put his lips to Fangra's mouth. Everyone watched with a mixture of admiration, panic, and horror. Damien had to use all his weight when pressing Fangra's chest. He brought his mouth to hers ten times, but still she didn't stir.

"Come on bitch," Damien said. He threw his fist down with all his might on Fanrga's chest, and with a jolt she coughed the water in her lungs all over Damien.

"Great. We need to move," said Xandra. "We're not safe until we're in the forest."

"Can I get a second to breathe, please?" Fangra sputtered.

"Five minutes. No more."

While the others recuperated, Roy paced the perimeter of the water. Not needing much oxygen, the plunge didn't take a toll on Roy the way it taxed the others. As he came to the cave wall, he saw Xandra leaning against the rock staring at him.

"Can I help you?" he said.

"Nice job getting the troll out of the water," Xandra said coyly.

"Well, I had some help with that."

"You know, you're pretty strong. For a Daywalker, that is," Xandra added. Roy probably should have felt self-conscious next to Xandra, whose speed and strength dwarfed his own, but he was in awe of her completely. He smiled at the dig; he was too enthralled with her attention to worry if there was any condescension in her compliment.

"Do you really feed on living humans?" Roy asked.

"Yes."

"And it really makes that much of a difference?"

"You can see the difference. It's the difference between what you are and what you can be. Power. Strength and speed. It's right there at your fingertips."

"You're acting like it's my choice." He sulked.

"Don't get insulted. It's not a bad thing, the way you are. It's endearing." She met his eye for a brief second before looking over the group. "They should be ready to move now." She rallied the group for the last leg of the journey. They had to make their way out of the cave. The floor was slippery and uneven.

Xandra and Roy were surefooted. Glinda and Glondo flew above the perils but the rest of them bruised and bled as they made their way along. Jerry's curses echoed off the caverns above them, and if Glondo wasn't in earshot, Damien would have joined right in. Just as Fangra belly-flopped on a smooth rock for the third time, Xandra came to a stop in front of the cave's wall.

"Great. What do you expect us to do, go through the rock?" Jerry said.

"Yes," said Xandra.

"Fantastic. Then we can fly over the rainbow and down the rabbit hole, following the second star to the right until we come to your kingdom, cause I'm thinking it's not nearby at all"

"Come on Jerry," said Roy. "Give it a rest."

"Well, how the hell are we supposed to get through solid rock?"

"For that, you need me," said Xandra. "If you would stop running your mouth for two seconds, I could show you how'll we'll get through." She smiled eerily.

"Ok. Dazzle me."

Xandra sank her fangs into her own wrist. She let the blood spill until the floor was covered. She placed her red palm on the wall and smeared it about. Slowly a doorway appeared; the doorway opened out to the forest, where in the distance stood the Elf King's palace.

"Glondo, you go first," said Xandra. "The doorway only lets one person through at a time, so I have to open it for each of you individually."

"Why does Glondo get to be first?" Jerry asked.

"Because I'm fairly certain he won't be killed on sight."

"Fair enough. Best of luck my fat friend."

Glondo flew forward, and as soon as he passed through, the doorway vanished. Xandra opened the doorway for each of them, sending through Glinda next, then Damien, Jerry, Bessie, Fangra, and Roy last. By the time Xandra had joined them on the other side, the king's guards had them surrounded, with spears and arrows pointed at each of their heads. Xandra rushed forward.

"Lower your weapons," she said. "I brought them here."

"You know the law. Your father - "

"Will understand. They saved my life. Let me take them before my father for their reward."

The captain hesitated for a fraction of a second before signaling for his men to lower their weapons. "You may bring them to your father," the captain said, "but we will escort you to the palace."

Xandra caught Roy's eye and smirked. "Whatever you say Captain."

They trudged towards the palace, flanked in the front and the rear by the Elf King's guards. Xandra kept her voice low, even though she knew they could hear her. "Let me do the talking," she whispered. "My father is kind, but he doesn't like surprises, or guests, so he won't be happy about having you here physically. Our kingdom is so hidden for a reason." The branches of the trees folded in upon themselves to create a natural canopy leading from the cave to the palace.

The palace was hewn from white rock, so that in both the sun and star light, it sparkled as a beacon for the entire kingdom. After a brief word with the Captain, the elves guarding the gate let the company pass into the palace. The inside was dark and cold. The guards led them zigzagging through the hallways. They tumbled into the throne room suddenly where, staring down at them from his throne, was Meribad, King of the Dark Elves.

Meribad was a white-bearded patriarch. He had a small iron crown, a purple hooded robe, and leather armor on his torso. A sword was sheathed at his side. Next to Meribad sat Foad, High Lord Vampire, Xandra's father. His throne was as large as Meribad's, but it stood off to the right. One look at the throne room spoke volumes to the power dynamic, but even Fangra could see that Foad was in a position of great respect, second only to Meribad. Foad's eyes were sharper, keener, grayer, and less kind than Meribad's. He had a short, cropped black beard and was adorned completely in black leather. He was dressed like Xandra and his hands were tightly folded.

Meribad broke the short silence that was beginning to echo. "Welcome, guests. You're friends of Xandra, and so you are friends of ours as well. Your journey has been long. You may have a lot of questions."

"And complaints!" Fangra barked, rubbing the sore parts of her body.

Meribad continued without a beat and motioned to the man next to him. "This is Foad, Xandra's father." Roy made a mental note to shake his hand and get on his good side. It worked for Damien, after all.

"We are glad to see that you upheld the promise made by the half-wizard Damien to bring one of ours back to us. Before we go any further, I want to say congratulations and thank you on accomplishing your mission and bringing Princess Xandra back home." His tone was even, matter-of-fact, not effusive at all. Foad however seemed downright angry.

Roy's curiosity melted his caution away. "Where's 'home'? Where are we?"

Meribad smiled kindly. Foad stared unblinking at Roy.

"Some call it 'Meribad's Enclave'," said Meribad. "Some call it 'The Forest of the Dark Elves.' It's a stronghold, a safe haven, or at least it was." He looked at Foad, who chose to ignore the look.

"Merlin was fond of humans. He protected them as much as he could, and he foiled Morgana's attempts to gain power over them and rule them outright. He cast a very powerful protection spell. There was however, a fatal loophole, which Morgana exploited. All humans on Earth were transformed into Blue Toads, except for the ones residing in this place, since an even stronger enchantment exists here than the one cast by the witch. We've protected the humans that live here, and they have always been held in high esteem alongside Elves and Vampires."

Roy looked over to the right of Foad's throne. There was another throne of the same size, but it was empty. "I'm sorry to pry, but I think there's an obvious question to be asked. If this place is so safe, how was Xan-- Princess Xandra, caught by enemies?"

Nearly as soon as the question was asked, Foad ran in a blink towards Roy and held him up by the throat. "Because she thinks that after a few centuries that she knows everything. She got caught because she was reckless. Just like you apparently. How dare you, a Daywalking VEGETARIAN vampire, question the sentiment of a powerful king you only just met?"

Glondo casually walked up to Foad and tapped him on the shoulder. "The King may be powerful, but I'm more powerful. And, I'm more powerful than you, I might add. I'm a Faerie High Knight of Oberon, who, at the end of the day, is your king as well. Let go of Roy, and respect everyone in my group. After all, they are reason your daughter is safe. You are in our debt. I hope I need not remind you again"

Foad sized Glondo up and down. Small, fat, with bumblebee wings, but he could sense the magic that resided within him. It certainly was greater than his own, and greater than Meribad's. Foad let go of Roy.

In an attempt to avoid discussion on what was owed the group of strangers, Meribad said, "We all have an understanding in this place. Humans provide the Vampires food, and the Vampires provide them with protection. Vampires provide Elves with their loyalty, and we stay here together and live in relative security. Vampires sometimes take on chores and activities for the good of our haven. Xandra was part of an advanced scouting party, which strayed too far from our protection. It was there, away from the enchantment, that she was vulnerable."

Glondo rolled his eyes. "Cut the bullcrap, Meribad. Why was she part of an advanced scouting party in the first place? Is scouting past your borders a common activity in this Enclave? Tell me the truth."

Meribad looked away. "No."

"Then tell me. Why was she there?"

Foad walked back to his throne and sat down. Roy was still nursing his throat, but he healed quickly and the pain was already numbing.

"We sensed a gathering magic around us. Some kind of magical attack was going on- poking and prodding, testing our defenses. We wanted to make sure our borders were secure, so we sent advanced scouts. Princess Xandra led a short expedition to our southern border, which had always been the least secure."

"Was it secure?" Glondo asked, playing the lawyer. He turned to Xandra. "Were you kidnapped within the borders of the Enclave, or outside?"

Xandra looked at her father and Meribad. "I thought I was within our circle of protection. I don't remember ever stepping outside. I led my group, and I was fifty feet in front of anyone else. All at once, something happened to me where I couldn't move at all. And then I felt a silver net cast on me, and then I think I must have passed out from the pain, which is something I didn't think vampires did."

Glondo rubbed his chin. "So your Southern border is not secure then. At all."

Meribad insisted. "It is secure. Xandra was outside when she was taken. She lost track of her location."

Xandra found her voice. "No, I didn't! I was inside the borders! You can ask anyone in the scouting party."

Foad laughed. "That's impossible. And foolish. There is no one out there who would want to tangle with us. We could repel any attack from any army."

"If an attack was levied, of course, but it wasn't," said Meribad. "The magic hacking attempt was over soon after Xandra was kidnapped. Whoever was prodding must not have been looking for us. They must have just been sending out 'feelers' and seeing what was ahead of them. Finding Xandra, they retrieved what to them was a prize."

Foad sneered.

"You're not telling me the truth," Glondo insisted. "You're in more trouble than you're letting on. Tell me."

"How dare you raise such accusations at me! You are my guests, and this is my kingdom." Meribad took out a wand and waved it. A clear glass container appeared in their midst. "100 pints of human blood. It's fresh, and it'll stay fresh for a hundred years. Please take it and leave. We thank you for your service to the Dark Elves, Vampires and Humans."

Jerry walked towards the glass container and said, "Well, that's all I needed to hear. This could fetch over a million bucks!"

Damien decided to chime into this argument. He had matched his wits with a Knight of Oberon. How daunting could an Elf King be? "You don't trust us. You're in trouble, and you don't trust friends who have proven themselves in both skill and courage? Our small group took on the entire magic element of the White House and won. That's not just praiseworthy; it's unbelievable. You need us on your side."

Meribad began to pant with rage. "We are fine. We can protect ourselves. We don't need a troll, a cow, a shaman, a HALF wizard, a vegetarian vampire, or a bunch of fairies to help us with anything. We've lived here for hundreds of years, and we will live here for hundreds more."

Just then the ground shook. Small pieces of rock shattered from the ceiling, and the light in the hall grew dim. A raspy, cackling laughter echoed in the distance, reverberating across the mountains. They looked outside the window of the throne room at their once reclusive kingdom and saw a tremendous breach of their southern border. There was a huge "slash" hanging in the middle of the air, as the enchantment dome of protection was ripped. Droves of soldiers were pouring from the gaping gash that remained so that they seemed to form one large, black writhing mass.

Everyone wore a look of panic. They hadn't ever seen war before, except for Glondo. Jerry and Bessie held hands. Glinda thrust herself into Damien's arms. Roy stood looking at the impending attack, and then traced his eyes back to Xandra's.

"Screw it," he thought. Foad's attention was on the break in the border. He would never notice Roy step up and kiss his only daughter. Nor would he see her return the kiss.

No matter what was going to happen, Roy felt he could face it now. He closed his eyes, ready to face anything when they opened again.

###
