Zelda (2009)
6 - CurfewWilliam, knowing the town, took the lead again as they started to survey the place. Not all the roads had been turned over, so far. Havoc seemed to spread, from the road into town they had taken, into the centre. Some areas hadn't even been touched by the presence of the evil witch, they noticed. At least not physically. The absence of people in the street was a clear sign, however, that Zelda's fame had already spread like fire. "Let's go to O'Malley's pub," the wizard suggested. "Our scared friend mentioned that." Hilda nodded. "I remember that place, I think. That's where the men on the two-wheeled machines were. Pathetic bunch." William frowned for a moment, then they dropped to street level and found their way to the bar. The street where O'Malley's pub was situated was not in too bad a shape. Only one side of the road had been damaged, but that was damaged severely. A small gorge lay in the middle of the street. A car would not be able to pass through it. A motorcycle or a bicycle would work. And a broom, of course. The outside of the bar had changed somewhat, since William's last visit. Nothing dramatic, and certainly nothing that indicated the presence of a witch like Zelda. There was no sound either. Not inside the bar, not in the street. Hilda's wand went round, and she shook her head. "No witch around at the moment. We'd better check inside then." They dismounted from their brooms. William pushed against the door, which calmly opened. A strange smell came from the inside, making Hilda wiggle her nose. "Witch," she simply said and went inside, her broom in hand. The pub was not a pub anymore. Everything was black. All the regular tables and chairs had been turned into massive black benches with black candles on them. The bar itself was now a large shrine with all kinds of artifacts in it. Some looked so bizarre that William was glad he did not know what they were. The mirror behind what had been the bar was now a grotesque image of witches and wizards doing all kinds of unmentionable things. "Zelda's been here alright," Hilda nodded, disrupting the deadly silence that hung in the pub. "This is very much her style." "I would never have guessed," said William, "as her house looked so normal." "There are more sides to a witch than how her house looks, William." Hilda looked round, her wand in hand. "We might upset her a bit by rearranging her set-up here." "Do you think that is a good thing?", William asked. "It will tell her we are here. At this moment we have the advantage of knowing she is here and she's oblivious to our whereabouts." "I knew I kept you around for something, William." Hilda smiled at him. "Let's keep an eye on this place and look around at what she's been doing so far." William nodded. He was more than willing to get out of the depressing place that had been O'Malley's. And he wondered what had become of Patrick O'Malley himself. They left the pub, mounted their brooms and flew off. William led them to the bookstore of his old friend, Bert Bantrey. The bookstore itself was still a bookstore. Some of the windows had been smashed and boarded up, but the door was still where it was supposed to be. He knocked on the door and stepped into the store, from where the familiar scent of books and ink welcomed him home. "Hold it right there." The voice was determined and full of anger. The metallic click that had to be from a gun underlined how serious the owner of the voice was about his statement. William stood still and held Hilda back also. "Bert? It's me. William Connoley." "Sure. William Connoley does not walk 'round in a blue dress." William changed his clothes into what Bert had been used to. "Better this way?" "Holy shit. William. Is that you? What'd you do?" Bert still did not show himself, but William had by now determined where his friend of old was hiding. "Yes Bert, it's me. And this is my... wife. Hilda." "I'm not your wife, William, I'm your witch. That's better," Hilda commented. Bert got to his feet, a large gun still pointing at the two people. "I know that voice," he said. "She's the woman who was here so many years ago. You knocked me out with a book. That was you." The barrel of the gun shook precariously. "Yes. I'm glad you remember me," Hilda said. The owner of the bookstore tightened his grip on his weapon. "If she is a real witch, then you can be anyone. How do I know you are William Connoley?" William slowly and calmly told a few things that only he and Bert would know. About hunts for books they had done together. About a night in O'Malley's. And about the last telephone conversation they'd had before William had so mysteriously disappeared. Bert lowered the gun. "You must be William then. But still I don't understand. What did you do, just now, when you were in that blue dress?" "William is a wizard now," Hilda said before William had found a proper way to explain it. "He came to my world and somehow he changed into a magical person. And wizards wear the blue robes." She prodded him. "It's true, Bert. I am a wizard." William held up the broom. "This is my transport." "Get out of here, William Connoley. You do not fly on a broom. That is the stuff for fairy-tales." Bert put the gun on the counter and stepped closer, to shake the hand of his friend. And the woman who claimed to be a witch. It was remarkable, Bert noticed, how his friend put the broom down, but did not put away the little stick in his hand. William just took it in his left hand as long as it took to shake Bert's hand. Bert then invited the two to the back of the store. "I'll make tea," he said. "And then I have to tell you what happened here." He checked outside the door, put up the "Closed" sign and locked up. After he had made tea and they were sitting, Bert told them the fairy-tale the cops had already tried to sell them. That there was a terrorist attack on the town, and the strange things that seemed to happen were because of a gas. "Bert. There is no gas. There is a witch on the loose here. And we are here to try and capture her before she damages too much." Bert looked at William and shook his head. "Sorry William, you were not here when it all happened. I have seen it. The vision of a woman in black on a broom, and how she tore up the street. That's impossible." Hilda coughed a few times and put her hand on William's arm, while through the bond she signalled him to drop the subject. "Listen, William, I don't have much space, but I can offer you a place to sleep if you want," Bert offered. "I don't know where you've been, but I am mighty glad to see you again and maybe we can all go out for dinner once these terrorists have been caught." The prospect of having a haven near the place where Zelda had made her camp was magnificent, so William and Hilda accepted Bert's offer gladly. "I am not sure if I can provide food for you," he said as he showed them up the stairs and into the room they could use. "Don't worry, Bert, we'll manage." William winked at Hilda who grinned back at him. The room was reasonable. There was a bed, bed linen in ample supply and, very important, a large window. William had carried the two brooms with him in a cloaking spell. He put them against the side of the large closet in the room and stood before them so Bert would not notice them. "Bert, this would be wonderful. Thank you so much." Bert nodded. "You're welcome to stay as long as you want. Just remember the curfew. No one out after six in the evening. Not that anyone wants to go out these days. But I have to go home now, and see some people, so I'll be gone in a few minutes. Don't unlock the door, I beg you. I'll be back in the morning somewhere." "Bert, don't worry about us. We'll be fine," said Hilda, patting the man on the shoulder. "William and I will be careful." Bert nodded. "Do you want me to leave the gun here? I have another one at home." "No, take it with you, my friend," said William, "we can handle ourselves. As Hilda said, don't worry about us." "Good, good." The bookstore owner waved goodbye to them and went down the stairs. Not much later they heard the door being locked. "Terrorists and gas. Curfew." William sat down on the bed and sighed. "What a story. And people eat it up!" Hilda patted him on the shoulder. "See. I told you this world is insane. Once we have Zelda, we're going back to where things are in order, sweet man." The wizard snickered for a moment. "Yeah. I'm actually beginning to believe you." He got to his feet again. "Let's forget about the curfew." The brooms jumped into their hands, the witch opened the window and away they went. The couple moved to the row of houses and buildings on the other side of the street and then, as low as they could, flew to the place where Zelda had modified O'Malley's to her own liking. "She's not here," Hilda said. "Not a trace of her." From where they were, they had a good view over the town. There was only one pillar of smoke, the other fires had either died out or were put out by people. They flew over to the last fire, which they located in the garden of a school. All the books that originally belonged inside the building were now scattered about on the lawn. A fire that billowed up the greasy smoke originated in a pile of burning books. Every so often, a few of the books that were laying around would jump into the fire, keeping it burning. "Pah," spat Hilda, and slammed the fire out. "That's sick, burning books." Together with William she put the books back into the school building and sealed it magically so Zelda would have quite a hard time getting them out again. "That will show her that there are other magicals around," William noted. "So what. She'll find out anyway, and she doesn't know who we are," Hilda muttered as she removed the embers and ashes that were still on the lawn. "So we still have the advantage." At that moment a shot was fired. William caught the bullet. Hilda quickly looked around and saw the man with the rifle. The rifle gave in to her magical demand and liquified, dripping from the man's hands. In a flash they were on their brooms and on top of the shooting person. "What was this for?", William asked the man as he held up the bullet. "That's not the way to greet people. I doubt you have many friends." The man, his face pale and the crotch of his pants dark, stammered a few syllables. "Pull yourself together, man," said Hilda. "Why were you attacking us? You don't even know us!" The unfortunate sniper regained control of his vocal chords. "You are like that other woman! You do things that aren't possible, and my orders are to shoot anyone who does things like that. We don't want folks like you around." "And that's where you are wrong," Hilda said. "Without us you'll never get rid of the witch. You people have been trying for days already, and all you have is a curfew, roads torn up and people scared." William put the bullet in the man's hand. "This is for you. Show that to your superiors, son, and tell them that a bullet does not affect a witch very much. Nor a wizard. And ask them not to bother us while we try to stop the witch that got here." "Who are you people?", the gunman asked. "We're the ones who will save your sorry asses," William elaborated. "Now get away and let us do what we came here for." The sniper got to his feet and ran off as fast as he could. And that was faster than he had imagined.
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