H Mallory - To Kill A Warlock

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There was no way in hell I was looking in the mirror.

I knew it was bad when I glanced down. My stomach, if thats what you wanted to call it, was five times its usual size and exploded around me in a mass of jelly-like fat. To make matters worse, it was the color of overcooked peas-that certain jaundiced yellow.

Wow, Dulce, you look like crap, Sam said.

I tried to give her my best dont piss me off look, but I wasnt sure my face complied because I had no clue what my face looked like. If it was anything like my stomach, it had to be canned-pea green and covered with raised bumps. The bumps in question werent small like what youd see on a toad-more like the size of dinner plates. Inside each bump, my skin was a darker green. And the textureit was like running your finger across the tops of your teeth-jagged with valleys and mountains.

Can you fix it? I asked, my voice coming out monster-deep. I shouldnt have been surprised-I was a good seven feet tall now. And with the substantial body mass, my voice could only be deep.

Yeah, I think I can. Sams voice didnt waver which was a good sign.

I turned to avoid the suns rays as they broke through the window, the sunlight not feeling too great against my boils.

I glanced at Sams perfect sitting room, complete with a sofa, love seat, and two armchairs all in a soothing beige, the de facto color for inoffensive furniture. Better Homes and Gardens sat unattended on Sams coffee table-opened at an article about how beautiful drought resistant plants can be.

You have nine eyes, Sam said.

At least they focused as one. I couldnt imagine having them all space cadetting out. Talk about a headache.

Turning my attention from her happy sitting room, I forced my nine eyes on her, hoping the extra seven would be all the more penetrating. Can you focus please? I snapped.

Sam held her hands up. Okay, okay. Sheesh, I guess getting changed into a gigantic booger put you into a crappy mood.

Gee, you think? My legs ached with the weight of my body. I had no idea if I had two legs or more or maybe a stump-my stomach covered them completely. I groaned and leaned against the wall, waiting for Sam to put on her glasses and figure out how to reverse the spell.

Sam was a witch and a pretty damned good one at that. Id give her twenty minutes-then Id be back to my old self. Was it Fabian who boogered you? she asked.

The mention of the little bastard set my anger ablaze. I had to count to five before the rage simmered out of me like a water balloon with a leak. I peeled myself off the wall and noticed a long spindle of green slime still stuck to the plaster; it reached out as if afraid to part with me.

Ew! Sam said, taking a step back from me. You are so cleaning that wall.

Fine. Just get me back to normal. Im going to murder Fabian when I see him again.

Fabian was a warlock, a master of witchcraft. The little cretin hadnt taken it well when Id come to his dark arts store to observe his latest truckload delivery. I knew the little rat was importing illegal potions (love potions, revenge potions, lust potionsthe list went on) and it was my job to stop it. Im a Regulator, someone who monitors the creatures of the Netherworld to ensure theyre not breaking any rules. Think law enforcement. And Fabian clearly was breaking some rule. Otherwise, he wouldnt have turned me into a walking phlegm pile.

Sam turned and faced a sheet of chocolate chip cookie mounds. Hold on a second, I gotta put these in the oven.

She sashayed to the kitchen and I couldnt help but think what an odd picture we made: Sam, looking like the quintessential housewife with her apron, paisley dress and Stepford wife smile and me, looking like an alien there to abduct her.

She slid the cookies in, shut the oven door and offered me a cheery grin. Now, where was I? Ah yes, let me just whip something together.

Kneeling down, she opened a cupboard door beneath the kitchen island and grabbed two clay bowls, three glass jars, and a metal whisk. One jar was filled with a pink powder, the next with a liquid that looked like molasses, and the third with a sugary-type powder.

Sam, I dont have time to watch you make more cookies.

Stop being so cranky! Im stirring a potion to figure out how the heck Im going to help you. I have no idea what spell that little creep put on you.

I frowned, or thought I did.

Sam opened a jar and took a pinch of the pink powder between her fingers. She dropped it in the bowl and whisked. Then she spooned one tablespoon of the molasses-looking stuff into the bowl and whisked again. Dumping half the white powder in with the rest, she paused and then dumped in the remainder. Then she studied me, biting her lip. It was a look I knew too well-one that wouldnt lead to anything good. What? I demanded. I need some part of your body. But, it doesnt look like you have any hair. Hmm, do you have fingernails?

I went to move my arm and four came up. But, even with four arms, I didnt have a single fingernail-just webbed hands that looked like duck feet. I bet I was a good swimmer.

Sorry, no fingernails.

Well, this might hurt then.

She turned around and pulled a butcher knife from the knife block before approaching me like a stealthy cat. Even with my enormous body, I was up and out of her way instantly.

Hold on a second! Keep that thing away from me!

I need something from your body to make the potion work right. I wont take much, just a tiny piece of flesh.

I felt like adding and not a drop of blood, but was too pre-occupied with protecting myself. I glanced at the wall and eyed the snotty globule, still attached to the plaster as if it had a right to be there. What about that stuff? Sam grimaced but stopped advancing. Im not touching that. Okay, fine. How about some spit then? Yeah, that might do.

My entire body breathed a sigh of relief which, given the size of me, was a pretty big breath. She put the knife back, and I made my way over to her slowly-not convinced she wasnt going to Sweeney Todd on me again.

She held out the bowl. Spit.

I wasnt sure if my body was capable of spitting, but I leaned over and gave it a shot. Something slid up my throat, and I watched a blob of yellow land in her bowl.

It was moving. Gross.

It continued to vacillate as it interacted with the mixture, sprawling this way and that like it was having a seizure.

Yuck, Sam said, holding the bowl as far away from her as possible. She returned it to the counter as the timer went off. Facing the oven, she grabbed a mitt that said Kiss me, Im Wiccan, pulled open the oven door, and grabbed hold of the cookie sheet, placing them on the counter.

My stomach growled, sounding like an angry wolf and unable to stop myself, I lumbered toward the cookies. I grabbed the sheet, not feeling the heat of the tin on my webbed hand. Sam watched me, her mouth hanging open as I lifted the sheet of cookies and emptied every last one into my mouth, swallowing them whole.

Sams brows furrowed with anger, giving her normally angelic face a little attitude. I was saving those to bring to work on Monday, thank you very much!

Sam didnt wear angry well. She was too pretty-dark brown shoulder length hair, perfect skin, perfect teeth, and big brown eyes.

Come on, Sam, I pleaded, my mouth brimming with gooey chocolate. You know I didnt do it on purpose. I dont even like sweets.

Something slimy and pink escaped my mouth and ran itself over my lips. It took me a second to realize it was my tongue. Rather than curling back into my mouth, it hesitated on my lip as I focused on a stray chocolate chip lounging against the counter. Instantly, my tongue lurched out and grabbed hold of the chip, recoiling into my mouth like a spent cobra.