“You have to be guffing her, Regina, or else you don’t know your way around hell.”
“And what makes you think so, Nellie dear?”
“I know the Devil’s big sell when he comes on with witches. He’s got a built on him like a hot elephant.”
“I hope you find out, Nellie. All right, Ud, conjure the hot elephant to come to hot Nell Gwyn.”
Udgedye read the Conjuration.
Sarah
+ Oodgedye
+ Udgedye
– 5
0
“Only sensational, Ud. You could sell tickets. Now it’s Pact. Mary, dear, did you practice the medieval French?”
“I did my best, Regina, but it’s a bitch.”
“I offered to trade with you, Mary. Mine for yours. Even. Why didn’t you swap?”
“What, Yenta? Hebrew for French? Some even trade! No, I took from some history experts.”
“Aye! There is a history in all men’s lives. Shakespeare. Henry IV. And what, pray, did the savants say?”
“They were kind of vague, Sarah. Nobody’s sure how they talked way back then.”
“How long ago was medieval, Mary? Like the time of King Charles the Second?”
“I’m not sure, Nellie. Maybe more like Napoleon or Joan of Arc. I always get them mixed up.”
“How could you possibly?”
“They were both generals.”
“Hmmm. Makes sense. At least to her.”
“So if I sound funny-ha-ha and funny-peculiar, Regina, remember it’s not my fault.”
“We’ll remember, Mary. Go.”
Mary Mixup read the Pact.
Sarah
+ Oodgedye
+ Udgedye
+ Mary Mixup
– 4
0
“Marvy! Simply marvy, Mary. Joan of Arc couldn’t have done better.”
“Or Napoleon.”
“Or even the general that heads the Glacial Army.”
“He’s tough to top.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s a she.”
“Ladies! Ladies! We must be serious or we’ll never raise the devil. You’re next, Nellie, with Rituel.”
Nell Gwyn read the Rituel.
Sarah
+ Oodgedye
+ Udgedye
+ Mary Mixup
+ Nell Gwyn
– 3
0
“Wonderful, darling! You rattled those arcane names off like a dance program.”
“I suppose that makes me the Belle of Hell.”
“Yes, I can see Satan asking for the next dance.”
“Or yance, Priss.”
“Really, Nell! We don’t use five-letter words.”
“But we think them, Priss.”
“You think them, Nellie.”
“No, love, I do them.”
“Please, ladies, don’t let’s bicker. It’s my turn now. I just adore Vision.”
Regina rehearsed Vision.
Sarah
+ Oodgedye
+ Udgedye
+ Mary Mixup
+ Nell Gwyn
+ Regina
– 2
0
“Applause, Regina! Applause! Applause!”
“Thank you. Thank you all. Time out for my sighs. Whoever had that vision was—”
“Aye, a W*I*T*C*H!”
“And one of the elephant’s favorites, Sarah.”
“I was going to say that she was a previous incarnation of me. Nellie. And now, last of all, our two Cabalists. One at a time, please. Priss?”
Miss Priss recited the first Cabala.
Sarah
+ Oodgedye
+ Udgedye
+ Mary Mixup
+ Nell Gwyn
+ Regina
+ Miss Priss
– 1
0
“Fagin! Positively Fagin, Priss.”
“Fagin? Who he, Regina?”
“The Merchant of Venice. I thought everybody knew.”
“I didn’t. Is that good or bad, being this Venice-type?”
“The highest praise, dear. I only hope our second Cabalist can do as well. She has the toughest assignment of us all.”
“And don’t I know it. Listen, I want a trade.”
“Here we go again.”
“What do you want to trade, Yenta?”
“Well, I’ve got the Hebrew down cold.”
“How’d you do that?”
“I’m married to a rabbi.”
“No! A Hebrew Jew rabbi? How voluptuous!”
“And she taught me. But I had a look at my face in the mirror while she was coaching… Ughsville! So I don’t dare do it twice in a row. My face might stick that way.”
“Maybe she’ll like it better that way.”
“Oh shut up, Nellie. I’m offering a trade. You trust me to get it right when we do the whole number together, and I’ll hold the Hand of Glory.”
“But we’re going to spike it on a candlestick.”
“I’ll hold it instead. It’ll be more sincere.”
“You can’t, Yenta. You’ll be sick.”
“I’d rather be sick than ugly. I’ll hold it. Is it a deal, Regina?”
“But that thing is so hideous, dear… Well, all right. It’s a deal. Now, ladies, we’ve got the spells letter-perfect but we mustn’t be careless. It’d be maddening if one niggling slip ruined everything.”
“Are the fiends so fussy, Regina?”
“All my wicked books say so. It’s a sign of sincerity to Satan. Now, are we ready?”
“Is it for real this time?”
“It is, with lights and props. Pi-face, light the Hand of Glory and give it to Miz Yenta. Light the incense and all the other horrid smells. All of us together around the pentacle. We chant in symphonic form. Take your tempo and entrance cues from me.”
They formed a circle around the pentacle drawn on the floor, with the stately, gracious Regina sitting like a baroque jewel at the head of a ring; Nell Gwyn, all red hair, milky skin, opulent poitrine; Yenta Calienta, tall, dark, handsome, butch; Sarah Heartburn, piercing blue eyes under heavy brows set in a mobile face; the twins, Oodgedye and Udgedye, looking like a pair of succulent Greek slaves; Mary Mixup, wearing her fair hair like a helmet that needs adjustment; Miss Priss, who might have modeled for Tenniel’s Alice in Through the Looking Glass.
“Now, ladies,” Regina urged in her sweet, flowing voice, “you are no longer ladies. You are wicked witches. Really mean it when you chant. Want the Devil to appear. Yearn for him. Love him. Beg him… Now!”
* * *
2
Adida Ind’dni was Subadar of the poisonous Guff, a police precinct incorporating the territory of the old Greater New York in the Northeast Corridor. Subadar is a distinguished rank in the Indian military which had been enlisted in most of the world’s police forces by the year of Our Lord 2175. Particular qualities of high-caste Hindus—subtlety, sophistication, deep cultural resources, and profound emotional reserves—ideally suited them to the trying investigation of the psychopathic and psychedelic crime that was a way of life in the Guff.
Subadar is a title which can mean Viceroy, Governor, Captain, Chief, take your pick. Ind’dni was variously addressed as Subadar, Captain, Chief, or Mister. He responded to any and all salutations because he was too exalted in caste and rank to stand on dignity and status. However, he did recoil from one label which the twenty-second-century media had pinned on him: “The Murder Mavin of the Guff.” No one ever dared address him as “Mavin Ind’dni.”
The Subadar thought he had seen every fatal outrage perpetrated and even created (for new sins were constantly being originated) in the heart of the Northeast Corridor, nicknamed “the Guff” by its brawling inmates, but this horror was unique, and nauseated his sensitive Hindu soul.