As Poshleen grinned wildly, brandishing her shining dagger, May slowly backed away in her magi-chair. She really didn’t want to end up a crime scene investigation in a murder mystery book. She blubbered helplessly, “Ms. Penwell.”

Penwell raised her hand and Poshleen temporarily ceased her attack, though a grin was still frozen on her face. “Yes,” Penwell asked, looking slightly annoyed about the delayed bloodshed.

“This isn’t fair,” May sobbed. “It’s hard to be a warrior of words when you’re handicapped.”

Instead of a look of sympathy and some free-flowing words of kindness, Penwell’s nostrils flared and she spat, “Do you think the world cared about my needless and crippling addiction to dandelion wine when I wrote my successful romances? No. If anything, adversity will beat you into a better writer”—Penwell clapped her hands. “Now there will be no more interruptions until one of you is history-in-the-making while the other is a forgotten footnote.”

Come on, May thought to herself. She clutched the shadow quill between her hands. It was icy for a feather pen, but May didn’t care. She had to come up with an idea on how to utilize the plumage into a weapon of words.

May turned her head to gaze upon her soon-to-be-published novel. “What would Svetlana use to combat some uppity customer?” And then, her eyes glinted behind her glasses. She knew what she had to do.

She scrawled in thin air, “May Cumberson brandished the cords of a window blind like her convenient store mummymatrix.

The dark plumage grew long and snakelike, reaching down to the floor. Both Penwell and Poshleen’s eyes grew wide as May deftly twirled a pair of cords from a window blind.

Like an anaconda ready to strike, May unleashed the blinds which wrapped themselves around Poshleen’s pale, skinny wrists. The unhinged aristocrat bared her teeth as May gave a delighted belly-laugh. “What’s wrong? Got yourself in a blind? Much like you, Poshy, I drew inspiration from my own steamy romance novel.”

“Gah,” Poshleen growled. “I won’t find myself defeated by this smut. It’s time to cut the cord.”

Posheleen turned her hand towards her wrists and sliced the blind cords. They fell harmlessly to the ground. Once again, the mad aristocrat converged on May with her dagger in hand. The severed blind cords returned back to the shadow plume. May clutched it tightly and bravely puffed out her cheeks. She was diminished but not finished and had to stall long enough for Mena and Janus to free Deidre.

***

Mena and Janus flanked by Grizabella the cat approached the side door of Love Ink. Every second that passed, Mena’s heart raced quicker. Not only did they have to free Deidre, but May’s safety was also a great priority. Janus grabbed the metal door, but it refused to budge.

“Oh nosie!” Mena gasped. “How are we going to get in now?”

“Stand back,” Janus said, casually glancing over her shoulder at Mena and Grizabella. She lifted a bony appendage to her head and screeched, bellowed, and rasped a magic spell: “HELLO DAD, HELLO MOM, SUMMON ME A MIND BOMB!”

A hot pink bomb that resembled a cerebral cortex formed out of the ether of Janus’ mind and dropped sizzling to the ground. Janus, Mena and Grizabella dove out of the way as it detonated, reducing the side of the building into a cragged pile of bricks and ash.

“Wowie zowie!” Mena exclaimed, swatting the smoke from her face. “Janus, where did you learn that mind trick?”

Janus held her hand over her face and giggled mischievously. “I was listening to MBR radio and they played a witch punk song by Crone Jett. Her song helped me visualize a new mental weapon.”

Mena’s eyes dilated in shock and her mouth hung open. “This Crone Jett sounds like she could beat me up. I’m not sure if that’s my kind of artist.”

Janus patted Mena on the back and closed her eyes. “Hey, everyone loves some kind of music. You like frothy Taylor Witch pop, but Crone Jett is my kinda gal.”

Mena high fived Janus. “That’s the beauty of being different. Now let’s get a move on. We’ve gotta save Dede.”

The three jogged down the hallway and burst into the room with the shadow veil.

“Dede?” Mena cried and she was met with an affirmative “mmph” from behind the dark veil.

“Dede,” Mena cried. “It is you!”

She pulled the string attached to the powder blue lamp in her hands and it emitted a golden aura, dissipating the darkness and revealing a long-lost friend…and a book. Bound and gagged in the corner was Deidre with radiant orange hair and a banana green sundress. There were crows’ feet spread across her eyes, and she was pale and gaunt, but her face was instantly recognizable. Through dark baggy eyes, Deidre gazed at Mena, and they filled with tears. The young witch threw herself at her caretaker, overjoyed to be reunited at last. She dashed to Deidre, nearly bowling her over in the warmest embrace she had ever given someone. Mena removed the gag from her friend’s mouth and suddenly, she screamed. Deidre’s face looked completely normal except for one fact: she had no mouth.

“Dede,” Mena screamed, recoiling in horror. “What happened to you.”

“The same thing that happened to me,” a snarky age-old woman’s voice responded. “The nefarious blood siren got to her.”

Mena turned her head to the book that was lying beside Deidre. On the cover was a bony middle-aged witch with long black, skunk striped hair filled with sunflowers. “Melina Penwell?” Mena gasped.

“Or,” the author said in a sardonic voice. “As you may be more familiar with, I’m X/O.”

“We should have known,” Janus sang knowingly. “The whole X/O thing sure seemed like it was gonna be a quality plot twist, and who better to write it than a novelist herself.”

“Why thank you, my bony friend,” the real Penwell said. “I’m truly flattered. And not only am I a master of the plot twist, but exposition too.”

Janus and Grizabella approached the book witch as she told her tale. “While I was out of Wormwood seeking worldly inspiration for my next romantic thriller, that dastardly witch Anguish managed to trap me in my own book and steal my body.”

“Oh,” Mena said, gazing widely at Penwell. “Is that how Anguish managed to sneak past the Force Flame and get into Wormwood?”

“Precisely,” Penwell said. “Of course, I couldn’t sit idlily by while witchkind’s greatest enemy took over so I used my powers to commune with you via pages from my book. And going by the fact that you’re here. My plan worked.”

Mena looked back at Deidre who helplessly stared at her without a mouth. “It’ll be okay,” she said to Deidre before turning to Penwell. “Why did Anguish pretend to kill Dede…and steal her mouth too?”

Penwell sighed. “Unfortunately, this writer doesn’t have all the answers. But we mustn’t tarry. We can still escape.”

“Right,” Mena nodded and took Deidre by the hand. “We can.”

Janus scooped up Penwell, who muttered, “Easy on my spine. This book’s getting up there in age,” and they departed from the room of the shadow veil.

Exiting into the hallway, it was time for Mena to give May the signal. She sang in her off-key girlish voice,” I knew you were toil and trouble when you flew in…”

Grizabella, Deidre and Janus all cringed at her talentless singing.

“Boy,” Mena giggled, turning bright pink. “I could use some auto-broom.”

“Not only is it curtains for your singing career,” an arrogant, haughty voice laughed. “But it’s curtains for your life too, Receiver!”

Everyone turned around. Jonah Clearmind, a scratched-up Nick and an army of Dream Police all stood by, blocking their escape. “This is the end of the line for you, Receiver,” Clearmind chortled. “You will surrender your eyes to me!”

“Never,” Mena shouted defiantly, and she turned towards the end of the corridor. The only other way out was through the seminar room with Poshleen, May and Anguish herself.

At least we could save May, Mena thought, even if it means facing the scariest witch in existence.

“Everyone to the opposite door,” Mena shouted and boldly thrust her hand forward to the seminar room.

“Oh well, bonezai!” Janus sang as they ran in the direction of hell itself.