"Well, it's not, right?"
Mr. Canis entered the room and took a seat. Squeezing into his chair was getting harder and harder for him. Soon, Sabrina suspected, he wouldn't be able to join them for dinner at all.
"Mr. Canis, our friend Puck has some odd symptoms. Earlier he had a crackling throat and now he can't seem to get enough to eat," Granny said with an odd smile.
Mr. Canis examined Puck closely, then took a deep sniff in Puck's direction. "Interesting."
Puck sat up and turned his head from the old woman to the old man. "What? What's wrong?"
Granny Relda smiled and shook her head. "You'll see."
Puck scowled and turned to Sabrina. He stuck out his tongue, exposing a mouthful of half-chewed food, then laughed when she turned green.
Just then, there was a knock at the door. Sabrina, who had lost her appetite once again, handed the boy her plate and got up from the table. "I'll get it."
She crossed the room and opened the door. Standing on the porch was Morgan le Fay. She looked distraught.
"I need your help," she said. "I've been robbed."
Sabrina sighed. "I think I'm seeing the beginnings of a pattern."
*
Everafters unnerved Sabrina. She didn't like talking animals or inanimate objects running around. Trolls gave her the willies, the memory of her encounter with Rumpelstiltskin still haunted her, but witches were the spookiest of them all. Most of the ones she had met were covered in warts and misplaced puffs of hair. They smelled funny and laughed at things that were disturbing. Even the seemingly normal-looking Glinda, who was actually quite pretty, had an odd way of talking--a sort of singsong that grated on Sabrina's nerves. All in all, she could do without witches.
Morgan le Fay, on the other hand, was a beautiful, curvy woman with jet-black hair and big bright eyes. She was funny, smart, and a little sarcastic, which, as a New Yorker, Sabrina held in the highest regard. She also had a seductive charm that made men of all ages crazy. Uncle Jake nearly knocked over the dining room table when Granny asked him if he'd like to drive them to Morgan's house.
The enchantress lived in an apartment not far from the Metro-North train station. Her place was nothing fancy. The pavement leading to the front door was crumbling, the yard was filled with mud and crabgrass, and there were several rusty bikes lying in a neglected shrub out front. Parked by the curb was a van with a giant mouse stepping onto a mousetrap on top. The words rodent wranglers were painted on the van's doors.
The family followed Morgan as she sashayed to her front door. Waiting there were half a dozen men who quickly removed their hats, straightened their hair, and sucked in their potbellies when they spotted her.
"Morgan," one of the men said. "I fixed that leaky sink."
"Oh, Steven, you're a doll," Morgan said as she reached up and kissed the man on the cheek. "I only called about it yesterday."
"Morgan, I've gone to the hardware store and picked up all the paint for the living room," another man said proudly, as if he had just won a gold medal in the Olympics.
"Morgan, I'll be here bright and early tomorrow to change your oil," another man said.
"Morgan, I put in a new hot water tank for you."
"Morgan, I fixed that crooked mirror in your bathroom."
"Morgan, I spackled that hole in the kitchen ceiling."
"Oh, boys, you really must let me pay you something for all the hard work you're doing," she purred.
"Absolutely not!" the men cried, then turned and shot one another angry, jealous looks.
"Boys, I'm so happy you came by, but I have some guests right now," the beautiful witch said. The men looked as if they had waited in line all day to ride the carousel only to hear the fair was closing for the night. They threw out a few halfhearted "of courses" and promised to return at a time that was more convenient for Morgan. She thanked them all and gave each a hug. The men strutted to the parking lot as if they'd just won the lottery. Moments later, they were arguing. A second after that, they were all in one big fistfight.
"Boys will be boys," Morgan said with an embarrassed smile. She unlocked her apartment door and led the group inside, where Sabrina's ears were assaulted by a terrific racket of rockets, machine guns, and helicopters. She could actually feel the floor rumbling beneath her shoes from the volume. She wondered if she hadn't just stepped onto a battlefield until she noticed a very pale and pudgy young man playing the most violent video game she had ever seen. The man looked to be in his late twenties, though his three-day beard, paunchy belly, and tired eyes made him seem much older. He wore a ratty T-shirt that read one ring to rule them all
, and he was surrounded by delivery pizza boxes and hamburger wrappers. If he noticed that anyone had entered the room, he made no sign of it.
"Mordred!" Morgan said sharply. "We have company."
"I see them," he said without turning his head.