“What size gonad are we looking for?” Diesel asked. “Gorilla gonad or monkey gonad?”
“It’s nonspecific. It just calls for a teaspoon of powdered primate gonad.”
“Eeep!” Carl said.
“I imagine it takes days to dry out a gonad,” Glo said.
“Yeah, and I don’t think you’d get a teaspoon out of what Carl’s showing us,” Diesel said.
Carl gave him the finger and mooned him. Easy to do since Carl didn’t wear pants.
I portioned out the bananas Foster, and Glo scooped vanilla ice cream.
—
Diesel and Carl took Glo home, and Cat and I cleaned the kitchen. Glo had mopped up the blood, but I went over the floor again with disinfectant. This was more for my own mental health than for cleanliness.
“This was fun,” I said to Cat. “Not necessarily the part about smashing Steve’s nose, but the rest of it. I like cooking for my friends. It’s especially fun when it’s last-minute like this.”
We moved to the living room, and I was surfing for a television show when Diesel and Carl walked in and shook the rain off.
“I thought you were going home,” I said to Diesel.
He sat next to me and slouched back. “You thought wrong. I took Glo home and did a temporary fix on her door. I don’t think she’s in danger until four o’clock tomorrow.”
“Me, either.”
“Honey, you’re holding your back door closed with a barstool. Any knuckle dragger can walk in.”
Carl cut his eyes to Diesel and gave him the finger.
“Nothing personal,” Diesel said. “It’s an expression.”
“Can you fix my door?”
“I can fix it tomorrow. Tonight I’m going to keep you safe by staying close.”
“Oh boy.”
“It’s going to be way better than oh boy.”
“Wowee kazowee?”
“Yeah, more like wowee kazowee.”
Carl took the television remote from me and changed the channel to National Geographic.
“What will we do if Ammon doesn’t have the stone on him?” I asked Diesel.
“We’ll go to plan B.”
“Would you like to share plan B with me?”
“No.”
“There isn’t a plan B, is there?”
“Not at the moment.”
“Have you talked to Wulf lately?”
“No.”
“Do you know where he lives?”
“No.”
“Do you know how to get in touch with him?”
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“The answers aren’t reassuring.”
“You need to lower your expectations.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The bakery was back in business Wednesday morning. Clara and I had been working since five, Glo and Broom were behind the counter at nine, and customers came and went in a steady trickle, as usual. On the outside it all looked normal. On the inside we were struggling to stay calm.
“I spent the night combing through Ripple’s,” Glo said. “I was hoping to find an undoing spell that was less complicated. I don’t know if I’m going to be able to get all the ingredients for the spell I have. What if I can’t change Ammon back?”
“Rutherford will get Martin the best kennel money can buy,” I said.
“It’s two o’clock,” Clara said to Glo. “I’ll take over the counter. You and Lizzy should go to the Exotica Shoppe to get your ingredients, and then you can go directly to the lighthouse. I’m closing the bakery at three o’clock so I can lead Diesel through the tunnels.”
I drove the short distance to Ye Olde Exotica Shoppe and parked on the street. Nina Wortley is the store’s owner-manager. She’s in her early sixties, has long frizzed snow-white hair, and her face looks like it’s been dusted with cake flour. Today Nina was wearing Birkenstock clogs and a yellow Belle gown from her Disney collection.
Every nook and cranny of Exotica was crammed with the strange and wonderful. Wolfsbane, bats’ wings, gummy bears, snail entrails, warthog hoof, powdered bridge troll penis, Snickers bars, Pringles, vulture claw, pickled brown cow tongue, rotted beetle brain, kosher salt. There was a special section for vegan witches who needed tofu substitutes for animal parts. And there was also a rack with Harry Potter wizard wands for the tourists.
“I have a list,” Glo told Nina.
“You must be working on a special spell if you have a list,” Nina said.
Glo gave her the list. “It’s an undoing spell.”
“Undoing spells are tricky. Let’s see what you need.” Nina snagged a basket and began to fill it. “Gonads, lizard beak, dingleberries.” She moved to a different part of the shop and searched a cluttered shelf. “Extract of dragon tail, my last bottle. I must remember to reorder.” She unscrewed the lid on a big jar filled with eyeballs. “One blue eyeball.”
“Where do the blue eyeballs come from?” I asked Nina.
“China, of course. They do all the eyeball manufacturing.”
“Do they clone them?” I asked.
Nina put the eyeball in a plastic baggie and dropped it into the basket. “Heavens no. Eyeballs are just for effect. They’re plastic.”