Hexed

to get her attention, and her eyes widened. I unbound myself and remembered to cover my goodies just in time. The widow smiled widely and cackled.
    » Whoo-hoo, Atticus, have ye come to give me a show? I think I have a couple of dollars in me purse inside. «
    Crouching down carefully to pick up the amulet off her porch, I said, » Yes, let’s get inside quickly, please. « I had to get her out of sight before the witches got there.
    » It’s open—get yer naked bum in there. « I dashed indoors, asking her to please hurry, and I darted to her bathroom and yanked a towel hanging from the shower stall to wrap around my hips.
    » Aw, why’d ye put away yer twig and berries? « the widow teased when I emerged. » I thought ye were goin’ t’give me somethin’ to confess on Sunday. «
    » We need to lock up the house, « I explained. » We’re in danger. Witches are on their way. Do you have a necklace you can put this on? « I showed her the amulet. The widow had lived through the Troubles in Ireland. She knew by my tone that there wasn’t time to ask questions.
    » Yes, in me bedroom I have some gold chains, « she said, her teasing smile gone.
    » Grab one quickly and then meet me in the bathroom. We have to keep you out of sight of the windows until I get this on you. «
    » All right. But ye’ll owe me an explanation, « she said, walking as quickly as she could to her bedroom. I dashed around her house, which was full of lace and oak furniture with overstuffed cushions, making sure the doors were locked. I quickly bound the metal of the locks to the jambs, making them a piece of solid metal; even with an unlocking spell, the witches would be unable to budge them. Still, since the widow’s house wasn’t warded, the doors would slow them down for only a few moments. They would break through the windows if they wanted us badly enough, and I suspected they did.
    The widow was in the bathroom, waiting for me with a gold chain. I closed the door and locked it, then explained what was happening as I strung the amulet on her chain and clasped it about her neck. The pounding on the front door began as I spoke.
    » There are two German witches out there who want us both dead. They can kill you with a word without this protection. It’s a talisman, and it’ll punch you in the chest if they sling their spell at you, but don’t take it off, because that just means it’s working, okay? «
    » Okay, but why do they want to kill us? «
    » The short version is that one of them’s having a bad hair day, « I said. » I’ll have to give you the long version later. «
    Big front windows with panes in them don’t shatter all at once, like the sugar glass you see in movies. They can take an impact or two with loud whumps , and maybe a crack, before they completely shatter. After the first impact, the cats yowled and scattered somewhere to hide. It sounded like the witches were using the widow’s patio chairs to batter away at the windows. I compartmentalized it and concentrated on activating the widow’s talisman. Even when the glass shattered and I heard them cursing in German as they climbed into the living room, I kept focused on my task. I finished up just as someone rattled the locked bathroom door.
    » Sie sind hier drinnen! « one called to the other.
    » Get down into the bathtub and pull the curtain, « I whispered to the widow. » I’m going to take care of this. «
    They began to kick at the door, which would not stand the punishment for long. Those courtesy locks on residential bathrooms are there to prevent your family members from walking in on you while you’re exercising your colon; they’re not designed to keep out homicidal hexen . If I waited for them to bust through, I’d lose the initiative and give them a shot at the widow. So I didn’t wait.
    Concentrating on the locking mechanism, already buckling after a couple of kicks, I began to whisper an unbinding on the metal as I waited for kick number three. After it came—quite nearly shattering the lock anyway—I completed the unbinding and let the stressed metal relax. Then I yanked the door open, the steel crumbling like a day-old muffin, catching the kicker off balance and back on her heels. It was the brunette. I rammed my fist into her surprised schnoz, and she cracked her head painfully on the wall of the hallway, her knees failing after a moment and dragging her to the floor. The blonde, standing to my right outside the doorway,