“I need more than this,” Thirteen said grimly. “The island will protect us from the louts, who are afraid of the ghosts, but how do you propose to handle the monster? Once we’re on the island, we’re committed.”

  “I will kiss it.”

  “Kiss it! It will gobble you down as a sacrifice.”

  Apoca smiled. “In which case you will have a year’s reprieve, no? Trust me.”

  “I do,” she said dubiously.

  It was now dusk. Sure enough, the louts were arriving, and the monster was surely not far behind. They needed to act swiftly.

  “Four, Eleven,” Apoca rapped, before they could get airborne. “I need your talents at the shore.”

  The designated witches joined her, fastening their brooms to their backs with spot harnesses. These were the young illusionist and the carpenter Apoca had watched in the afternoon.

  “Add some quick planking to your wharf,” she told the carpenter. “So that it projects farther across the water.”

  “It can’t possibly cross to the island in such a brief time,” the witch warned.

  “It doesn’t need to. This is a special purpose device.” She turned to the other witch. “Stand at the edge of the wharf and make an illusion of it extending the rest of the way across to the island. Can you do that?”

  “Yes, I think so. But no one could actually use it to cross.”

  “No one will cross. Can you maintain the illusion without staying right beside it?”

  “Yes, but not for very long.”

  “That will be fine. Can you use your illusion to mask yourself, to become invisible, so others can’t see you?”

  The girl laughed. “I do that all the time. My sister witches aren’t much amused when I spy on them.”

  “Can you do both illusions at once?”

  “No, only one at a time.”

  This was going to be tricky, but it should be feasible. “I will direct a little charade here, when the louts come. Follow my directions, then be ready to fly out of danger.”

  Four and Eleven got to work. In a generous moment there was a new plank attached, and the illusion of more planks extending all the way across the inlet to the island. The other witches stood at the shore, watching with confused interest. What was the point in presenting a causeway that couldn’t be used?

  The louts arrived, charging almost mindlessly ahead in the dusk. “Now we need to lure them onto the apparent causeway,” Apoca said. “We want to seem to be three stranded witches crossing the water via the planks. You, Four, can hide by disappearing. I can’t. May I borrow your broom?”

  The younger witch looked at the older witch, who nodded nervously. Four handed over her broom. “You control it mentally. Think ‘Fly,’ and it will. Then hang on.”

  “Thank you.”

  Apoca stepped onto the last of the solid planks and faced the oncoming horde. She ripped off her clothing, jammed it into her purse, squeezed the purse to mini nut size, put it into her mouth, and stood naked, holding only the broom. She knew she presented an alluring figure for men intent on ravishment. The two witches stood on either side of her.

  “I think I am seeing the plan,” Eleven said, removing her own clothing to reveal a solid but shapely torso garbed only in white bra and black panty. “They think the causeway is real.”

  “They’re not thinking rationally,” Apoca said. “That’s part of the point of our exposure.”

  Four caught on. “They’ll get dunked!” She doffed her own clothing except for the pink panty and stood as a tempting nymph.

  “Yes,” Apoca agreed. “But make sure they don’t actually get their lusty hands on you.”

  Four got into the act with relish. She waggled her hands beside her ears. “Nyaa! Nyaa! You can’t catch me!” She did a little jump that made her assets bounce dangerously.

  The louts spied them and charged in a lascivious phalanx. In barely (so to speak) two moments they were close enough to see what wasn’t there. The ones to the left spied Four’s panty, freaked out, and fell to the left side. The ones to the right spied Eleven’s bra and panty and fell to the right side. But the ones in the center, orienting on nude Apoca, no panty, did not freak; their eyeballs merely glazed somewhat. Their reprieve, however, would be temporary.

  Apoca inhaled. Then the louts in the center freaked out and fell, causing the ones following them to trip over their bodies. There was a pile of louts, with arms and legs projecting at odd angles.

  But soon they scrambled back to their feet and resumed their charge. “Let them get close, then fly your broom low over the illusory causeway,” Apoca told Eleven. “So they think it is supporting you.”

  “Got it.”

  “And you vanish at the last moment,” she told Four. “Maybe wade through the shallower water. The sharks won’t see you. We want the louts to follow Eleven and me until they splash.”

  “Splash,” the young witch agreed. She was enjoying this. So were the witches on the island, who were now stripping and flashing galore with multicolored underwear. It looked as if the causeway would lead the oafs right to them.

  Now the louts were hard upon them. “Eeeeek!” Apoca screamed with five e’s, as if trapped. Five e’s was standard for distressed maidens. Louts typically could not count beyond that.

  A lout leaped for her. She grabbed the broom. Fly! she thought fiercely.

  The lout barely (so to speak again) missed her as the broom lurched upward, hauling her after it. She tried to get her legs around it, but missed, then dangled precariously. She glimpsed the clods staring at her thrashing legs and toppling into the sea. Somewhere in the background was a generous hint of pride that she was able to freak them out without panties despite being over a dozen years beyond teendom.

  She clasped the broom handle tightly as it zoomed on up into the air. She got a leg up over it so she could ride it more properly, but the thing plunged back toward the sea. She wrestled it around to point back up, but it bucked as if trying to throw her off.

  As if? “I read its mind,” Nimbus said. “It doesn’t like being ridden by a stranger.”

  “Well, tell it to behave, or I’ll break it into splinters!” She put her hands on the handle so firmly that it was evident she could make a good try at breaking it.

  That threat was effective. The broom started flying straight. Even objects had some instinct of self-preservation, especially when they were magic.

  Apoca looked down at the scene beneath her. The illusory causeway was gone, which was okay because it had done its job. Most of the louts had charged into the water, and the loan sharks were trying to take an arm and a leg from them. The witches ashore were watching and applauding. They loved seeing the louts get ravished or ravaged for a change.

  Most of the louts managed to scramble to the shore and escape the sharks. They didn’t stay. They fled back the way they had come, deserting their comrades.

  Apoca smiled. She doubted that any of these cretins would ever return. Word would spread, and the witches would have one less threat to face. That had been her larger purpose: not merely to thwart the immediate attack but to stop future attacks. That much seemed to be successful.

  But now a lout leader appeared from the rear. He was evidently smart enough to avoid the vanguard, as cunning leaders were. He harangued the fleeing louts and made them stop. “Bleep,” Apoca muttered. “They’ll reorganize.”

  “There are ants and nickelpedes there,” Nimbus said. “I sensed them as we passed. Fly down and I will contact them. There’s good eating available, if they get on it immediately.”

  Apoca hadn’t thought of that. She flew the broom back to the shore and landed where Nimbus told her.

  “Bugs!” Nimbus called mentally. “Pests, vermin, rabble of low degree! You are good for nothing but to annoy. Here is your chance. These louts are not witches. You have no truce with them. Bite them, sting them, harass them, and the witches will be your friends. Get in their pants and give them bleep!”

  There was a surprised pause. The bugs were not telepathic but could receive Nimbus’s projection, as Apoca did. Only they thought it was their own idea.

  Then the louts started dancing and slapping at themselves. “Yow!”

  They had ants in their pants and worse. Soon they fled, their leader included. “It’s almost as if they don’t like getting bitten and stung in the rear,” Apoca said, smiling.

  “Almost,” Nimbus agreed.

  This time the louts really departed. They had a bellyful of reason.

  Apoca took off again. “Thank you, Nimbus. You finished the job for me.”

  “That’s what a friend is for. I am sorry only that I could not get a butt to gouge myself.”

  “Maybe another time.”

  She glided down to the island and landed. “This is Four’s broom,” she said, handing it to Thirteen. “I hope you will return it to her with my thanks.”

  “I will. That was a marvelous show.”

  “Nimbus contacted the local bugs and got them to chomp the louts in their most private parts. We promised that the witches would be friends with the bugs hereafter.”

  “We will be.” Thirteen beckoned to another witch. “Seven, you specialize in nature. The local bugs have just done us a favor.”

  Seven smiled. “I saw. They taught the louts to dance.”

  “We will befriend them. No more stepping on them or poisoning them. They are now our friends.”

  “Got it.” Seven went to spread the word to the other witches of the coven.

  Another witch approached. She whispered in Thirteen’s ear, then walked away.

  Thirteen frowned. “But Ten reports that the monster has arrived, and now we are committed to offering the sacrifice. We were so distracted by your performance that we forgot to depart the island in time.”

  Apoca had forgotten too, but she knew what to do. “I will take care of that detail now. Where is the sacrificial spot?”

  “This way.” Thirteen led her to a stone landing, where the poor girl One stood, hunched in fear. She was terrified but plainly determined to fulfill her role. Her stalwart attitude was to be admired.

  Apoca walked up to her. “Move over. I will handle this.”

  Numbly, the young witch obeyed.

  Apoca glanced at Nolan, who had crossed to the island on his own, probably by turning fish and reverting to human at the shore. He had no fear of sea creatures. He nodded; he knew what to do. He went to Vinia and got a vial from her. Then he walked to the bank and dived into the sea, changing to serpent form in midair. He splashed in, disappearing as the younger witches gaped. He was a handsome man, and he had flashed them for half an instant as he lost his clothing.

  The sharks converged, each one wanting to be the first to brace this new mark. Then they backed off in half a hurry. Apoca wasn’t sure what kind of fish he had changed into, but it surely had ferocious teeth and an attitude to match.

  Meanwhile, the sea monster was coming in. It was huge and ugly, with a mouth just big enough to swallow a tender maiden without straining. It paused, as if a distraction had drifted by, and put its head under the water to investigate. After four-fifths of a pause the head lifted back into the air and the monster resumed forward motion. But it seemed slightly dazed, as if rethinking its purpose. Just so; Nolan had done his bit. In fact, he was now emerging from the water, flashing the witches again before shaking himself dry and dressing. She suspected he liked doing that, seemingly inadvertently, but she was in no position to fuss at him, considering her own dishabille, to put it euphemistically.

  Apoca lifted a hand and waved. “Yoo-hoo, big boy! Over here!”

  The creature spied her and swam in, all several coils of it. It lifted its head clear of the sea and over the landing, slavering. It gaped its ponderous and marble jaws to take her in.

  She stepped forward and kissed the giant lower mandible, putting her power into it.

  The monster froze in place. So did the witches. They had never seen this happen before. It didn’t like this succulent morsel?

  Apoca smiled. “Let me explain what just happened,” she told the monster, knowing the witches were almost equally interested. “My friend Nolan Naga became a fish and fed you a dose of pacification elixir, so you were slow to tackle me. Then I kissed you on the jaw, using my power as a Lips woman. You are now my love slave. Do you understand?”

  The monster hesitated. This experience was evidently new to it. Then slowly it nodded.

  “You will do whatever I ask of you, because you now have no purpose other than doing my will. Here is my will: you will no longer eat any human maidens. When you come here each year, you will kiss them instead. Or rather, accede to their kissing your closed snout. Then you will be rewarded with some other succulent morsel, perhaps an oink or a baby dragon, which you will consume, then go your way, satisfied. You will continue to guard this island, and the witches on it, ensuring that no louts, oafs, or clods boat across to annoy the residents. Any who try it are your fair game. They may not taste as good as maidens, but there is some nutritional value even in louts. Got it?”

  The monster nodded.

  Apoca glanced at Thirteen. “That fatted prig. Feed it to the monster, who is now your friend.”

  Thirteen glanced at Two. “Do it.”

  Two bestrode her broom and flew across the sea to the cauldron. She hauled the heavy morsel out of the hot water and dragged it to the shore.

  Apoca gestured toward that scene. “There’s your meal, serpent, nicely cooked and flavored. Enough to feed thirteen witches or one sea monster. Go for it.”

  The monster went for it. Two heaved the prig up and into the maw. The monster lifted it high, then let it slide down its long throat. It returned sinuously to Apoca.

  “That is the future way of it,” she said, petting it on the snout. “I won’t be here, but my word remains. Do not make me return here to see to it; that would annoy me.”

  The monster bowed its head. It did not want her to be annoyed.

  “Now, go about your business. You surely have other inlets to terrorize.”

  The monster obeyed.

  “I never saw the like,” Thirteen said. “Your kiss tamed the terror.”

  “That’s two of your problems solved,” Apoca said briskly. “Now for the third.”

  The witch was blank. “The third?”

  “You are being boycotted by the warlocks, remember? Will a man enchanted by a witch do?”

  “I suppose. Our interest is in the stork, not the man. Some of those warlocks are creeps.”

  “I will lend you my former love slave Pun Gent, if he agrees. He is cursed to speak only in puns or the equivalent, but in other respects he is all man. Set aside a room in your new home for that matter.” She beckoned Gent, who was always close when not on a task. “Tonight you will serve the witches. They will tell you what to do. You should like it.” He nodded.

  The witch smiled. “It will be done.” Thirteen lifted her voice. “One!”

  The youngest witch, One, scampered close. “Yes?”

  “You were ready to be sacrificed. Now you face a different kind of sacrifice. Take this man to the master bedroom in the haunted house and signal the stork with him. The ghosts will show you where it is. You do know how?”

  “Oh, yes. I have never done it, but we have all studied the moves.” She blushed fetchingly. “You know, in case a warlock should come.” One turned to Gent. “This way, please.” She took him by a hand and led him toward the house. It was clear that she preferred this sacrifice to the other type. Gent, glimpsing her splendid nude body, seemed not at all averse. Apoca had been pretty sure that would be the case.

  She spat out her mini purse, expanded it to convenient size, took out her clothing, and dressed. She, Nolan, and Vinia went with Thirteen to the haunted house. The machine-oriented witch was seeing to Rocker Robot. She was Nine, good at making mechanical things, ranging from self-propelled wagons to simple toys. She was clearly intrigued by the robot.

  The remaining group of them settled into the main room of the haunted house. Eerie light illuminated it, and it was clean and comfortable throughout. There was even a supply of food stored in stasis, tasty as the day it was enchanted. They had a marvelous meal to replace the one they had given the sea monster.

  “I don’t know how we can ever repay you for the favors you have done us this day,” Thirteen said. “You saved our cursed coven from ruin.” The other witches murmured agreement.

  “Just establish amicable relations with the Queendom of Thanx. We support feminism wherever we may find it.”

  “We will certainly do that!”

  There were thirteen bedrooms in the house. Apoca and Nolan used the one that would be assigned to Witch One. It was very nice, with its programmable window looking out at a starry sky.

  But Nolan was restless. “I am concerned about what happens when we find the here plaque, which is bound to be soon because we are running out of paths. How do we handle that? Our mission depends on it. I can’t sleep yet.”

  “I share your dread,” Apoca confessed. “I have no idea how we can persuade a balky Demon to do his job.”

  “Which gives me a notion. If we could get his would-be girlfriend to commit to him, then he might cooperate.”

  “Which merely moves the challenge over one square. How to persuade a balky Demoness to suffer the attentions of a Demon she’s not interested in.”

  His mouth quirked. “I find a balky Lips woman plenty of challenge. A Demoness might even be worse.”

  “Might,” she agreed wryly. “Yet there must be a way. If there’s one thing I retain from my kiss with Chaos, it is that a way exists. We have merely to find it.”

  “That’s been a common theme in our adventures,” he agreed. “Boy seeks Girl and has the means to win her, if he can only figure it out.”