“Motherfucker. Shit. Damn. That brass-balled bitch! I’ll turn her into a toad one day, don’t you doubt me.” Jesse’s profanity-laden threats continued as she threw clothes haphazardly into a suitcase laying open on the bed. “I’m gonna curse her boobs to sag to her ankles and give her wrinkles the size of the Grand Canyon.”

Larry reclined at the head of the bed on top of a pile of pillows. He listened to Jesse’s angry dialog with half an ear. She’d been alternately cursing Litha to the bowels of Hell and spewing lewd comments about the sexual favors Litha must have granted the crooked Councilman to get such a quick trail, verdict, and reassignment for them.

“I hope her hoo-ha freezes shut while that prick’s dick—”

“Jesse. Jesse? JESSE!” Larry barked to add emphasis to his words.

“What?!” Jesse abandoned her packing efforts and sank onto the bed with a groan.

“Maybe we should talk about our next assignment. I mean, it sounds like a cushy gig even if it is in some backwater town in Connecticut. How much work can there be at a supernatural scrapyard full of old, broken-down magical machinery?”

Jesse ran her fingers in a familiar pattern over the hand-sewn squares of the quilt Mabel had made for her. Mabel’s death had precipitated this whole cluster-fuck. And, no matter what Larry said, she’d had a hand in that by missing the warning signs of deceit and treachery within the coven and by not demanding answers from Mabel about her concerns.

Larry was right about their next assignment, though, although to call Bridgeport a backwater was stretching it. Of course, while the human population of the city was large, the supernatural one was tiny. Jesse’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

“What is there to talk about? We’re being sent to the magical equivalent of Siberia.” Jesse’s hands smoothed at the quilt, unconsciously seeking what comfort it offered. “Sid told me after the meeting that the last scrapyard manager disappeared about a month ago.” She huffed a frustrated sigh. “He probably packed his bags and took off for greener pastures. Or maybe he died of boredom.”

Nodding sharply, Jesse stood and resumed her packing. “Anyway, it makes no difference to me. I’m done being a ‘good witch’. In fact, I’m done being any kind of witch. I’m retiring. I’ll go to this stupid scrapyard. I’ve got nowhere else to go right now. But don’t count on me for any help running it.”

Larry only just managed to hold back a massive eye roll. He couldn’t avoid an annoyed sneeze, though. Then he sneezed again, for good measure.

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“Hey! Don’t you get snot all over Mabel’s—my quilt, you disgusting creature.”

Just to be contrary, Larry wiped his nose on the quilt. “Listen, Jesse, I know it sucks that we lost our High Priestess and best friend. Don’t forget, she was my magical partner so I’m grieving her loss, too. And it really sucks that Litha, the witch-bitch, pulled off a coven coup right under our noses. But there’s nothing we can do about it right now. If we give up, then she wins. And dammit, I’m not about to let her win. She may have won this battle, but the war isn’t over. She’ll trip up. We’ll keep digging and try to find a sympathetic Council member to hear our case.” Larry cocked his head. “Or at least one that she’s not sleeping with.”

Jesse snorted. “Might be hard to do, though. She’s probably slept her way through most of the male members of the Council.”

“Let’s not be sexist now. She’s probably slept with one or two of the female Council members, as well.” Larry curled his lips in a doggie smile, his massive pink tongue hanging over white teeth. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course.”

The atmosphere in the room lightened. Jesse’s guffaws bounced off the low ceiling while Larry’s canine chuckle rumbled in accompaniment.

After a while, once their laughter had abated, Jesse amended her plans. “Alright, I’ll just semi-retire, then. I’ll do what’s needed to run the magical side of things at the scrapyard, but you know that’s likely not going to involve more than keeping an eye on things. I’ll have a ton of time to pursue my non-magical interests.” A thoughtful expression settled on her face. “I’ve always wanted to play Bingo. And they have Greek diners in Connecticut. I love diner food. They usually have Early Bird specials for seniors.”

Larry’s jaw dropped in disbelief. “Bingo? Senior specials? You’re not an old lady! You’re not even human! As a witch, you’ve barely reached middle age. You’ve got centuries of magical years left.”

“I told you, I’m semi-retiring. Those prime of life magical years can blow. It’s my turn to do things I enjoy—and I like a lot of human things. I’ve just never had the time to do most of them. Besides, you know I can make myself look whatever age I wish.” Jesse stroked her dark blond hair. “Do you think I should go with a silver-purple color? Or maybe white with a bluish tint? Glasses? Cane or walker? Oooh, how about one of those nifty disability scooters?”

Larry couldn’t help dissolving in amazed laughter. Jesse joined him.

Once their mutual mirth abated, Larry wheezed. “You’re being ridiculous, and you know it.”

“No, I’m not, and no I don’t.” Jesse sat up, hand on her side, which had a stitch in it from her prolonged belly laughs.

“Yes, you are.” Larry sniffed in disdain.

“No, I’m really not. Semi-retired, remember?”

Jesse and Larry’s bickering continued through their packing and only abated once they reached the Salem Crossroads, where they would travel through the ley lines to their new assignment.

“Ready Jesse?” Larry padded onto the ley station platform.

“Ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

“No one says that anymore. That’s so old-fashioned.”

“Well, I’m an old lady, now, so if the orthopedic shoe fits ....”

Larry rolled his eyes and snorted.

Jesse grinned and followed Larry off of the platform into the ley line.