Vicky and Master Jabber were both lying in her four poster bed. Vicky’s hair was tousled, stray dark strands lying like tangled wisps of smoke on the shoulders of her white cotton nightgown. She had a confused, thoughtful expression on her face. Master Jabber, wearing only his light-pink long johns, was searching around trying to find his wand.

“I know I . . . I had it here somewhere.”

"What are we doing, Jabber?” Vicky asked.

“Before we discuss that, you know what the problem with your bed is?” Jabber said, as he shifted like a worm, back and forth beneath the covers. He sank noticeably deeper. “Your mattress, it’s limp, no support at all. I bet it’s swallowed my wand somewhere. It’s as bad as quicksand.”

Vicky laughed. “I’m serious. I care about Theodore. He’s a good angel.”

Jabber stopped looking for his wand, and tried half-successfully to sit up further, leaning back against the headboard, though still getting partly absorbed by the heavy comforter, soft mattress, and veritable garden of throw pillows that surrounded them. “Well, he kind of has to be doesn’t he?”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t know. He was my guardian angel for the Absentee’s sake!”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything . . . it has everything to do with it. You don’t marry the ex-wife of the person you’ve been guarding . . . it’s, it’s incestuous!”

“Oh come on Jabber, that’s going a little far.”

“Is it?” Jabber crossed his arms, frowning. “Just think about it. He must have been watching you and me together for years before we separated. Did he get off on it or something?” All at once the magician gave an exclamation of pleasure as he reached beneath himself and pulled out his wand from beneath his posterior. “That’s the ticket! Didn’t even feel it down there.”

“I think I’ve figured it out,” Vicky said, the thoughtful expression returning to her face.

“What’s that?” Jabber said, studying his wand.

Vicky pursed her lips before replying. “When I’m with you I feel better about myself. I’m a demon born in the Nether Regions, a denizen of the fiery pits of Hell. The very purpose of my existence is to seduce men and get them cast into damnation–I mean, it used to be when God was still around but you understand my point–and yet when I’m with you, I feel, I don’t know . . . ”

“Morally superior?” Jabber offered.

“Exactly!” Vicky said. “I’m a thousand year old temptress but compared to you I might as well be a new born angel.”

Jabber nodded. “I completely understand. I’m the same way with slugs. I may be a crotchety old magician that no one likes but at least I don’t leave slime behind wherever I go . . . that’s why I love pouring salt on them and watching them shrivel.” Jabber pretended to pour something on his lap with his wand when he said this, cackling lightly to himself.

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Vicky laughed and pushed him in the shoulder. “Please, this isn’t a joke.”

Jabber laughed with her. “I’ll tell you what, if you and I ever got back together, I’d make sure your entire house was limp-free. I’d replace all the cushions and mattresses.”

“Are you calling my house limpy?” Vicky said, a playful glint in her eyes.

“I’m not sure if that is an actual word,” Jabber teased, “but yes, limpy would be a good descriptor.”

“Okay then, get the hell out of my limpy house. Go on, get out of here!” She gave him a light shove.

“Of course, madam. . . before I go, however, I do have one question. Will we, um, do this again?” He looked at her hopefully.

Vicky glanced down at her hands and then smiled up at Jabber. “We’ll see.”

“Huzzah!” Jabber jumped out of bed, practically prancing.

“Now get out!” Vicky threw a pillow at him.

***

Jabber’s home was something of a cross between a little castle and a large house. The previous owner had had delusions of nobility and had designed the castillo with its own small moat (a koi pond now), drawbridge (door to the garage), and little turrets (these were actually turrets). He had even tried paying the neighbors to put thatch straw on their roofs so that when he looked down on the neighborhood, it would feel like his own tiny kingdom. Since it’s very difficult to get people to agree to be peasants without large sums of money or a standing army, this scheme didn’t go as planned, and the self-styled baron eventually exiled himself to Lillipunani, a country of miniature Amazon warriors.

When Jabber got back to his house, all the lights were out and he let himself in by the kitchen door. Making the tip of his wand glow to light his way, he gave a startled shout when he came face to face with his golem, standing like a statue watching the back door with his empty stone eye sockets.

“Where the hell have you been?” the golem asked.

“What?”

“Do you know what time it is?”

“Have you been waiting here all night?” Jabber brushed past the golem, heading for the spiral staircase. “I was at Fokso’s party. It got late.”

The golem followed him, the clacking of his granite feet echoing up and down the hall. “No, no, no, don’t try to pull that on me, you didn’t make me yesterday . . . this isn’t the time for after parties, it isn’t the time for a regatta, fox hunting, or troll baiting–it’s the witching hour Jabber. ”

Jabber waved his hand in denial as he began climbing the stairs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The golem climbed up behind him. “Oh yes you do. Who’s the lucky witch?”

“What?” Jabber pretended not to hear as he reached the landing.

“Whose bellows have you been pumping?”

“It was just a party.”

“Come on Jabber . . . Whose cauldron have you been stirring? Where did you park your broom tonight? Who’s been handling your wand? Whose spellbook did you crack open? Which witch have you been making dark magic with?”

Jabber reached his arched chamber door. It creaked as he opened it. He turned to face his golem.

“You really want to know?”

“Yes! Who . . . Have . . . You . . . Been . . . Fae-ing?”

Jabber shut the door in the golem’s face.