The waiting room at Babington Dental Delivery Station—Babington D.D.S. to the human world—had never been so crazy busy. Betty peaked through the only door that separated her dental delivery rooms, transition station, and tooth fairy containment labs from the packed waiting room and surveyed the myriad of witches, warlocks, and Shifters waiting to see her. Most witches and Shifters didn’t need her services very often. Both a benefit, and the shame of her renowned witch doctor family name, was being a witch doctor dentist that wasn’t needed.
Betty was not like a witch doctor cosmetic surgeon, such as her brother Bart. Some might think a witch doctor cosmetic surgeon was an oxymoron because witches don’t age after a certain point until they are on the verge of expiring. Being vain creatures, witches and warlocks used the services of a witch doctor cosmetic surgeon for enhancements and improvements—because not every witch or warlock is perfect. The most common reason Bart Babington got a call was to help a witch or warlock who's encountered a spot of trouble and needed to be restored to their former self—a very common occurrence.
Nor was Betty a witch doctor, alchemist and apothecary, like her sister Betsy—the most powerful of all witch doctors. Betsy’s prowess in concocting potions and welding the power of transmutations put her in the category of the greatest healers of all time. Betsy spent her days focusing on the cutting edge of spells and developing medicinal products for the magical world. Her potions company’s products, a world-renowned brand, were available in every corner store, and on Colossus.com.
Betty, on the other hand, was a witch doctor dentist—like no witch in her family before. Not being in demand by the magical world was one of the prime reasons she’d moved to the tiny town of Rabbit Hash, Kentucky. A cute little ink spot along the Ohio River composed of ten buildings—the main one being Rabbit Hash General Store—made the small hamlet her perfect escape from everything and everyone. This place is where she didn’t have to deal with anything except being a mom and hatching tooth fairies.
“Psst, Millie,” Betty whispered to the back of her assistant’s short cropped black hair.
Millie spun around in her chair, with the office phone cradled between her cheek and collar bone, raised her eyebrow in acknowledgement, and threw out her hands, palms up in her typical ‘what do you want’ look?
Pointing backwards toward her office, Betty continued, “Come see me when you’re off the phone.”
Nodding and waving her off, Millie spun back around. “Mr. Thatcher, we’ve got a waiting room full of folks…. Well, waiting.” Her Brooklyn accent matched her bedside manner. “Yes, yes. I see. Well, whatever you want. I ain’t making no promises about how long your boy will have to wait. But, sure, come on in.”
Clicking the phone down, Millie stood and slid the glass partition, opening her space to the rest of the waiting room. The low hum of John Mayer’s anthem Waiting on the World to Change hit her like bad breath and she grimaced. “Listen up creatures. I’ve got to step away from my desk.”
She snapped her fingers and tapped the counter with long, pink, pointy nails. Her large grey tabby cat familiar, hopped to the exact spot, perched on the counter like a statue, and whispered out of the side of his mouth, “How you holding up today, cutie patootie?”
Millie smiled and patted his head twice. “Frank Sinatra here is in charge. Don’t touch my window, or I will know.” She raised her eyebrows and swept the room with a glaring scowl that marred her round, porcelain face and pink-tinted, pursed lips. Slamming the glass shut, Millie turned around to exit and ran smack into Job Barker, Chief of the Containment Lab.
“Good Goddess, Job. How the hell did you get in here? You’ve got to stop that. You’re like a shadow, but real and it’s creeping me out.” Millie rubbed her forehead.
“Well, you were giving the waiters out there ‘what for’ and I did not want to be a part of that dress down. So, I slinked in, hoping not to be noticed.” Job grinned and shrugged.
“Good job, Job. You achieved your purpose. Now, I’ve got things to do, so...” her prompt fell flat.
Job twisted around to see if someone was behind him, then gave her a blank stare.
She waited a beat longer, her eyes widening. “Oh, for Goddess’ sakes, what do you want?”
“Oh,” giggling, Job crossed his arms. “Yes, I see what you mean. I never said why I invaded your space. Dummy me. I missed that one. Sometimes I think people can read my mind. I’d love to read minds. Not a gift many warlocks have I know, but how fabulous. I mean, to walk around and be able to see what people are thinking. Like poof, I see inside your brain.”
“You're rambling again. I still don’t have a clue how the heck I can help you at this moment. Not in the future. Not help you read my mind, because honestly, right now, you would not like what is going through my mind. It’s not kind in the least.” Millie tapped her toe double-time.
“Ha. Right, I see there. You’re annoyed. That’s good. I mean kinda like reading your mind, but not really ‘cause you had to tell me first. But none-the-less a tiny bit thrilling.” Job let his arms flail back and forth in grand gestures when he talked. It was both distracting and, over the top, irritating.
“Why are we still here? I mean right here, standing in this moment discussing your asinine desire to read minds—like a gazer. No way you are or will ever be that blessed. Maybe cursed, but Goddess, help us all, if you can see the future. I’m not sure we’d survive that.” Millie pushed past her co-worker. “So, Job, I’m still not sure why you’re here, but the boss needs me, so yeah. I gotta go.”
“So sorry. Yes. The boss. She’s great, right? I mean, she makes me nervous, but in a more like excited nervous way.” Job tittered.
“I thought that was your natural state.” Millie smirked.
“Good one. Yes. I guess I do come across as a bit of a nervous nelly.” Job smoothed his thinning hair.
“Perfect. Now we’ve established that little factoid. I’ll be on my way.”
“But wait. Just one quick question.” Job wrung his hands.
“Hit me.” Millie rolled her eyes.
“The mail.” His head bobbled like a plastic figurine.
Millie nodded back at him, in silence, and questioned with her hands.
“Silly me. I’m doing it again. Trying to read your mind. Or, ooo, maybe you were trying to read mine. That’s would be sooooo interesting.” Job's revelation raised his eyebrows.
“No. No, Job. I’m not trying to read your convoluted, crazy mind. Ugh. Please tell me what the heck you are talking about and what you need. What the heck is your actual question? Honestly, I’d rather curse myself than continue this conversation.” Millie drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes.
Job giggled, again, under his breath, “So funny. See, I can tell you're irritated with me, again.”
“Job!” Millie yelled, and yellow flames formed on her arms and legs, letting minuscule sparks fly out toward their target. “Get to your point, now. Or I will give you a flippin’ tail. And when I’m this pissed off, I can’t guarantee what kind of weird shit my spells are going to spit out.”
“Yes. Well, I was wondering if the mail has arrived today.” Job’s smile leaned to one side, like his head, as he wrung his hands faster.
“Really. That’s the whole reason for this exchange, and losing the last few minutes of my life.” Millie blinked.
“Yes, I suppose so.” Job went back to crossing his arms and rubbing his elbows.
“No. Job. The mail has not arrived. It comes every day. Same times. And if you could tell time, you’d recognize that you’re fanning about here asking me this pointless question about an hour or three too soon.” More yellow sparks emanated from Millie’s skin. “Hey, genius, you’ll know exactly when I’ve processed the mail because you’ll see it magically appear in your lab. Just like yesterday, and the day before that. Did you see anything in there this morning, Job?”
“No.” He took a step back.
“No. Exactly. No, because it’s not flippin’ here. You don’t have to be a freakin’ mind reader to figure this one out, now do ya? Get out of my way before I bring a wrath down on you that will make reading your mind like walking in a pool of Jell-O. You got me?”
“Pft… who got up on the wrong side of the broom this morning?” Job chuckled.
“Oh, my Goddess. One day I’m truly going to snap on you, and could blow all of Rabbit Hash sky high just to destroy you.”
She grabbed a large gift basket of baked goods sitting on the corner of her desk and strode off, leaving ‘ole blue eyes’ staring down the waiting patients, and Job shaking with nervous laughter.
“Yeah. You wanted to see me.” Millie didn’t pause at the door, but walked straight to the walnut desk and plopped the large woven basket of homemade sweets on the edge.
The witch doctor dentist stared up at her short, ‘wanna-be-badass’ assistant and smiled. “Yes, I wanted to see you, Millie. But first, are you okay?”
“Yes. No. Not really. I’m going to curse Job, if you don’t. I mean, I want to throw a small, simple bubble around myself that he can never, I mean ever, penetrate. Would that be cool with you?” Millie huffed.
Betty beamed at her overly expressive friend. “Listen, I know he’s frustrating and I’m sorry about that. But...”
“Oh, here we go with the buts,”
“Millie, come on. He’s annoying. I got you. But he was my dad’s assistant, and I feel obligated to keep him around. Besides, who else would want to sit all day and most nights waiting for teeth to hatch?”
“I guess. I don’t understand why we need anyone. Teeth hatch all on their own.” Millie moaned.
“Most do. But some need a little help. So, we need him. Especially now. It’s crazy. That’s why I wanted to chat. I need to make sure we’ve got this all under control.” Betty brushed her long fingers across her eyebrows.
“What under control? Out there? The waiting room? Seriously, I’ve got that covered. No one makes a move without me saying so. Besides, Frank Sinatra is watching them, and no one, I mean no one, gets by ‘ole blue eyes’.” She propped her hands on her waist and threw her curvy hips to one side in her best sassy superwoman pose.
“No, no. Millie. Trust me. Because I completely trust you. I don’t doubt you’ve got everything under control in the waiting room. I’m talking about why the heck do we have so many patients—in the waiting room?” Betty paused and leaned up in her chair, searching her assistant’s emerald eyes for answers. “I mean, what the heck is going on? This is weird, right? I really think something big is happening.”
“I guess so. It’s kinda off the charts. But we witches are bound to see it all at one point in time, right? You know, ‘cause we live for like hell and ever.” Millie snorted.
“I guess,” unconvinced, Betty groaned. “Good Goddess, I mean, I didn’t sign up for this. When I became a witch doctor dentist, it was basically to piss everyone off, and ensure that I would never have to worry about the heavy side of witch doctoring stuff—like disfigurement or death. I just want to raise Birdie and live my life in peace.”
“You worry too much, Betty. I mean, why worry? Yeah, we’ve got more than our fair share of aging witches and Shifters right now. But there’s nothing we can do about that, right? Maybe they’re all from the Renaissance or even the Enlightenment Generation. Old as dirt.” Millie cackled.
“Nice, Millie. That’s so rude. I guess you could be right. Maybe we’re seeing the end of an era. Or eras,” Betty pondered.
“We could start keeping track.” Millie stood up, considering the prospect. “I mean like flat out asking their actual ages. That might send some witches in particular into a full-on panic, though.”
“Hell no. I do not want to open that can of worms. It’s bad enough that we know how close to death some are by how many teeth left in their third set of chompers. I can’t deal with the rest of the details.” Betty flopped her head into her hands.
“Okay. It’s time. You need to get back out there. I mean, how boring is this conversation?” Millie settled herself next to the gift basket and untied the big blue satin bow. “I get it. You’ve sworn off all male creatures, but… and hear me out on this, a bit of fun would definitely alleviate some stress in your life. And you might actually have to think about something other than these concocted worries about a shift in the magical world and everyone being on the verge of death. Morbid.”
Betty puffed. “Well, that sounds appealing, but have you looked around town lately? I mean, everyone is either already paired up, too young or too old, or not my type.”
“Are you sure you even know what your type is?” Millie fiddled with the basket of treats, picking through each one like a quality inspector. “Oh, my Goddess, I’ve got it. Job. I think he’s got a big crush on you. You could totally go out with him.”
“Shut up, Millie. That is not funny at all.” Betty’s gag reflex kicked in and she covered her mouth.
“Seriously, I can tell. He totally digs you.” Millie hooted.
“I’ll pass. Thank you very much. And that is not funny. Besides, he does not dig me. It was my dad he adored.” Betty laced her hands together and propped her chin on her knuckles.
Millie snorted and offered her a large blueberry muffin with streusel topping.
“No, thank you. What is that?” Betty waved off the delicate treat.
“This?” Millie scooted the gift basket toward Betty. “Granny Franny dropped it off this morning. Rabbit Hash’s very own master kitchen witch is spreading the love. These are to die for. I mean, I can’t eat them because just looking at this stuff makes me think my ass is getting bigger—even though that’s like next to impossible for a witch my age. And don’t get any ideas! I’m not aging, so leave me out of your crazy theories. I avoid these things like the plague because I want to.”
“Paranoid, much?” Betty shook her head.
“No. Just practical.” Millie tossed the muffin back in the basket. “Do you think Granny Franny is the woman in that human story about eatin’ those two kids who got lost in the woods? What was their names? Myrtle and Handsome?”
“No. I do not think Granny Franny eats human kids. Geez. And the story was Hansel and Gretel.”
“Uh. You never know about witches. Maybe she doesn’t eat them, but she wants us to eat them. Baked into all these goodies.” Millie wiggled her eyebrows. “I think I’m right about her. I like the sound of Myrtle and Handsome way better for a story. Hansel and Gretel, are you kidding? Not a good title?”
“No. Not kidding. Maybe you’re the one who should get out more often.” Betty laughed. “Look who’s creating stuff out of thin air. Poor Granny Franny. At least, I’m not making up outlandish fairy tales about old witches. Trust me, there is something changing here. I see it, but it has nothing to do with an old kitchen witch and her baskets of treats.”
Millie’s lungs swelled and she puffed. “Too bad, really. That would be kind of great.”
“What? If Granny Franny were eating human children?” Betty took a muffin and turned it over in her hand.
“No. Well, yeah. That would be kinda crazy funny, too, in a sick and twisted way. But I was talking about if Granny Franny was like this mad old mountain witch, making everyone lose their teeth so she could grind them up as flour, and use them to bake with.” Rubbing her hands together in the evil villain kind of way, Millie bugged her eyes out and stared at Betty.
“Where do you come up with this stuff?”
“It’s all right in here, baby. This magical brain of mine works overtime on the crazy what ifs in this sleepy little town. I mean, what else do we have going on? Nothing! Which is why I also know — unless you’re a secret gazer, you kook — you can’t ‘see’ a damn thing coming.”
“Really.” Betty’s sarcasm was thick.
“Yeah. I’ve imagined every wack-a-doodle thing that could happen in this town. Nothing is getting by me.”
Betty stood up and shrugged her shoulders. “Totally sound logic, Millie. You’re completely right. It’s a feeling I get sometimes, nothing more.” She hated lying to her most trusted friend. Betty could see people’s thoughts and maybe that’s what had her on edge. She knew too much about too many folks. At least, no one but Gnomelder and Ginger knew about the burden of her glasses, and she was determined to make sure no one else ever did.
“What’s up with everyone today, anyway? All these seeing the future and mind reading obsessions are really getting under my crawl.” Millie’s exasperated sigh complimented her eye roll.
“Wait a minute, who said anything about reading minds?” Betty stopped sorting the paper mess on her desk.
“Are you kidding? Job, your wanna-be boyfriend, was just in my space rambling on about how awesome it would be to read minds. Wondering if I could read his, and then if he could read mine. Oh, my Goddess, that was a painful moment. I mean the poor warlock couldn’t find his way out of a paper bag, much less read someone’s mind.”
Betty gazed straight through her assistant, imagining if the glasses, her glasses—her father’s glasses, fell into the wrong hands. What could happen? What would happen?
“Betty. Betty.” Millie snapped her fingers. “Hey. What is wrong with you now? Look, I’m sorry about the ‘boyfriend’ comment. I didn’t think you’d get that bent out of shape.”
Betty shook her head. “I’m not mad. It’s nothing. I got lost in my own thoughts. Hey, don’t worry about Job. He’s harmless, and does not want to be my boyfriend.”
“Yeah. You’re probably right. You don’t think I’m scared of Job, do you?” Millie screeched, doubling over in a laughing fit. “That’ll be the day.”