Mint Condition

Mint Condition
Dahlia Joiner, Gregory Cummings, Artimus Rogue, Steede

“Gregory, I don’t think this is such a good idea,” sorceress Dahlia Joiner said to her friend Gregory Cummings as they zoomed toward the Hamptons in his new fire-engine red 1968 Mustang Convertible and first dream car. It was in mint condition with all the factory trimmings. A truly beautiful automobile.

The black vinyl top was down of course, the moist wind washing over them as they drove under the overcast sky.

”What do you mean, Dahlia? It’s raining in the Hamptons. There will be puddles everywhere,” Gregory said, stepping on the gas.

Puddles or still natural water were places where the magical realm and the mundane world overlapped at sunrise and sunset, and could be used as doorways to enter if you could get past the protections. Dahlia and Gregory would have no problem. They were magical folks.

”I mean, Gregory, that cars are frowned on in the magical world. All the metal, exhaust, noise and fumes upset the Fey. You know how they can get, and anytime you pass through a puddle you’re going to be near the Fey. They gather there,” she said to the smiling sorcerer.

”Just listen to that engine,” Gregory said, oblivious to Dahlia’s warnings. Her straight brown hair streamed back in the wind, whipping about her head. She sighed.

Men and their toys.

She punched Gregory in the shoulder.

”Ow!” he cried, turning hurt brown eyes on the sorceress. “Why’d you do that Dahlia?”

”Because you’re not listening to me, Gregory, that’s why. You shouldn’t take your car into the magical realm,” she said, her hazel eyes narrowed.

”Well I can’t afford to park it in the city, Dahlia. I can just put it in my shed at home,” he said sullenly. “I don’t see what the big deal is. It’s not like it’s forbidden or anything.”

”That’s what makes the whole thing so scary, Gregory. NO ONE has a car in the magical world although they aren’t banned. That should tell you something,” she said to him, crossing her arms as they roared down the empty highway.

“Yeah, it tells me I’m going to be the only sorcerer with a car. Cool eh?” he said with a broad smile, a dimple appearing in his right cheek.

Dahlia and Gregory were friends and had been since they were thirteen and “enrolled in camp” which was a euphemism for being inducted into the magical realm and taught the basics. They were both born with magic, and had unknowingly been protected all their lives.

Both were scared to death when they and several other teenagers were suddenly hustled off the big yellow bus in the middle of the woods as the sun was going down and told to step through a puddle. They didn’t want to but were pushed through the water anyway and everything changed.

They were still in the woods, but so were a lot of other strange things. Fairies, elves, gnome, hamadryads to name a few, all chittering and pulling on their clothing, leering and darting at them, falling over in laughter before their “counselor“ pulled out a wand and cast a spell that made music play.

The Fey all started dancing and they were able to pass them without incident, the music moving with them.

That was how they learned about magic.

Later, they learned about the ongoing war. A war they were now part of.

But neither sorcerer nor sorceress were thinking about Antimages, clerics or wars now as they approached a large puddle stretched across the road. Gregory slowed down, then stopped the car, waiting for the sun to touch the horizon and the telltale shimmer to form.

“Gregory . . . “ Dahlia began.

Gregory looked at her, his brown eyes narrowed and mouth set stubbornly.

”This is my car, Dahlia. I’m not leaving it behind in some parking lot I can’t even afford. Those guys drive the cars around. I’m taking it with me, and that’s final,” he declared, his mouth shutting with a snap as the veil began to materialize, making the area around the puddle shimmer and the view beyond seem as if it were being seen through a curtain of water.

Dahlia sighed. Gregory was so fucking stubborn. She had a bad feeling about this. There had to be some good reason why there were no cars in the magical realm.

”There it is . . . let’s go,” Gregory said, flooring the Mustang, Dahlia jerking back in the seat as they shot through the veil, ending up in a forest filled with startled Fey.

The fairy creatures all screeched and ran when the car appeared, rumbling, giving off poisonous exhaust and the aura of cold steel, which was deadly to the Fey.

Gregory watched the departing nymphs, kobolds, fairies, elves and other beings with a smug satisfaction, stopping the car and letting it idle.

”See, they won’t come near us, Dahlia. I told you there wouldn’t be a problem,” he said grinning at her.

Dahlia felt like slapping him. She couldn’t stand when Gregory was right.

*********************************

A kobold ran to a large tree with a hollow in it, hopped up, stuck his head in the hole and chattered something, then dropped back to the ground.

Presently a small, green creature with a face like a naughty, crafty old man appeared in the hollow.

”Vrrrrooom?” it asked.

The kobold nodded its ugly, scaly head.

The little creature turned and chattered down into the tree. It was answered by a great many return chatters. Then it hopped down to the ground and took off with amazing speed in the direction where Dahlia and Gregory were parked.

It hadn’t seen a Vrrrrooom in ages.

*********************************

”See Dahlia, I know what I’m talking about. When the guys see this car,” he said patting the dashboard affectionately, “they’ll flock to me like birds.”

Dahlia rolled her eyes. Gregory was gay and was always trying to come up with new ways to attract men. He wasn’t effeminate however, so he still had to turn down sorceresses from time to time.

”You’re a slut, Gregory,” she hissed at him.

He smirked.

”And a good one,” he agreed, smiling wickedly and getting ready to put the car into drive.

Suddenly he froze, frowning as he looked at his hood

”What the hell is that standing on my hood?” he growled, pointing at a small little green scaly creature about six inches high. It had long sharp claws on its knotted hands and feet, and a rather evil, crafty look on its face as its red eyes stared back at the couple.

Dahlia paled a little, pulling out her wand.

”That’s a Gremlin,” she whispered, staring at the creature. “They destroy anything mechanical. Cold steel doesn’t affect them.”

”What? Destroy what? Look how big it is, Dahlia. It couldn’t destroy a Tonka truck,” Gregory said disparagingly.

The gremlin’s bat-like ears flicked forward and he snarled at Gregory, who yelled, “Get the fuck off my hood before you scratch it!”

The gremlin stared at Gregory for a moment, then slowly smiled a very unpleasant smile, showing a mouthful of small, pointed teeth.

Then it squatted, straining with its eyes closed and mouth stretched. It rotated its buttocks a bit and took a nice little dump on the hood. The pungent deposit was dark green and coiled evenly like soft ice cream, with a little curl on top. It was half as big as the gremlin.

The gremlin looked at its handiwork with satisfaction then at Gregory with an open grin, arching a scaly eyebrow as if to say, “What are you going to do now, asshole?”

Gregory stared at the small steaming turd in outrage, his mouth dropping open then quickly shutting.

“Hey, that’s going to ruin my paint!” he yelled, whipping out his wand, standing up and pointing it at the gremlin over the windshield.

”Gregory . . . don’t!” Dahlia said to him, “let’s just go.”

”No little green lizard thing is going to shit on my new car and get away with it! Blast!” Gregory cried, his wand sending a blast at the gremlin who jumped off the front of the hood untouched and disappeared. The blast scorched the red paint.

”Shit!” Gregory cursed at the new damage.

”Gregory, let’s just go. You can fix it with magic when you get home. Let’s go,” Dahlia urged.

”Fucking gremlin,” Gregory growled dropping back in the seat, “I wish he’d come back here. I’d squish him like a fucking bug.”

Suddenly Dahlia let out a choked noise. Aggravated, Gregory looked at her sharply.

”Now what’s wrong?” he asked her bad-naturedly.

Dahlia pointed a long, shaking finger at the front of the car. Gregory’s brown eyes traveled down her arm, over her wrist and pointed trembling digit, turning toward the hood.

There stood the gremlin, grinning evilly.

And he’d brought friends.

Lots of them.

*****************************

Artimus Rogue was heading back to the Finklenook Institute of Higher Magical Learning and Research after a nice ride on his familiar Steede. Sorcerer and horse were trotting along when screams suddenly filled the air. Steede’s ears flicked forward.

”Sound like someone’s in trouble,” Steede said to the educator.

”So it does,” Artimus replied, not the least bit concerned.

”We should go investigate,” Steede said.

”No, we shouldn’t. I want a shower and I have sheepskins to grade,” Artimus replied, his eyes narrowed. He had enough of handling other people’s problems when he dealt with the damned clerics. He just wanted to get to his quarters and have a shower and a nice, stiff drink.

“It could be clerics,” the horse said, trying to get the sorcerer’s interest.

”If it were clerics, we’d be hearing those infernal prayers,” Artimus replied.

Suddenly there was a loud and definitely female shriek.

”That’s a woman, Artimus. She’s in trouble. Come on,” Steede said, turning in the direction of the scream and galloping toward it full speed.

”Fuck,” Artimus hissed as he helplessly was carried along.

They came to a clearing, and Artimus arched one bushy eyebrow at the scene before him, recognizing the two undergrads.

”I believe that’s Miss Joiner and Mr. Cummings,” he said to Steede, who was staring at the scene in disbelief.

Hundreds of gremlins were swarming all over a red car, ripping pieces from it and slinging them about, while others were busily dragging Dahlia and Gregory across the ground by their legs. Both had lost their wands in the onslaught.

Dahlia was screaming and trying to kick the gremlins off, but they swarmed over her, pulling at her hair and scratching at her.

Gregory was spread-eagle, the gremlins taking turns linking arms three across and bouncing off his abdomen as if he were a human trampoline.

A hissing sound filled the air as all four tires on the Mustang went flat and the hood popped open, gremlins pouring into the engine and ripping out wires and parts delightedly. Gregory howled as the battery landed inches from his head.

Dahlia screamed as the gremlins pulled up her shirt, exposing her large bra-encased breasts for a moment before she threw the offending creatures off, pulling her shirt back down, cursing and flailing her arms before they swarmed over her again.

Artimus arched an eyebrow again at the display.

”Miss Joiner has quite a rack,” he observed, then flicked the reins. “All right. We’ve seen what’s happening. Let’s go Steede.”

“What?” the horse spluttered. “You’re just going to leave them to the gremlins?”

“The idiots deserve it. What the Sons made them think they could bring a car here? No one has a car in the realm. Common sense should have dictated. Obviously it didn’t. And you can’t fix stupid,” the sorcerer replied as the gremlins pulled off one of Dahlia sneakers and flung it away.

.”Artimus . . .” the horse said angrily, his legs stiff. He wasn’t moving one hoof until he helped those two.

The sorcerer sighed, dismounted and pulled out his wand.

”I swear Steede, you are a real pain in the ass sometimes. If I were meant to have a conscience, I would have been born with one,” he said sullenly, walking toward the melee.

Dahlia was on her stomach now, screaming and clutching at the ground, pulling up weeds and grass as the gremlins pulled her toward the thicker part of the forest by her ankles, some riding on her back and yanking out strands of her hair.

Gregory was also on his way to being magicked away, clumps of dirt in his brown hair and little scratches on his face as he screamed, kicked and howled hoarsely as he was dragged along the ground. The car was totally destroyed, resting on nothing but the bare rims, completely stripped, damaged, mangled parts strewn everywhere. There was no way it could be reassembled. When gremlins destroyed something, it stayed destroyed.

Artimus walked up, pointed his wand at the gremlins and lazily said, “Disperse or be fried, fiends.”

The gremlins all froze and looked at Artimus with fear in their little red eyes. All the Fey knew of Artimus Rogue, fierce warrior for the opposition against the Antimage. He had little love for their kind.

Gibbering, the gremlins abandoned their prey, scampering away into the woods. Both Gregory and Dahlia sat up, bruised, battered and streaked with earth. Dahlia looked up at the severe, black-clad sorcerer, who looked down at her with disdain, shaking his head slightly.

”You’re both damned fools to bring a car in here. Now get rid of what’s left of it. We don’t want the realm polluted like the mundane world,” he said coldly, turning and walking back toward Steede.

Dahlia got to her feet and looked after the sorcerer. Gregory stood too, looking at the sad remains of his once mint 1968 Mustang Convertible.

“My car,” he groaned, his voice cracking with despair as he picked his way through the carnage. He picked up a warped, broken side mirror and nearly burst into tears.

”Thank you, Mr. Rogue,” Dahlia called to Artimus as he stiffly mounted Steede.

He looked at the disheveled sorceress, his black eyes narrowed in distaste.

”If you really want to thank me, Miss Joiner, next time find some other place to get yourself killed for your stupidity rather than my path,” he snapped, then flicked the reins, cantering off, his cloak rippling behind him.

A tortured groan rose from the direction of the traumatized Gregory.

“My car . . . what am I going to do, Dahlia?” Gregory asked her, splaying his hands helplessly.

Dahlia turned, raked a hunk of grass and soil out of her hair and walked toward him.

”The first thing we’re going to do is find our wands, the next thing is pile all this debris together so we can send it back to the other side at sunrise . . .”

She let out a little sigh. They were no where near a transport point.

” . . .then we have a twenty mile walk back to Finklenook. So let’s get a move on before it gets totally dark and the Fey have at us,” she said, beginning to look around the ground as the light continually faded.

It was a good thing Mr. Rogue had come along when he did. This could have had a very bad ending.

Stupid Gregory.

She was going to hex him as soon as she got her hands on her wand.

****************************

Artimus was silent as he and Steede raced across the open fields toward the institute. His thoughts turned back to Dahlia and the little peep show he’d witnessed

”She really does have a nice rack,” he mused, flicking the reins again so Steede ran even faster.

Despite how intellectually deficient Miss Joiner appeared to be, that rack might be worth a bit of further examination..