Aftermath

All of the followers had gone, sucked into the girl’s funnel cloud and carried off to god knew where.  What remained lay on the ground, broken.  The restaurant would not be serving again.

I was wondering where Marietta had gone when a dishevelled figure with a lopsided purple hairdo and an old face limped over to me.  We stood and looked at each other for a while, before she said, “You think you’ve won.  But the spell is broken for you, too.”

“I know,” I answered.  “But at least I can live with myself.”

“We’ll see about that,” the witch replied.  She then disappeared, rather against her will, I thought, into a cloud of foul-smelling smoke.