When
I opened the cage and released the girl, she howled past me, a cyclone powered
by atomic pain. I crouched against the
wall and covered my ears but I could still hear her screams, and the terrified
shouts of those in the lost restaurant, as she raged deadly witness against
them.
The restaurant would not be serving again.
After it was over a dishevelled figure with a lopsided
purple hairdo and an old face limped up to me. We stood and looked at
each other for a while, until she said, “You think you have 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,” she replied. She then disappeared into a cloud of foul-smelling
smoke--rather against her will, I thought.
I checked my back; the fairy wings were still there. I would not be going home just yet.
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