“You can’t be… You mean…? But we’re not…”
Nodding her head, Fate answered the question Momma June hadn’t been able to finish. “Yes, all three girls will be Queen Dragons even though you and Hank are not Royals.”
“But Dragon Queens no longer…”
“No, they do exist– they were never really gone.”
“But…”
Holding up the index finger of her left hand, Fate continued without missing a beat. “Sure, they haven’t been around for centuries but never forget that the Great Goddess and the Universe always have a plan. Yes, we are all well aware that no Queen Dragons have been born over the last three hundred years. Well, that is because the Universe and the Goddess did a bit of hocus pocus, and the lovely ladies that were born with Royal blood never grew into Dragon Queens.” She nonchalantly shrugged. “It was the best way to ensure the safety of the bloodline.” Shaking her head, she scoffed, “I thought we should’ve held our ground and fought the good fight, but, well, I was outvoted.”
Needing to sit down before she fell down, Momma June didn’t even bother giving Fate a wide berth. Actually, she brushed her shoulder against the Omnipotent Being’s arms as she made a beeline for the kitchen table, pulled out a chair, and unceremoniously plopped right down.
Looking up at Fate, she blew out a long breath, then nodded, “Okay, what’s the punchline?”
“Punchline?” Fate looked totally confused and even more beautiful, which made Momma June want to laugh out loud, but there wasn’t time. She needed details –and she needed them sooner rather than later.
“Yeah, you didn’t make an appearance in my dream, then show up here in the home my Mate built for me just to tell me I’m gonna be the mother of Dragon Queens.” Lying her palms flat on the table, my sweet, bold as brass balls mother looked Fate right in the eyes and repeated, “You don’t make house calls. So, why are you really here?’
Laughing so hard the entire cottage shook, Fate slapped the front of her thigh and hooted, “I like you, June Dellencourt. You’re a tough one. I see why the Universe and the Goddess knew you could handle being the mother of Royalty.”
Moving so fast that all Momma saw was a rainbow blur with camo on the bottom half, Fate sat across from her and mirrored her pose –palms on the table and all. Giving her a quick wink, the Deity said, “You’re right. Precautions will have to be taken. The girls will be at risk as soon as their Magic reaches maturity. That’s why I’m here. We gotta be three steps ahead and ready for anything.” Standing up, she motioned toward the door, smiled, and pretty much ordered, “So, let’s get to gettin’. I don’t come to Earth often, and the dry desert air is messing with my curls.”
Following the Deity, not bothered that she was walking down Main St. in her nightie, robe, and fluffy slippers, Momma June did as she was told. It took less than an hour for the town of Dragoon Bootay to be surrounded on all sides –even above the ground and below –by a Magical Forcefield to end all Magical Forcefields. Nothing changed on the inside of the ‘Bibbidi Bobbidi Bubble’ –as Fate called it, but on the outside –boy howdy, everything changed. To anybody walking, driving, scooting, or flying by, it looked like an atomic bomb had been detonated dead center of beautiful downtown Dragoon Bootay.
(No, the atomic bomb hadn’t been invented yet. It’s a reference I know you can look up if you haven’t already seen pictures. Duh. I might have practiced using a sword with Joan of Arc, but I’ve kept up with the times. Duh.)
Fast forward a decade, and that was the first time my mom and dad had the honor of meeting Carol. She was then and still is the Baba Yaga, the big, bad, all-powerful Witch of all Witches. (Think –cool chick who can smite any Witch, anywhere, anytime, for any reason –and pretty much anyone else if she has a mind to. Well, anyone or anything but a born, not made, Dragon Queen, and that makes me and mine pretty damn lucky.) She was there to ensure the Bibbidi Bobbidi Bubble was still functioning at peak performance and to top up the tanks with a Magic only she was given the Power to create.
Now, I had been told the stories hundreds of times. I knew that either mom or dad went out to meet the Baba Yaga every ten years or so, and that it had been about ninety years since the Bibbidi Bobbidi Bubble had been created. However, as of that moment, I had never had the honor of accompanying them.
I had asked to go, after all. I had even begged. But my parents always said they would know when the time was right… When I was ready.
Let me say, and I cannot emphasize it enough. There is no way in Heaven, Earth, or Hell to ‘be ready’ to meet the Baba Yaga. Carol is one of a kind in every possible way and a few not even the Great Goddess herself has imagined.
Thankfully, I was a little girl — well, young in Dragon years — when I came face-to-face with Carol. I think that helped, as it made me accept what I saw without too many questions, because my mind. Was. Blown.
My mom and I happened to be out for a walk, getting my first taste of what being the Reigning Dragon Queen, aka the oldest, entailed. She was showing me the Magical Power Centers, the locations of which were known by only members of the Council, when the Earth quite literally shook. Unfortunately, an earthquake would’ve been much easier to handle, because I was nowhere near prepared for the chaotic, magnanimous, earth-shattering entrance of the one and only Witch of All Witches.
Not only were her bleach blonde bangs teased so high that carb-eating fairies –another thing I hadn’t known existed until that moment –were using them as a skateboard ramp for their annual Muggerfugger Games and Tri-Realm Festival, but her clothes were so perfectly retro-eighties that I kept waiting for her to Magick up a microphone on a stand adorned with a myriad of silk scarves and start bopping around, as she belted out Cyndi Lauper’s ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’. Goddess knew she was dressed for the part.
Oh crap! I almost forgot! Of course, you have no idea what I’m talking about, but trust and believe that you’ll be glad I remembered.
Imagine this, if you will: underneath the teased, sprayed, and gravity-defying bangs, a true sight to behold –she had a head full of blinding blond hair that looked more like cotton candy than well, hair. It had literally been bleached to within an inch of its life and was only outdone by the bluest, frostiest eyeshadow that had ever been painted on a set of eyelids, with black kohl liner and wings that would’ve made Billy Idol weep. Then came the blush. Her high, perfectly sculpted cheekbones were painted to within an inch of their lives with rouge the color of Pepto Bismol, and her lips were absolutely slathered in white lipstick with so much glitter that I wondered if the Elves on the North Pole had enough for the Christmas decorations they needed to craft.
Then came her outfit –and oh, what an ensemble it was. There was a fluorescent orange mini skirt with bright purple vertical stripes that was so short I was worried that her Macchiato was about to make an unscheduled appearance. As if that wasn’t enough, there was also a yellow crop top with a mosaic of metallic silver stars that showed off her well-toned abs, tights a hue of neon blue that nature had never intended, and a headband in the brightest neon green I have ever seen and never imagined.
But the pièce de résistance was the plethora of jelly bracelets. There were so very many. I mean, a lot. There were enough to detain a horde, a herd, or a whatever-you-call-them group of chittering, chattering Chipmunks –and they were stacked haphazardly but somehow perfectly from her wrist to elbow with so many colors and designs I literally got motion sickness, and I wasn’t moving.
To put the cherry on the sundae that was my first meeting with Carol, she came riding down the Main St. of Dragoon Bootay, TX on a wave of glowing purple smoke –and it didn’t stop there. That violet fog tossed out puffs of sparkling blue bubbles that exploded in a cloud of darting and dashing rainbow sprinkles every one-point-three second, and the whole fantastical production was whooshed through the ether by Mystical winds that made the bands of a hurricane look like a mini, travel blow dryer on low. As you can imagine, at least I hope you can imagine, the chaos that was the Baba Yaga’s grand entrance had the Dragon Queen with whom I share my soul pushing her talons through the ends of my favorite ruby red All Star Converse tennis shoes and into the ground beneath my feet to keep my Dragon booty from making a very painful collision with the sidewalk.
Now, never let it be said that I have no respect for the Power of the Baba Yaga. If there was one thing I learned early in life that had the potential to last forever, it was to respect all those deserving of it, which included the Beings with enough Magical Power to blow up a large city with a snap of their well-manicured fingers. So, if Carol were to show up any time, day or night, I would follow the proper protocol as taught to me by my mother –no matter what the Baba Yaga happened to be wearing or how high she’d Magicked the hair atop her head.
I would smile. I would curtsey. Then, when I stood up again, I would kiss the back of Carol’s hand and compliment her very long, squoval-shaped, professionally manicured, lime-green, polished press-on nails adorned with glitter, rhinestones, and every color of metallic foil star ever created. No sooner would she have beamed with pleasure at not only my compliments, but the fact that I noticed the attention she gave to appearance, than I would offer the one and only Baba Yaga her favorite specialty coffee that I had created in her honor– a Yaga Baba Super Java Swirl.
And no, I can’t tell you what’s in it because even though Carol cannot smite a Dragon, she can make me itch in places not even Aideen nor our combined Magicks can reach to scratch, and she asked me to keep the recipe a secret and to only make it for her. It seemed like a fair trade for not making me itch in all those places and for keeping Dragoon Bootay, TX, safe from the prying eyes of people I wasn’t even sure were still alive –or more importantly –wanted me and mine dead with a capital D.
Thankfully, a while back, I can’t remember how long because my memory has always been shit –it has absolutely nothing to do with my age, and if you’re thinking anything different, please keep it to yourself –it was not the neon-adorned, blond bombshell that appeared in our little burg –it was Zelda. At first, I had my doubts. She looked young –like wet behind the wand young. And if the Dragon Queen with whom I shared my soul was right –which she always was –the Witch with gorgeous auburn curls, sparkling green eyes, and a tiny, size four figure that made me want to set her ablaze and watch her burn had recently been released from the Magical Pokey, aka the Jail for Witches Who Abuse Magic in Salem, Mass for, yep, you guessed it, abusing Magic.
