Weapon of Choice

"AHHHHHHHH! PUT ME DOWN, YOU OLD HAG!!!" Margo screamed, kicking her legs as she hung, suspended from the ceiling. A wrinkled woman with lengthy, knotted snow-white hair stood beneath her, her wart sheathed arms uplifted in a struggled effort to keep her raised. "Now then, my scrumptious" she cackled, baring her rotten-toothed smile for Eliot, "Would you kindly mind stepping into the oven?"

"Um, I'm perfectly comfortable over here," he assured her. "Besides, I haven't worked an oven in forever, wouldn't know what to do with the thing."

Her eyes lowered, as the black of her pupils dilated past the whites of her eyes, engulfing the sockets entirely. "GET IN THE DAMN OVEN," she growled. Eliot slowly began walking forward, stalling every step of the way, with his hands raised. "You don't have to be so rude about it," he mumbled. "My friends will come for us. You'll see."

Beyond the entrance of the cottage, Julia and Quentin crouched, trying desperately to come to the aid of their friends.

"Are they down?" Quentin whispered

"Just about," she answered. "I don't know what type of warding she's used, but the last bit is damn near impossible to remove."

"Here, let me try," Quentin said, motioning for her to move aside. "Recludam ostium," he whispered. A jet of crimson sparks shot from his fingertips, flying into the door's keyhole.

"Way to go, Q," Julia said sarcastically, clapping her hands in a mockingly slow motion.

"Well, I guess we don't have any other choice, do we? You gonna summon him, or uh, am I?

"We'll do it together."

A blinding emerald and gold light shimmered throughout the small house, shooting from every open orifice.

"About time you two got here," Margo whimpered from above. "Don't worry about me, I'm just ...hanging out up here, but hurry and get Eliot out of that. She's bewitched it shut."

Quentin and Julia started towards the oven, weaving their hands at virtually impossible speeds.

"I don't think so," the witch croaked. "Maleficus Omn—"

"Ahh, Rosina Leckermaul," a grating voice hissed from the doorway. "You haven't changed at all. Still quite the beastly troll of a woman, but..." The stranger paused, turning his head to look at the others in the kitchen. "These...these aren't the ones you typically go for, now are they, Rosy? You and I both know you like them a little younger; plumper."

Rosina, stared at the small fellow, the way a lion stares at a gazelle before pouncing.

"I take what I can get. Whosoever is foolish enough to wander into my humble abode, really. Seeing as you have stepped over the threshold, that now includes you, Rumpelstiltskin," she accused, pointing an elongated finger.

"Did you think saying that name would scare me? he laughed. Honey, it's 2017, by now, everyone knows it. Try again, love.

Rosina hurtled at him, her long messy hair following after.

He remained calm, barely raising his hand to snap his fingers. No sooner had he done so, had the opposing witch exploded in an eruption of blood, leaving Quentin, Julia, and Eliot completely covered head to toe. Margo, who'd just fallen from the ceiling managed to spellcast, allowing her feet to gracefully levitate over the splattered carnage.

"Quentin, don't tell me this is the pixie conjuring spell the Hedges gave you," Eliot uttered.

"Um, it is, but, like, I don't get it. We did it correctly...didn't we?" he asked, looking to Julia.