Chapter Three

C hief D tried not to think of the smell while eating inside the upside-down garbage can, though the smell was bad, real bad. Already he missed their home in the walls of the striga hostel. He missed his bed made out of the softest sanitary napkins and wool socks. He even missed his woman, though she had a big mole on the back of her neck and refused to make more offspring. Most of all, he missed his Enchantress. The battery on their phone had died, and they had no way to watch the Enchantress. How would he fall asleep without kissing the screen goodnight?

He and his bucks sat around the campfire, smoke rings drifting up toward a narrow hole at the top of the can, eating cheese and drinking beer while staring into the flames. The shaky weewee lay on its side inside the toppled roller skate, the dryad not making a sound, and he wondered if maybe he’d imagined the whole thing about her cursing them with cats if they didn’t take her to the park of many trees. Maybe they should just leave her here, so they could return home and charge their phone.

A noise outside startled them, and they jumped up, grabbing their weapons in case a cat was trying to stick a clawed foot inside.

They lowered their weapons, sorely disappointed when four cross-eyed, bucktoothed nannies came into their can.

The tallest one, with hair the color of beer foam and ruddy skin, bowed before them, her eyes crossing with the movement. “Greetings, bruders of tribe Fungi-Toes.” She splayed a hand across her chest. “I tribe matriarch. My name Elka Heavy-Bottom.” She nodded toward the others. “This Helga, Ursula, and Graechen.”

“Greetings, seesters of tribe Moldy-Bread.” Chief D bowed, too. “Why you come here?”

The tall nanny motioned toward the others who carried bags slung over their shoulders. “We bring gifts of cheese and beer.”

Chief D frowned when he saw them cast nervous glances in the direction of the shaky weewee. They were here to steal it.

He crossed his arms, giving them his best scowl. “Chief W already give us food.”

A stalky nanny stepped forward, her chest and arms wide and her teeth so big, she couldn’t shut her mouth. “And phone for watching Witchtok .” She untied her bag, revealing a shiny phone with pink sparkles the color of the Enchantress’s lipstick.

Bruders Sixfingers, Gobbleneck, and Bumblenose all made excited squeals like they were nannies, and Chief D grumbled. How easily they were swayed. And though he loved the Enchantress as much as they did, he knew it was a trick.

He held out his arm, blocking Bruder Gobbleneck when he reached for the phone. “Why you bring us this?”

The nannies shared sly looks before the tall one said, “Because we feel bad about stink.”

“It okay.” He shrugged, certain they were lying. “We used to it.”

She arched a thick, pale brow. “Then you no wish to see Enchantress?”

Drool formed on their chins at the mention of the Enchantress, the one thing buck gnomes loved more than anything, more than even beer and cheese. She was the closest thing to a goddess they had ever seen, who told her followers to love all creatures, even gnomes. Because of her, many striga had stopped poisoning and killing gnomes and treating them like vermin. She made the bucks’ hearts beat so hard in their chests, they nearly killed over from the adoration.

“No,” he reluctantly said with as stern a voice as he could manage. He held out a silencing hand when his bruders made splutters of protest. “We see her yesterday, and we see her when we get back.”

The nanny clucked her tongue. “But today she have special new video.”

Time seemed to stop as Chief D gaped at her. The Enchantress posted a new video? Of all the days when he had forgotten to pack the charger. He cursed his rotten luck while the other bucks grumbled and stomped.

“What it about?” he asked, then cringed, afraid his bucks would demand he make the trade.

The nanny flashed a big, bucktoothed grin. “It about phoenix witch.”

The bruders jumped up and down, crying like toddlers. “Let us see!”

“Not yet.” She nodded to the stocky nanny, who backed up a step while holding the phone tightly to her chest. “We ask for trade.”

A cry rang out. It took Chief D a moment to realize that cry had come from him. “What trade?”

The nanny’s eyes flared as she nodded toward the toppled skate. “You give us shaky weewee for one night. Then we trade back in morning.”

Chief D stomped a foot. “No.”

The other bucks grumbled and swore.

The nanny gave him a pouty face, and he knew she was trying to look like the Enchantress, but instead she looked like a gaping fish. “Then you miss Enchantress, and she think you no love her.”

Bruder Sixfingers clutched his shoulder, his extra thumb digging into his skin. “Just one night, bruder,” he pleaded, his eyes wide and glossy.

Chief D shook his head. “They lie. They keep shaky weewee forever.”

Bruder Bumblenose threw up his hands, his big nose jiggling with the movement. “Then it not our problem.”

“We promise dryad we take her to park of many trees.” Chief D cast the shaky weewee a timid look, afraid the dryad would curse them if they didn’t honor their word.

“The Moldy-Bread tribe can do it,” Bruder Gobbleneck argued.

“No, sorry.” His shoulders fell with the realization that they would have to miss their Enchantress, and they’d never see her again if they were eaten by cats on their journey. “We cannot make trade.”

His bruders threw back their heads, letting out keening wails.

“But Enchantress think we no love her,” Bruder Bumblenose cried.

“She kindest most beautiful witch and will understand,” Chief D said, even though his heart was breaking, too.

The nannies gave them looks of pity before pulling each other aside and speaking in hushed whispers. Finally, the tall one returned, holding out the phone. “You may keep phone and beer and cheese.”

The bucks let out hoots and hollers of joy, but Chief D feared this was a trick. He eyed them skeptically. “Why?”

“Because you prove you deserve them.” She smiled, though the gleam in her eyes was hard like ice. “We wish you a good night, bruders.” The nannies bowed to them.

“Thank you, seesters,” Bruder Gobbleneck called after them as they disappeared behind the flap on the door. “You truly kindred.”

When the seesters left them alone with the phone and food, Chief D couldn’t stop thinking this was too good to be true. They left without a trade, which was unusual for a gnome. If there was one thing they were better at than stealing, it was trading. Would the nannies give up the shaky weewee so easily? Then again, what did he care when the Enchantress beckoned him?

The gnomes hastily fumbled with the phone, fighting over it until Chieftain D snatched it and pressed the Witchtok icon and quickly found their beloved Enchantress’s most recent video.

He hit play, and they stared at the black screen with bold white letters scrolling across the page. “A special message from the Enchantress...”

Then they ‘oohed’ and ‘aahed’ when the screen faded to a strikingly beautiful waif of a witch with smooth, ebony skin, high cheekbones, and luminous lavender eyes. Her hair was slicked back, emphasizing a sparkly diamond and amethyst jeweled crown. Her pert breasts nearly fell out of her tight, white chiffon gown with a deep front cut that went to her naval.

“My darling Enchanters,” she said in a wistful but smoky voice while batting thick lashes. “I know I don’t normally post today, but in light of recent events, I felt compelled to share an update. As many of you know by now, there’s evidence that the phoenix has been resurrected, and she is, in fact, a middle-aged, divorced, American baker.”

She paused to sigh, and all the gnomes sighed with her.

Bruder Sixfingers flung himself onto the phone, kissing her full, pouty lips. “I wub you! I wub you!”

When Bruder Sixfingers started humping the phone, Chief D grumbled, pulling him off. “You get your stank all over clean screen!” He shoved Bruder Sixfingers onto the ground.

“She was last seen at the Roman Tribunal,” the Enchantress continued, her wistful voice turning darker, “a sacred striga temple which now lies in ruins. The Tribunal has issued an order for her arrest, though where she is now, nobody knows, somewhere with her sphinx protector, no doubt.”

She paused again, chewing on the end of her long, polished, onyx fingernail while looking even more mysterious. “As the most beloved and followed striga on Witchtok , I feel it is my duty to invite her to appear as a special guest to explain her side of the story. So if you’re watching this, Luciella Lovelle, please send me a DM, and one of my assistants will arrange a private and secure meeting.”

Chief D was jealous. What he wouldn’t give for a private meeting with the Enchantress, so he could declare his undying love and hump her ankle.

“I look forward to hearing from you, darling.” She blew a kiss toward the screen, and the gnomes sighed, pretending as if the kiss was for them.

She took out her pink, shimmery wand and drew a magical, sparkly heart in the air. “Remember, Enchanters, peace to all striga creatures, from the smallest of gnomes to the biggest of dragons, and please always practice mindful magic.”

She blew kisses at the screen. “Kisses, kisses, and magical wishes!”

The gnomes jumped up and snatched her invisible kisses from the sky, thrilled she had mentioned their race, their hearts so full of love, they felt near to bursting. They finished their beer and cheese, then pressed replay on the screen, watching their beloved goddess over and over until they fell asleep with her name on their lips.