Pongo

“Hey, great costume. Gonna pull a rabbit outta that hat, Mandrake?”

“Thanks. Magician’s kinda cliché, bit of a busman’s holiday for me, but I had the cape and hat from work. You look great too. Larry Lawnchair, complete with balloons. Nice. I like the way they bobble as you dance.”

“Work? What? Sorry, I can hardly hear you over the music. Yeah, Larry’s a bit of a hero of mine.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know. Just that kind of follow your dreams thing.”

Trudi was in a hurry. She’d enjoyed all the Wiccan events her friends arranged, as keen as any of the girls to spend an evening drinking, chatting and getting verbal revenge on their boyfriends. What she’d never expected was supernatural occurrences, let alone one that would strike such a chord in her.

Caitlyn was impressed by the attention her activities had been receiving. The press caught hold of the story early. People floating over the city had a tendency to get excellent press. The police had been following the story closely at the urging of the civil aviation authority because of the air traffic hazard posed by human balloons drifting at the whim of the wind.

A man sat in a booth at the dark end of the bar, a clutch of balloons drifting back and forth above his head as air currents from the heating toyed with the pretty rubber globes. His posture and alert response every time the door opened denoted he was waiting for someone with great eagerness. The perfect victim.