Somewhere South Of Mary Berry

"You're growing a wart on the end of your nose, Clara," Cassandra said with some alarm.

But Clara just cackled, non-perturbed.

"If only Flynn could see his Hartley now," Jacob said, rubbing his hands together with glee. "That pretty face ain't so pretty anymore."

"Don't," Cassandra said, as Eve restrained Ezekiel from flying away again, "you're meant to be nice."

"If you want nice, look up Jones," Jacob said pettishly, "he's somewhere east of Julie Andrews and south of Mary Berry."

"He is a bit... twee," Cassandra said carefully, eying Ezekiel's flowery bonnet.

"I know," Jacob agreed wholeheartedly, "I wish he would rustle up some hot chocolate and cookies like he did last time."

"Don't forget the cinnamon sticks," Cassandra reprimanded.

But as she said this, Jacob's head shot up, nose twitching, nostrils flaring. "I smell a dead wolf," he said, baring his teeth like fangs, "and all the better to hear you with!" he bellowed, rounding on a girl that had crept up behind them.

"Save me!" the girl screamed, casting herself into Cassandra's arms.

"Nice coat," Ezekiel beamed, as he glided past, Eve clinging to the back of his jacket, wearing a martyred express

"It makes your thighs look fat," Clara cackled from overhead, now greener than the Incredible Hulk.

Cassandra glanced down at herself, the girl gazing at her in adoration as she did. She saw with some amazement she was now clad in an old-fashioned crimson velvet peacoat, with flowing ruffles on the cuffs and collar, and elaborate epaulettes everywhere else, instantly making her stand up straighter.

"You're infected," Jacob said, eyes becoming wide with wonder.

"I'm enhanced," Cassandra said, throwing back her head.

"You're my hero," the girl gushed, before fainting, Clara pelting her with eggs from above.

~*~

"I'm the last man standing," Eve said in disbelief as Ezekiel sang a lullaby to a pot plant, his voice reminiscent of Julie Andrews at her worst. Clara was now almost unrecognizable, her nose large and hooked, her head bald and grotesquely bulbous, fingers long and clawlike, whilst Cassandra held court as a large crowd of swooning girls swarmed around her, acting as if One Direction had come to town.

"I want that wolf on my wall, Baird," Jacob said, sniffing the air.

"All of it?" Eve said sarcastically.

"Of course all of it!" Jacob snapped. "Trophy collecting isn't a tea-party, princess!"

"Don't!" Eve cried, clutching her head, but she was too late. Her usual hairstyle of scraped back blonde hair had been replaced by flowing golden locks. "What have you done to me!" she shrieked, shoving Jacob hard in the chest, making him stagger back.

"I ain't done nothin'!" Jacob said, his head whipping round, nostrils flaring again. "It's in there," he said, pointing at a nearby bar. "Let's get that goddamn wolf!"

"Anything for my hero," Eve simpered, batting her eyelashes together.

"Anything for our hero," the crowd of girls echoed, batting their eyes at Cassandra.

"I need you, Cass," Jacob said, grabbing her shoulder.

"Do not besmirch the coat," Cassandra said coolly, prising his fingers from the fabric. "And call me Charming." At this, the crowd of girls swooned again.

"Come on then, Charming," Jacob said, rolling his eyes, "I need you and Blondie here to create a distraction so I can get that wolf out."

Cassandra just raised an eyebrow, but she obliged him all the same, signalling for the girls to stay put. She looped Eve's arm through hers, the pair of them sauntering into the bar, making heads turn as Jacob sidled into the kitchen, whistling 'The Teddy Bears Picnic" under his breath. As they executed their plans, Clara flew overhead, hairy nostrils twitching, smelling children, her stomach rumbling.

"What you doing, Clara?" Ezekiel chirped, gliding along beside her.

"Hunting," Clara snapped, surveying the mountainous landscape.

"Why don't you just buy a delightful do-nut with that even more delightful dime I gave you?" Ezekiel smiled, waving to a passing cloud.

"Hooligan!" Clara screeched, circling him.

"I think it looks like rain," Ezekiel said, frowning. At this, Clara let out a scream, kicking her broomstick into gear, aiming for the earth again. Ezekiel followed her, before becoming distracted by a flock of butterflies the size of cart-horses, hope rising in his heart. "Let me join you!" he begged them. "I'm not made for this harsh world!" But they continued their journey, oblivious to his agony.

~*~

Clara's spindly heels made contact with the sidewalk, her bald head glinting in the sunlight. It didn't look like rain from where she was standing, but a witch couldn't take any chances. Jacob came to a halt in front of her, sweat beading his brow, face exhausted. At his feet lay the carcass of the giant wolf, its pink frilly nightcap askew, ribbons unravelling.

Elsewhere, in another dimension, Flynn was about to be beheaded, but whilst he waited for death, he thought it expedient to call his Clara, maybe share a little heart to heart with his Hartley. "Mon amour," Flynn purred down the line, eying the executioner with an expert eye.

"Would you take your booty call elsewhere please?" Jenkins said irritably, slamming down his tea-cup. "I need to speak to Clara."

"But I'm calling Clara!" Flynn protested.

"I can't get through to any of the others," Jenkins snapped, "Clara's my last chance!"

Pouting, Flynn cut the call, before making his escape by flying elephant. Back in this dimension, Clara's mobile started trilling 'Somewhere Over The Rainbow', making her fall to her knees, hands clamped over her ears. "Make it stop!" she screamed, collapsing in a writhing heap of black rags.

Rolling his eyes, Jacob stooped down, gingerly taking her mobile out of her pocket, raising an eyebrow at the mini devil's horns decorating it. "Hello?" he said, wrinkling his brow. "Jake here, who's callin'?"

"It's me, you oaf!" Jenkins bellowed. "You need to get that wolf!"

"Consider it done," Jacob said, glancing at his prize.

"What, you have it?"

"Yup."

"You need to cut it open," Jenkins said urgently.

"What!?" Jacob exclaimed. "I ain't doin' that! That baby's goin' on my wall!"

"You need to excavate its stomach," Jenkins snapped, "examine the contents of its last meal. There may be a slight chance they're still alive."

"What's still alive?" Jacob said stupidly.

"Its last meal!" Jenkins said, snatching up his jacket. "Now get to it!" And with that, he hung up, heading for the back door.

Jacob stared at the phone, before throwing it aside. Exhaling sharply, he knelt down, drawing out a large Bowie knife that didn't belong to him, only appearing into existence at his touch, before expertly slicing the wolf's underside open, only for a young woman in a red dress to roll out onto the sidewalk, coughing and spluttering, covered in intestinal juices. "Whoa," Jake said, taking a step back, "I was not expecting that."

"You should have been," Clara snarled, "this is your story, not mine."

All of these lines across my face
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I've been
And how I got to where I am...