Greenteeth

by Molly O'Neill

Any Jenny can make another Jenny, but it doesn’t happen very often. We don’t give birth to our own babies. There aren’t any male Jennys and frankly the idea of human reproduction makes me feel a bit sick. We make our children from the unwanted offspring of others.

“That’s preachers for you. They care less about facts than about fear. That cursed parson probably didn’t even think I was really a witch, just a woman who was cleverer than he thought she should be.”

“Well, in truth—and if questioned I will deny ever having said this—I am rather fond of you, Jenny. You are amusingly soft-hearted for a villainous swamp creature and I enjoy sparring with you at our meetings. I would be passing sorry to see you devoured body and soul by an ancient eldritch nightmare.”

“A witch, a goblin and Jenny Greenteeth are off to seek the King of the Fairies,” he said. “What a delicious disaster this could be.”

“Come to me now,” I whispered, “I am the heir of Avalon, I am the Lady of the Lake. I call your power to mine, not to bind but to borrow.”