by Bardwynna
Wynna1[at]yahoo.com
Copyright © by Bardwynna, 1997
DISCLAIMER: This Story contains sexual scenes between two consenting, adult Women, and also violence and adult language. If this is illegal in your state, you are under the age of 18, or have a problem with this, then stop reading now and come back when you're more mature.
It always came back at the witching hour...
Two a.m., Jo had always thought, was the real midnight of the soul; the time when all the dark chasms opened up, leaving you screaming and clawing for sanity, when most suicides and murders were committed, when you woke up in an ice cold sweat in wet tangled sheets and prayed for deliverance from your demons... But Jo's demon was very real indeed.
As she scrambled, naked and bloody, to a corner of the tiny apartment, trying to lay hands on the gun she knew she'd left on the entertainment center, Jo thought crazily that if it hadn't been for Councilor Diggs, she wouldn't be in this mess. But then there was no time for thinking; with a shattering, crystalline noise, the demon stepped through the big mirror that hung on the wall, it's flesh raw and wet-looking, enormous claws on both hands clicking as it scuttled towards the terrified woman with a leering grin on it's half- finished face.
"Shit, shit, shit!" Jo's trembling hands scrambled on the shelf of the entertainment center where she thought she'd left her gun. Her left shoulder had been opened up by the demon's claws, and a sheet of blood ran over her side and down her arm, dripping off her fingertips. The woman's platinum blonde hair was greasy with sweat and she tossed her head to get it out of her eyes.
As the demon moved closer, obviously savoring Jo's atavistic terror, her hand finally landed on the cold steel of her Beretta. Swinging around, she pointed directly at the demon's heart and fired, the sound of the shots roaring in her ears, nearly drowning out the pounding of her pulse, and the stink of gunpowder filling the air.
The demon stopped in its tracks, a puzzled look on its face. Raising one clawed hand, it poked into one of the holes in its chest and pulled out a twisted bullet... then it tossed the spent ammo over its shoulder and continued its advance.
Jo fired again and again, despairingly... the gun had always stopped the demon before, driving it back into whatever corner of Hell it occupied when it wasn't playing with her like a cat plays with a helpless mouse. But this time, for some reason, it wasn't working. With a shrill scream of rage that bubbled up from her gut and burst out of her mouth, Jo flung the gun at the demon's face and prepared to sell her life dearly.
With a bang, the door of her apartment burst open, fluorescent hall lights flooding the room with an eerie glow... and a silhouette on the threshold stepped boldly into the apartment, the door closing behind it unaided.
The demon whirled around with a snarl to deal with this new threat... and Jo's eyes widened when she saw the new woman who'd just moved into the apartment down the hall. Small, compactly built but muscular, with flaming orange hair the color of ripe tangerines. Jo's mind dredged up the woman's name even as she scrambled to get between the newcomer and the demon... Reilly, Jo thought, her name's Evan Reilly, and then, Goddammit! What's she doing here, the crazy broad? She's gonna get killed!
Evan shook back her hair; it was long, nearly to her knees, and straight as bone. She was dressed in a ragged robe, and Jo noted with some detached corner of her mind that her neighbor wore fuzzy bunny slippers on her feet, the felt ears torn and drooping. The demon reached out its impossibly long arms towards Evan... and something happened that made Jo fall back in shock.
The air seemed to crackle as Evan raised one hand, palm out, towards the demon. Chanting something under her breath, she raised her other hand and pointed a black hilted knife at the creature. It squealed, voice rising up off the scale until Jo thought her eardrums would burst. She blinked; Evan's form seemed to flicker, from woman to something... wolf?... and back again. The demon hunched over and screamed again, black tongue extended and seeming darker against the yellowed ivory of its shark-like teeth.
Evan moved closer to the demon, still chanting, and a thin, electric-blue line shot out from the point of her knife, striking the demon squarely between the eyes. Dipping into the pocket of her robe, the woman flung a fistful of something into the demon's face, and it staggered back. It's hellishly yellow eyes, diamond-pupiled like a goat's, glared at Evan in pure hatred, then with another scream, it leaped back into the mirror... and was gone.
The silence was nearly deafening. Jo sank down to the floor, holding her wounded shoulder and panting. Evan briskly dusted her hand off on her robe, tucked the knife away, and looked down at Jo. "What's a nice girl like you doin' consortin' with demons in the middle of the night?," she asked in a voice that had a hint of Irish lilt in it.
Jo couldn't help it... she had to laugh. The entire situation suddenly struck her as absolutely hilarious, and she laughed until she cried, until she felt Evan's hands on her, lowering her to the floor, and until the darkness reached up and engulfed her in cool, blessed peace.
"Sacred salt and St. John's wort," a voice said.
Jo opened her eyes a crack, squinting against the sunlight that streamed into the room. Evan sat on the floor beside her futon, both hands wrapped around a steaming mug. Jo sniffed; it wasn't coffee, and she wrinkled her nose, suddenly craving caffeine.
Evan smiled slightly. She'd seen Jo in the hallway a few times. The other woman was tall, prone to wearing a worn leather jacket and ancient, stringy jeans, with a baseball cap that hid her platinum blonde hair. Jo rarely smiled, mumbled hello, and went about her business in a slouch. Truly, until last night, Evan hadn't even considered that Jo might be involved in the occult - she just hadn't seemed the type.
"What?," Jo croaked, trying to rise, then fell back again hissing through her teeth as the pain in her shoulder struck with a vengeance... but seemed to fade with each passing moment.
"Sacred salt and St. John's wort. I'll give you some if you wish. Demons have a mortal hatred for the stuff. But what in the name of Holy Brigit were you doin', raisin' a demon without a protective circle? Did you think you could control it that well? Woman, that was at least a member of the Fourth Circle, and if it had gotten loose, the gods alone know what might have happened!"
"Shut up!," Jo snarled; she was naked and feeling very vulnerable in front of this woman who, it suddenly came to her, had saved her life last night... "I'm sorry," she said in a softer tone, swallowing her resentment. Jo had always thought of herself as strong, needing nobody and nothing and it stung that this little orange-haired chick had pulled her out of the fire without breaking a sweat. "Look, I didn't call it, okay? It just... came, that's all."
Evan frowned. "Demons don't just 'come', they have to be called. You don't have to use a ritual; all you have to do is open a door."
Jo shifted on the futon. "Yeah, so I'm attractive to hellspawn," she said sarcastically. "The way my life's been lately that's the only attention I've gotten in months."
"Hmph." Evan laid down her mug. "Listen to me," she said seriously. "This is no laughin' matter. Somehow, this demon's comin' through into this world from its own, and it clearly has some kind of attachment to you. Now, I can help you if you'll let me. If not..." She shrugged. "I'll just wait until it rips out your stubborn throat and then clean up the mess afterward. Your choice." Her eyes, the dark gray of stormy skies, stared into Jo's own blue.
Jo shook her head, one hand going absently to her shoulder to scratch... The bulky bandage there prevented her from relieving that pesky itch. Itch?, she thought, a second ago it hurt like hell. She peeled off the tape that held the bandage in place, tore off the package and looked at her wound.
Four deep clawmarks had been there last night; Jo would have figured she's be in the ER getting stitched. But the marks looked almost healed; the scabs were already loosening, which was why it itched so much. She stared at Evan, who smiled. "I took the liberty of doin' a healin' on you," Evan said. "I figured you not the type who'd be wantin' to answer a lot of question from nosy doctors."
Even as Jo turned her eyes back to the clawmarks, the scabs fell off, leaving pink marks behind... which rapidly turned to the silver of months-old scars. "I-I-I...," she stammered, then gulped and looked back at Evan.
The orange-haired woman relieved Jo of the bloodstained bandage and tossed it into the trash can by the futon. "Small enough work," she said lightly. "After demon banishin', I can always use somethin' positive to work on."
"It's gone? Banished?," Jo asked, mentally wondering just who the hell this Reilly woman was.
"Only temporarily, I'm afraid," Evan replied. "It'll be back, no doubt. Here; sip this tea and tell me how it came about that you're bein' stalked by one of the Morningstar's kinfolk."
Jo drank the tea, nose wrinkling at the taste, and abruptly came to a decision. She'd trust this woman; after all, she'd saved her life in more ways than one... But only so much, Jo thought. Only so far. I'm not gonna get hurt again. But I owe her, and a Tate always pays her debts.
Taking a deep breath and settling back on the pillows, Jo began her story...
"About two months ago, I took this job for a big hoo-ha on the City Council," Jo said. At Evan's puzzled expression, she explained, "I do odd jobs, mostly. Bodyguarding, bounty hunting, skip tracing, some private investigation... Whatever gets thrown my way. Anyway, Diggs wanted to hire me 'cause I've got a rep for taking on the strange cases - like two years ago, with the arsonist poltergeist that turned the Steinway manor into a pile of ash, that kinda stuff?"
Evan nodded, and Jo continued, "Dunno how come I fell into this crap. It just kinda happened. So there Diggs is, holding out this wad of cash that woulda choked a mule, and I couldn't resist. I ain't exactly a legitimate operator; skirt just this side of the law most times, so I take what I can get.
"His boy, Alex, had been having some problems. He was twelve going on forty, so it was the usual benign poltergeist stuff - objects flying around the room, shaking bed, occasional levitation. I figured it was the old puberty angst angle and would settle itself out in a few weeks. It usually does. My job was just to keep the family calm until it passed. But then... things got more, well, sinister.
"First, the family cat was found strangled and impaled on the lightning rod on the roof of the house. Then, Mrs. Diggs was pushed down the stairs when she coulda swore she was alone... and got her leg broke. Then Alex started acting strange, speaking in tongues and getting violent. Diggs called me one night, saying I should haul ass, big bad mojo was going down. So I went."
Jo stopped speaking as she remembered that night. It had been storming, the wind whipping the trees into a branch-lashing frenzy, and it was bitterly cold. By the time she'd gotten to the Councilor's house, riding through the freezing rain in her leaky and grumbly Chrysler P.O.S., she'd been chilled to the bone and shivering.
She shook herself out of her trance and continued, "The house was dark; the electricity had been turned off. I grabbed a flashlight and started looking around. First one I found was Diggs; he was in his den, neck broke. His head had been twisted almost all the way around.
"The Mrs. was in the kitchen; there was blood everywhere - painted on the walls, splashed on the ceiling. She had so many sharp objects stuck in her in her that when the M.E.'s assistants carried her body out, it rattled like giant castanets. Anyway, I went looking for the boy. By this time, I figured it was some kind of psycho murderer, a serial killer maybe. Didn't recognize the M.O., but then again, I ain't exactly on the cop's sweetheart list and don't have access to VICAP so I didn't know for sure.
"Alex was in his room. Pajamas covered in blood. And his eyes, oh God, his eyes!" Jo shuddered. "They were yellow, like that demon's, and they glowed. He had shreds of flesh in his teeth and he was growling like some kinda dog or something. I was packing my Beretta, but I swear, I never even thought about drawing it. I was paralyzed; I just couldn't wrap my mind around what was happening."
Evan laid a comforting hand on Jo's shoulder. "You couldn't have known the boy was courtin' possession," she said softly. "Your gun wouldn't have been effective anyway, not against the demon. You might have killed the flesh, but the demon could still have animated it."
Jo said bitterly, "Whatever," and pulled away from Evan's touch. Swallowing, she continued, "I don't really remember what happened after that. When the cops arrived - the next door neighbor had called 'em 'cause of the screams they heard - the boy was dead. According to the coroner's report, it was natural causes; his heart just stopped. They found Alex's fingerprints on the weapons used to kill Mrs. Diggs, and the boy's prints were on Diggs' neck, so I wasn't a suspect. They let me go."
"And when did the demon start visitin' you?," Evan asked.
"About two weeks later. It comes at the same time, but not every night. At first, it just stared at me from that damned mirror; then, it came out and started stalking me. I shot it a few times, and it went away. But last night, it kept coming, just reached out and took a chunk outta me. I thought I was a dead woman until you showed up."
Evan nodded. "And you don't remember what happened that night? Why Alex died? Or how?"
"I told ya, I don't remember!," Jo snarled, suddenly suppressing the urge to smash her fist into the wall. "I tried getting rid of that mirror... Hauled it to the dump one afternoon. Damned if I didn't get home and there it was, back on the wall! I tried smashing it, but whatever I use just bounces off like bullets offa Superman's hide! I tried giving it away, but it keeps coming back! Jesus Christ!" She turned her face into the pillow and bit her lip, trying to stop the angry tears that threatened.
Evan looked at Jo, her hand reaching out... then stopped. "Listen to me, Jo," she said. "I'll help you. You're not alone... Not anymore."
Jo snuffled, her face still turned away. "Who gives a shit anyway?," she asked. "I ain't nobody important. You just go back to your own life, Ms Sticking-Her-Nose-Where-It-Don't-Belong. I'll be okay."
Evan flushed angrily. "Oh, really?," she retorted. "Were you okay last night? If you're that demon's focus and it kills you, it'll be free to do whatever it wants in this world. And that's not acceptable. So, you're goin' to take my help, you stubborn bitch, whether you want it or not!"
Although angered, Jo inwardly admired Evan's spirit. She's got fire, I'll give her that, the blonde woman thought. "And just who the hell are you, anyway?," Jo asked, scrubbing at her face with one hand.
Evan smiled, a startlingly sweet smile that gave her the look of a slightly wicked fairy. "I'm Eoibhan Reille," she replied, and even Jo heard the slight difference in the way she pronounced her name. "And I'm here to help you."
Jo couldn't deny the sincerity of those words, or the feeling of warmth and goodwill she got from the other woman. Under other circumstances, Jo thought absently, I'd probably ask her out on a date. She quickly dismissed that thought. She didn't even know if Evan was gay. "Okay... S'pose I accept this help you're offering; how much is it gonna cost me?"
Evan reached out and smoothed a lock of platinum hair from Jo's brow. "Only your friendship, colleen. And only if you're willin'."
Jo nodded; if this women COULD help... No, she thought. I don't want to go there. Not now; maybe not ever.
"All right. Toss me a pair of jeans and a shirt... And then tell me what we gotta do," Jo said, sitting up and tossing off the sheets.
Evan watched Jo get dressed; the other woman's skin was as pale as her own, though marked by old scars and the traceries of ancient injuries. She was skinny but well muscled, like a gymnast or dancer, with small breasts and a narrow waist, barely enough hip to keep from being boy-shaped. But there was one other thing...
On her right rear shoulder had been tattooed a dragon in flamboyant crimson and blue, fiery yellow and vivid emerald. It stood rampant, imperial five- claws extended, forked tongue lashing and wings outspread. It's tail coiled up and then down, snaking around Jo's upper right arm in three coils that ended with a multi-colored barb just above her elbow. Evan was impressed.
"Beautiful," she breathed, reaching out one hand unconsciously to touch the tattoo... But Jo twisted away and pulled a worn tank top over her head, then ran both hands through her shoulder-length platinum hair until it stood up in a quiff on top.
"Yeah, got it in Hong Kong," Jo said, standing up and tugging on a pair of jeans whose knees were non-existent. "Was over there about six years ago, tracking this deadbeat importer who skipped out on his partners."
What Jo didn't tell Evan was that the importer had been a naga, one of the half-human snake-folk... and a supplier of first-rate heroin, shipped onto the island for import into the U.S. via his business. She'd confronted him in a warehouse on the waterfront and nearly died that night when he'd summoned his clan to help him. Ruefully, Jo examined the silver marks on one arm where she'd been struck several times by venomous fangs; fortunately, she'd loaded herself up on anti-venom before the incident but had still been ill for weeks after.
Evan merely nodded, sensing this was not the time for questions, then rose. "First, I need to see about some kind of protection for you," she said. "I'll just be runnin' to my apartment for a minute and throw on some clothes of my own and grab a few things."
For the first time, Jo looked at Evan... REALLY looked at her. She still wore her worn robe, but it was stained and spotted with blood all down the front, and the bunnies on her slippers seemed more bedraggled than ever. "Um... I'll give you the money for a new robe if you want," she said lamely.
"Oh, no," Evan replied airily. "I just wear this around the house. Be right back," and with hardly any noise at all, let herself out of the apartment and closed the door behind her.
Jo wandered through the living room, noting that at some point in the night, Evan had cleaned up. No more fast food wrappers heaped on the floor; no months old pizza boxes stacked up in the corners. The window had been thrown wide open, allowing the first fresh air in months to sweep away the stale, fusty stench that had permeated the place before.
Even the tiny kitchen was spotless. Jo sniffed herself, then wrinkled her nose. Maybe I'd better take a shower, she thought. Passing by the mirror on the way to the bathroom, Jo realized that the silvery surface of the cursed object was completely covered in tiny, rusty red symbols. Rubbing her shoulder, she muttered an oath under her breath and went to take her shower.
When Evan returned, letting herself in without knocking, she was wearing a pair of black Lycra leggings and a big white T-shirt that had been cut off at midriff in a ragged seam. Her wild orange hair was twisted back in a simple braid that hung down to mid-thigh, revealing the half-dozen tiny gold rings she wore in each ear.
She fingered the small bandage she wore on one wrist; she'd cut herself with her anthame, the sacred knife made by her own hands, to get the blood she'd used to paint the symbols of disallowance and denial on the mirror. She shuddered as she passed the object; so many dark waves of evil emanated from that mirror that she had no doubt it was an open door to the very pit of Hell.
Evan plopped the leather case she'd brought down on the rickety wooden coffee table and sat down cross-legged on the couch, wishing she'd brought a cigarette with her. She rarely smoked these days, but sometimes, craved the nicotine's calming effect.
Jo is a troubled soul, she thought, listening to the running water. Truth to tell, I'm powerful attracted to her at first glance.. but I'd better watch my step. That one's been hurt, no doubt of that, and like as not sure to be skittish as a unbroken colt. She smiled to herself, recalling the other woman's stubbornness. Aye, I've rarely seen such a strong will in this lifetime, nor any other; but will she be able to accept me for what I am, even if we're no more than friends?
Evan screwed up her face, recalling other times, other places, when she'd trusted friends or lovers with her secrets... and been betrayed. Sometimes out of malice, but most times out of fear. But I must help this one, she thought, fiddling with a stray wisp of bright orange hair. Something draws me to her... some instinct. And over the years, I've learned to trust my gut when it comes to things like this.
Jo came out of the bathroom, enveloped in a cloud of steam. She'd put back on the tank top and jeans, but her hair was slicked back, wet and clean, and she certainly smelled better than she had. As she settled beside Evan on the couch, Evan sniffed and was rewarded by the scent of crisp herbs and spice. "You smell nice," Evan said with a smile.
"Uh, thanks," Jo replied, a bit nervous. She got back up again and scrubbed her hands on the back of her jeans. "You want a beer or something?," she asked, moving to the kitchen.
"No, thank you."
Jo grabbed a can of Coors from the refrigerator, popped the top, and took a long swallow. The shower had helped clear her head, but now she was dealing with other problems. Like her libido. Down, girl!, she thought to herself. Jesus, you just met the woman and you're ready to play pat-fanny-squeeze-titty with her already!
She went back into the living room and sat down again. The couch was so small she was forced to sit close to Evan, barely a palm's length away.
Evan reached for the leather case and opened it up, folding down the sides. Within were various phials and bottles, each one strapped to the interior. She removed three, then with a frown, took out a fourth. "Now then, first thing I'll do is put up some protections around you. Close your eyes."
Jo started to ask why, then shut her mouth and did as she was told. No sense in arguing with the woman every time she turns around, she admonished herself. Either you trust her, Tate, or you don't - You pays your money, you takes your choice, and you sticks with it! She ignored the growing sense of nagging doubt and forced herself to be calm.
Evan uncorked one phial and put a bit of oil on her fingertips, then anointed Jo's eyelids, murmuring under her breath the Rann of Othersight. It would allow the other woman to see what she was doing, see the fields of magical energy Evan would be weaving into a protective ward.
"All right. Open your eyes again."
Jo did, then swallowed a shriek and screwed them closed again. "What the hell?!!"
"It's all right, colleen. You're just seein' what's there all the time, only now your eyes are opened to it."
Cautiously, Jo opened her eyes again... Evan was surrounded by a snaky, twisting brilliance of purest blue-white; her own hands glowed with dull yellow, red and blue... but there was a narrow streak of black that pulsed and shimmered, interlocked with the other colors.
Evan put one hand on Jo's leg. "See the black? T'is the demon's hook into you. This is how he comes back, Jo. You're his focus, his foothold in this world."
"Get rid of it!" Jo bit her lip to keep from screaming; she suddenly had the overwhelming urge to climb back into the shower and scrub and scrub until her flesh came off in strings... and another urge to get up and run, run as fast as she could away from this woman and her... magic?
"I will, I will," Evan soothed. "But first things first. Turn around and lean back against me."
Jo closed her eyes and shifted on the sofa, suppressing a sigh as she felt the softness of Evan's breasts pressed against her back. Warm, strong arms came around and held her tight, and even as she flinched, the need to throw off the other woman's touch strong, Evan breathed in her ear, "Open your eyes and watch."
Jo did. Evan's hands were in front of her, every finger flashing with rings, nails cut sensibly short and unpolished. She was... God, she was braiding the light! Jo watched, holding her breath, utter fascination overwhelming everything else as Evan weaved and twisted strands of her own blue-white aura into and around Jo's, building a shield that would provide a measure of protection against psychic attack from the demon.
As the interlocking weave of light surrounded her, Jo took a deep breath, suddenly feeling better than she had in weeks, and the urge to get away from Evan fluttered and died.
She'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be fully well and alert; her senses had been dulled down, only pain and fear spiking to peaks whenever the demon appeared. Evan's voice with it's musical lilt chanted words that Jo didn't understand, but somehow knew had to do with the magic. There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Jo said to herself, and relaxed for the first time in a long time...
And within Hell, a demon snarled in frustrated fury, its hold on Jo weakened by Evan's magic. But in a moment, realizing the binding was still there, if no longer as strong as it had been, the demon stopped sending thoughts and feelings of mistrust and fear along the link... and stroked its chin with its clawed fingers, deep in thought.
After she finished the Rann of Withy-Work, Evan was tired. She'd nearly depleted her stores of personal energy, and in a big city, there were scant ley lines to draw upon. She hoped the shield she'd woven would be enough to protect Jo from an attack until she could do some research, raise more magic and complete a permanent banishment ritual.
She was mildly surprised that Jo had relaxed so much when she'd been to tense before; the other woman leaned against her, eyes half-closed, a small smile on her face. When the shield was finished, Jo sighed and squirmed a little, obviously snuggling closer. Evan's lips curved in a tiny smile of her own; she knew Jo must be feeling much better, now that the demon's influence had been lessened.
Evan placed the flat of one palm on Jo's forehead and whispered a Blessing, then said, "Now turn around and face me."
With a sigh, Jo obeyed, loathe to give up the sudden, sheer comfort of feeling the other woman's closeness. She sat cross-legged facing Evan, their knees touching.
"I'm goin' to paint some symbols on your face, hands and feet, as well as over your heart, kidneys and navel. You won't see them; they'll be invisible to normal sight, but they'll help ward off evil influences and assist in purifyin' you." Evan pulled a small clay dish out of the leather case, and quickly mixed some of the contents of the other three phials, putting all the glass containers back into their slots when she was finished.
Taking a tiny paintbrush out of the case, she swirled it through the clear fluid. Jo asked curiously, "What's in that?," as Evan, a frown of concentration on her face, began painting lines of symbols on Jo's forehead.
"Lady's Mantle, rue and rosemary oils, plus a bit of garlic, believe it or not."
"Doesn't stink."
"T'isn't supposed to." Evan continued painting, then said, "Now don't move your face and don't talk! I'll be through here in a moment."
Quickly, Evan finished Jo's face and moved to her hands and feet, including palms and soles; when the liquid dried, it was invisible as promised. Jo wrinkled her face experimentally but she couldn't feel anything different.
To her eyes, however... row upon row of delicate glyphs marched in ruler straight rows across her skin, glowing with a faint blue light. She held up one of her finished hands to admire it. "You know," Jo said, "When all this is over with, I wish you'd write me down some of this stuff. I think I'd like to get it tattooed into an armband."
Evan chuckled. "Might not be a bad idea, considerin' your career choices lately." She stopped and took a deep breath; although the expenditure of magical energy was small, just enough to activate the symbols, it was, on top of everything else, nearly exhausting. I won't be good for much after this, she thought ruefully. Maybe enough to put protections on the threshold and window, but that's goin' to be it for a while.
"So where are you from?," Jo asked a bit awkwardly as Evan pulled up her shirt and began painting something on the skin over her heart, small wisps of her hair brushing Jo's breasts.
"I was born in Ireland," Evan replied, applying broad yet precise strokes; this symbol, and the rest, would be much larger and the work would go more quickly. "But I've lived in America for... a long time."
"I figured. I mean, you don't hardly have an accent or anything. Just a little one. It's kinda cute." Immediately, Jo could have slapped herself in the forehead. Aw, Jeez, Tate, g'wan and impress her by babbling like a fuckin' idiot, she thought.
But Evan didn't seem to mind. Finishing with the heart symbol (which Jo thought looked rather like an infinite series of snakes eating their infinite tails; the symbol was complex and nearly eyewatering), the orange-haired woman put down the brush and unzipped Jo's jeans, pulling them down a bit to expose her navel. "Thank you," she said simply, picking up the brush again and ignoring Jo's indrawn breath and involuntary flinch. "I've worked hard to fit in."
Jo gulped. It had been a long time since she'd felt another woman's hands on her body... She tried to hold herself as still as possible, although the movements of the brush tickled a little.
Evan blew a stray lock of hair out of her eyes. "So, tell me a bit about yourself, Jo. How'd you get involved in magical affairs? Most folks don't believe and if they see, deny."
Jo let the breath she'd been holding escape her lips slowly. "Um... Ever since I was a kid, I could see things, you know? Like dead relatives and stuff. I never told nobody 'cause I figured they'd have me committed. Anyway, after mom died, it got worse. All the time I was Seeing, I mean, every time I turned around; walking to school, riding the bus, going to the store. I thought I was gonna go crazy 'cause I just couldn't get them outta my head - the voices, the whispers. For a while there I figured I was schitzo or something.
"After I graduated, I drifted a while, doing whatever - spent some time in construction as a laborer, even picked vegetables in Florida. Then I met this woman in Louisiana; she took one look at me and hauled my ass off to see her grandmomma."
"Who was a voodoo priestess, I'll bet...," Evan murmured, continuing her painting.
"Yeah. Big time mambo, lived in a swamp shack in Bayou Teche. Nothing but alligators and Spanish moss as far as the eye could see." Jo began to relax again. "She waved a chicken at me and did some kinda ritual, and after that, things got better. For a while."
Evan nodded. She'd met untrained psychics before. One of the reasons she'd wanted to get shields on Jo as soon as possible, even with her own depleted resources, was that the untrained but gifted were often targets for psychic predators. What the mambo had done had been a panacea; something intended to provide short-term relief by blinding Jo to the Otherside.
"Somewhere along the way, though, you learned some control, right?" Evan pulled down Jo's shirt and motioned for her to turn around.
Jo shifted around with a grunt, then felt Evan's hands raise her shirt again. "Um, yeah. Not like you can take lessons at your local community college." She bent forward at the pressure of Evan's hands, and soon felt the brush again. "Anyway, I just kinda fell into it by accident. A friend of mine bought this house that turned out to be haunted. I went there to help. Next thing I know, I'm chasing friggin' ogres, or dealing with fox spirits and shit. I read a lot; best thing my old man ever did for me was get me a library card."
"You mean to tell me you've had NO formal training? No training at all?" Evan was so shocked she stopped her brushstrokes.
Craning her head around, Jo replied, "What? Like I could just walk into my neighborhood coven and say, 'Excuse me, but I'm psychic and I have this little problem I'm hoping you can help me with.' I wish. I just try and keep up, that's all, do the best I can. I make a fairly decent living, enough to keep me in beer and pizza, anyhow. And pay the insurance on my piece of shit land-yacht."
Evan didn't reply; she continued the scrolling design she was painting on the other woman's back, and silently vowed to make sure she found a good teacher for Jo before... IF I have to leave, she corrected herself, then shook her head and picked up more oil on her brush.
The symbols were finished. Jo whipped her shirt off and stood before a full- length mirror in a corner of her small apartment, admiring Evan's work. "This is too cool!," she said, twisting her head around to see the design painted low on her back, and another to cover the area where her heart would be. "I gotta get copies of this stuff, Ev! Jeez, Bald Henry's gonna go apeshit when he sees this!"
Evan leaned back on the arm of the sofa, her mouth pinched. She was tired, so tired... "Who's Bald Henry?," she asked.
"My tattoo artist. He designed my dragon. I wanted this geisha chick on my back, but I think I'm gonna have him duplicate your drawings."
Evan chuckled. "Well, that's probably a good idea, considerin' your line of work. I'll have to show you how to activate them..." She broke off, remembering she might not be around when Jo had the markings permanently engraved on her flesh.
"Um, Ev? How do I turn this off?" Jo waved at her eyes. "I mean, the lightshow's neat and all, but I think it'd be kind of a distraction while I was driving or something."
Evan twisted her fingers in Jo's direction and muttered something, and Jo's normal eyesight returned. She looked back into the mirror and saw the symbols were no longer apparent. "They're still there, right?"
"Yes." Evan licked her lips. "Mind if I take you up on your beer offer now?"
"Shit! I mean, yeah, sure, hang on a sec." Jo carried her shirt in one hand and went to the refrigerator, grabbing a pair of bottles from the interior. Good old Sam Adams, she thought, returning and handing a bottle to Evan.
The orange-haired woman smiled slightly. "Bottle opener?"
Jo grinned. "No prob." She took the bottle back and twisted the cap off, bicep bulging. "I used to pop 'em off with my teeth, but I hadda quit when this bottle slipped and snapped one of the front ones in half." At Evan's raised eyebrows, she shrugged and plopped back down on the sofa. "Bar trick to impress the babes."
Evan took a sip of beer. "I'm goin' to have to go out for a while," she said, trying to focus on Jo's face and not her exposed breasts. "I need to... pick up some supplies."
"Sure." Jo put her feet up on the coffee table, beer bottle swinging casually from one hand. "Want me to give you a lift?"
"Thanks for the offer, but no." The last thing Evan wanted was for Jo to see her in... well, in her shiftself without any warning. "I'm goin' outside the city a while. I'll be back before nightfall. In the meantime, I suggest you get somethin' to eat, maybe take a walk in the park or read a book, and RELAX. You've been on edge a long time."
"Whadda I do if fuckface comes back?"
Evan grinned. "Pray to the deity of your choice... and run like hell. Here," she continued, tossing Jo the keys to her apartment. "If the demon really does try again - and I don't think it will, at least for a while; I hurt it pretty badly - then get to my place as quick as you can. It's fully warded; nothin' short of a god is gettin' in there without an invitation."
Jo snickered. "Gee... It's not even our first date and already you're giving me the key to your apartment."
Evan rose and walked to the front door. "Just don't break anything." With that, she departed, closing the door behind her.
Jo sat there thoughtfully a moment, enjoying the first peace she'd known in weeks. You know, she mused, I have no idea why I opened up to Evan like that. I just met her, but already it seems like I've known her forever... I've never met anybody I've been so, well, comfortable with. Not in a long time...
Abruptly, she stood and pulled her shirt on, then donned a pair of scuffed and scarred boots. Crossing to the front door, she reached out and grabbed a worn leather jacket from a hook screwed into the wall, shrugging into it and patting one pocket to make sure she had HER keys.
"What the hell," she said aloud. "I'm as curious as the next girl."
Jo left, intent on following Evan... no other thought in mind but to learn what she could of the woman she already, if instinctively, considered a friend.
Evan didn't bother going back to her own apartment; she left the building and stepped directly into the cab that drew smoothly up to the curb. The driver was a small man and incredibly hairy; dirt-brown hair cascading over his forehead and beyond his shoulders, a thick beard buried his face almost up to the eyebrows.
His glittering brown eyes sought Evan's in the rearview mirror. "The usual?," he grunted. His voice was odd; husky and deep, yet at the same time carrying light musical undertones, almost as if an oboe and a flute were playing a duet. She nodded, leaning back against the cracked leather seat as the cab pulled away and headed down the street. The morning rush hour traffic had dissipated; they had fairly clear sailing all the way to her destination.
"How's Laurel?," Evan asked after a while.
The driver grunted again. "Okay," he replied shortly, then after a moment, "Need help?"
"No, I don't think so, 'Restes. I'm goin' out for a run; I need to rest a bit and relax." Evan stared out of the window, barely noticing the click of the driver's hooves as he manipulated the brake and gas pedals. Orestes was a satyr; his incredible mop of hair concealed the two tiny horns that rose up from his forehead. He and Laurel, a dryad, had been together for centuries, long before the pre-cursor of this city had risen like a cancer on the woodlands that had been here before.
Most mortals don't know it, Evan mused, but many of their myths dwell among them. Even if imperfectly blended, but the human mind has a great capacity for self-denial and self-deception. She knew ghouls who worked as funeral home directors or state pathologists; ogres and trolls employed as bouncers in nightclubs or as enforcers for organized crime; she'd even seen Astarte Herself working a highly successful string of call girls out of an exotic dancing club downtown called Babylon High.
And as for myself... I pass, I blend... and I'll keep on doin' it, too. I've no other choice.
In complete silence, the cab sped down the streets.
Jo followed the taxi cab at a discreet distance, weaving behind cars, careful to keep from being spotted. She didn't know how Evan had gotten a ride so quickly - no way she'd had time to call a cab company, fer Chrissake - but she chalked it up to yet another mystery to be solved.
The cab soon left the city behind, headed for the suburbs... then beyond to the large wooded area that had been designated a state park. Jo parked her car at a discreet distance and waited as Evan exited the cab, leaning over and speaking to the driver, who afterward drove his vehicle away, leaving the orange-haired woman standing at the gated entrance.
Evan went inside after paying the entrance fee; in a few moments, Jo followed, digging a couple of wrinkled and faded dollar bills out of the pocket of her jeans and being waved inside by a sour-faced attendant in a too-tight, food spotted uniform.
Evan walked briskly down the pine-needle strewn trail, seemingly having a destination in mind. Jo, baseball cap pulled down over her forehead, kept her in sight but was prepared to duck behind the nearest bush or whatever if Evan turned around.
She never did. After a bit, Evan turned off the trail, moving deeper into the woods; with a deep breath, Jo followed, wincing every time her feet crunched into last year's dead leaves.
When Evan reached a clearing surrounded by enormous trees, Jo crouched down, concealed in greenery, and prepared to watch. I got no clue as to what's going on here, she thought, but damned if I'm not as intrigued as hell.
Evan spread her arms out wide, nostrils flaring as she took deep breaths of the crisp forest air. Then she closed her eyes, reached down deep inside... and changed into her shiftself.
Jo gasped as Evan's form melted, sort of... it was difficult to tell just exactly what was happening; her eyes didn't want to focus, kept sliding away from the blurred image... but in the space between one heartbeat and the next, Evan was gone and in her place stood an enormous wolf, easily twice the size of the normal North American kind.
The wolf's fur was the same brilliant orange as Evan's hair had been, and its eyes the same stormy gray. A slightly stiff mane of hair stood up around the wolf's neck, and her tail was a tangerine plume that wagged once or twice before settling down.
Evan lifted her muzzle and sniffed, lips unconsciously drawing back to expose long, razor sharp fangs. Although her senses were keener than most humans when she wore skin, in her shiftself they were unbelievably sensitive. An elusive scent drifted on the slight breeze; her forehead wrinkled as she tried to place it.
Jo clamped down on the yell of surprise and shock that threatened to leap out of her chest, and fought to stay still, her fingers digging into the dirt convulsively. Fuck me!, she thought wildly. Evan's a goddamn werewolf!
Evan whirled around, facing the stand of greenery where Jo was concealed. Her fangs were exposed and gleaming, and a deep growl rumbled low in her chest as she leaped...
"Christ!" Jo scrambled backwards, twigs snapping beneath her flailing arms as she tried to avoid the wolf's attack. But she lost her balance and fell, sprawled on her back in the dirt and as helpless as a child.
The wolf landed directly on top of Jo, straddling her, a pair of big paws on either side of Jo's head. Jo looked up... directly into a muzzle full of the sharpest, meanest looking teeth she'd ever seen in her life. Drawing a tiny breath, Jo whispered, "help."
Evan was furious, both at Jo AND herself. Scathach's Tits!, she thought blasphemously. Why now? And why didn't I sense her followin' me? She lowered her massive head and sniffed the terrified woman beneath her, checking for blood or pain scents; even angry, she wanted to make sure Jo hadn't suffered any damage from her fall.
Now what?, Evan said to herself as Jo stayed frozen in place, barely breathing. I can't communicate with her, and I surely don't want to shift back into skin, not when I've gone to the trouble of donnin' fur. Damn the woman for her curiosity! She's as bad as Bluebeard's wives! I didn't want this, not now... Maybe not ever.
Then an idea struck her. Jo WAS psychic, after all...
Carefully, she reached out a probe, pushing it past the shields she'd fashioned around Jo, and mentally said, ::Can you hear me, colleen?::
Jo came close to leaping out of her skin when she heard the familiar voice INSIDE her skull. Aloud, she said, "Uh-huh," and nodded carefully, thinking, I left the fuckin' Beretta at the house like the world's biggest asshole... I gotta play along here. Maybe I'll survive this after all.
The "voice" chuckled. ::I can hear you, you know. And aye, you'll survive all right.:: The wolf's gray eyes held a glint of amusement. ::If I let you up, will you promise not to run?::
Jo nodded again, feeling her heart fluttering in her chest.
Evan backed away, then sat down, tongue lolling out of her muzzle in a wolfish laugh. ::I can catch you if you try to run,:: she sent. ::Just calm down, Jo. I'm not a big bad wolf, and you're no Little Red Riding Hood, either.::
Jo sat up, her baseball cap lying forgotten where it lay after being knocked off by her fall. "Um... so tell me something, uh, Evan..." Abruptly, Jo felt anger welling up in a mighty wave; she felt humiliated, betrayed and really, really pissed. "WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE??!!," she yelled. Echoes of her shout bounced through the forest, scaring every living thing in miles.
Evan winced. ::I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. What would you have liked me to have done? Said, oh, and by the way, I spend part of my life in a fur coat chasin' rabbits? Believe me, I intended to tell you... if I thought you could handle it.::
Jo panted, then with a convulsive heave, got to her feet, dusting off the seat of her jeans. "GodDAMMIT, Ev! You scared the shit outta me! And whaddya mean with that crap, 'if I thought you could handle it?' I know we haven't known each other all that long, less than a friggin' day in fact, but didja really think I wouldn't find out eventually?"
Woman and wolf stared at one another... and it was the wolf who lowered her eyes first. ::My apologies,:: she sent. ::I meant no insult. It's just that... well, most mortal folk who find out usually react in one of two ways. Half want to turn me into a circus exhibit; the other half start meltin' down the family silver to turn into bullets.::
Jo huffed. "Honestly, Ev. You know what I do for a living. I've seen stranger shit go down. Christ! Give a woman a little warning next time; you scared five years offa me, I swear."
::I'm sorry.:: The wolf looked as contrite as a being could whose face was covered in fur. ::Listen... I have some business to do here. Why don't you go back to your car and go home. I'll be a few hours yet, but I promise I'll explain when I return. All right?::
Jo thought a moment. "All right," she said slowly, then pointed a finger at Evan. "But I'm expecting an explanation the minute you walk in the door, okay? And it wouldn't hurt to pick up a pizza as a peace offering."
Evan sighed. ::I will.:: She rose and shook herself, settling her flamboyant fur back into place. ::I'm truly sorry I frighted you, colleen.:: She trotted over to Jo, who flinched back a little but stood her ground. Carefully, Evan thrust her muzzle into Jo's hand and licked her fingers lightly. ::I'll see you before nightfall,:: she sent, then nuzzling Jo's hand again, ghosted away into the forest.
Jo stood there, watching the she-wolf vanish. Her fingers still tingled from the rasp of Evan's tongue... "What the HELL am I thinking?," she said aloud in exasperation, running a hand through her platinum blonde hair. "Tate, the ASPCA would probably have you arrested, so just lock it down, babe. Besides... ain't she a bit hairy to be your type?"
Bending, she snatched her baseball cap up off the ground, jammed it back on her head, then turned around and tromped away... Unaware that a pair of gray eyes watched, and a pair of sensitive ears listened.
Evan, back in her skinshape, tapped on the door then let herself into Jo's apartment, a flat pizza box balanced on the palm of one hand. As promised, it was only dusk, a red giant sun sinking slowly behind the skyscrapers and radio towers.
"Um, Jo?," she said, walking in hesitantly. "I brought your pizza."
"C'mon in, Lassie," came Jo's voice, and Evan shut the door behind her and entered the apartment fully.
Jo was perched on the sofa, bare footed once again. "Anchovies?," she asked, uncoiling her long length from the faded and patched leather seat.
Evan wrinkled her nose and decided to ignore the Lassie remark. "Ugh! Who eats hairy fish?"
Jo bit her lip, but it was too good to pass up. "I do," she said with a leer, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.
For a moment, Evan was non-plussed, but the meaning behind Jo's remark finally dawned and she flushed. "Oh, uh... Okay. Sure," she mumbled, sliding the pizza box on the counter of the tiny kitchen.
"So, what do werewolves eat when they're to home?," Jo asked, picking up the lid of the box and inhaling... Ah, she thought, cheese, sausage, pepperoni, onions, extra garlic, mushrooms and peppers... Paradise! I can feel my arteries clogging already.
Evan raised one brow. "You know, you're takin' all this a bit too calmly, colleen. Are you sure you're all right?"
Jo lifted a steaming slice from the box, jiggling the strands of molten mozzarella until they either fell off or came with. Taking a big bite, she chewed and swallowed before answering. "Well... I had some time to think it over while you were gone. The way I figure it is: if you really wanted to kill me, you coulda done it last night when I was passed out. Or you just coulda waited for the demon to do it for you. Now, don't get me wrong - I'm still not sure I'm okay with all this wolf business - but at least I'm not gonna freak out on you or nothing." She bit into the pizza again, managing to cram most of the rest of the slice in her mouth.
Evan smiled. Jo didn't know it, but the mental probe she'd sent was still in place, and her surface thoughts resonated down the link. And by Kernossus, Evan thought, she's tellin' the truth! Evan quickly terminated the psychic link from her end but left the strand in place; it would come in handy should Jo ever see her in her shiftself again, but she didn't want to frighten the other woman by reading her thoughts uninvited.
Jo munched her way happily through three more slices before emitting a contented belch. "S'cuse me," she said without a trace of embarrassment, wiping her chin free of red sauce with a paper towel. "My stomach thought my throat'd been cut. Now, lemme grab a beer and you can tell me all about how come it ain't no full moon, and there you were in the forest doing your Rexette the Wonder Dog routine."
Evan followed Jo out into the living room, electing to sit in a battered armchair instead of the sofa. Jo frowned slightly, but swigged her beer and didn't say anything. Shit, it's not like we're married or anything, she thought. In fact, we haven't even had a friggin' date yet! So let her sit where she wants, but her ass is gonna get sore after a while 'cause of that busted spring... hee hee hee...
"How do I begin?," Evan said after a moment, then sighed. "I think it best I show you somethin' first."
Both of Jo's pale brows rose. "Show me?," she asked.
Without answering, Evan took off the shirt she wore and turned slightly in the chair.. and Jo caught her breath.
Engraved on Evan's back and covering her from shoulders to waist was a tattoo in dark blue, but somehow so subtly shaded despite the single color that Jo could've sworn she was looking at a painting. Trees, a moon, snow... It appeared to be a landscape, but suddenly Jo's sight shifted, and she saw it was also a picture of a wolf, staring back at her with all the wisdom of the world in its eyes...
"Jeez! Where'd you get that done?" Jo got up and crossed over to the chair, running one hand lightly down Evan's back, then twisting the other woman slightly so she would get a better look. "That's gotta be the best work I've ever seen." Jo also noticed that Evan had another tattoo, also dark blue, on her upper right arm - this one a stylized circle with spirals that seemed flowerlike, yet at the same time reminded her of spearpoints. "Got any more?"
Evan smiled. "Yes," she replied shyly, then pulled her shirt back over her head, much to Jo's disappointment. In her tattoo-admiration frenzy, she'd not gotten a chance to really see the other woman's breasts. Oh, well, Jo thought, slouching back over to the couch and sitting down. Maybe next time.
As Jo took another swig of beer, Evan said, "As to where I got them... They were placed on me during a ritual that took thirty days and thirty nights." She rubbed her suddenly sweaty palms on her leggings; this would be the hardest part. "The woad's stood up pretty well, don't you think, considerin' it was done more than two thousand years ago."
Beer spewed all over the coffee table as Jo choked.
"WHAT?!!"
Evan nodded. "Aye, colleen. You're lookin' at a very old woman indeed."
"Well, gawd, Ev, you hardly look a day over three hundred." Jo wiped her lips with the back of her hand and noticed her fingers were trembling slightly. She willed them to be still.
"I had scant choice in the matter. You see, Jo, when I was a young girl, my parents gave me over to the Druids for trainin'. I had the gifts, you see, both of magic and also the family blessing. One of my ancestors did a favor once for Lugh Light-Spear - one of the old gods - and was blessed for it by bein' gifted with the shiftself. It skips generations; as far as I know, bein' as how I've had no children and don't have any direct descendants, I'm the last of my clan to be so." Evan twisted a strand of bright orange hair around her finger absently.
"Ooooo-kay," Jo replied, sitting back again and staring at the other woman. "And this explains your age... how?"
"T'was in the time when Gaius Julius Caesar thought to conquer Gaul. My people were just one of the many tribes who fought the Roman invasion; at the time, I was just finishin' my trainin' and was about to be initiated fully into the mysteries."
Jo screwed her eyes up, probing her memory. "Um... That woulda been around, what, 54, 53 B.C., something like that?"
Evan nodded. "Yes, although the calendar we used reckoned the years somewhat differently. One of my Druid teachers, Uilliam, had a prophetic dream durin' my initiation ceremony."
Evan remembered as if it was yesterday... The old man, his wattled and sagging skin marked by woad and splashed with the blood of the sacrifice, falling to the floor in ecstasy as the gods granted him a terrible vision. She sighed. "He saw the comin' of the Christus, the crucified one who would supplant our gods... I was chosen to remain behind; to give up death and the hope of rebirth in order to preserve the knowledge and the magic for a time when the gates would be opened and the old gods returned from exile."
"I see." Jo lifted the beer bottle to her lips, then put it down again when she realized it was empty. "So you've been roaming around for two thousand friggin' years?"
"Close enough as to make no difference. I've lived in most parts of the world; fought on many battlefields, both mundane and otherwise. And I've learned from many different traditions; my approach to magic is somewhat eclectic, but I doubt my teachers would disapprove. Only... don't be mistaken, Jo. I'm NOT a werewolf, not as you believe them to be."
"Uh-huh. So... Wolfsbane cocktail ain't gonna work?"
For the first time since she'd sat down, Evan smiled. "Afraid not. Nor will silver bullets. I'm not invulnerable; I can be hurt, even wounded mortally. But given a chance, I heal fast, as many an enemy has found to his disadvantage. Also, I'm not bound by the moon phases; I can change to my shiftself anytime I choose."
"Assuming you're not loco, and I'm not hallucinating or stuck in a hospital somewhere with tubes up my nose... What now?"
Evan spread her hands. "Up to you. I understand if you don't want to be friends with me; after this demon business is finished, I'll leave you be if you want. I warn you, though... I've no desire to end up in a zoo somewhere, or in a lab bein' vivisected for the sake of science. What I am is a secret, and I prefer it remain such."
Jo nodded her agreement. "Sure, I can see why you'd feel that way. Hey, c'mon! I trusted you, right? You think I wanna end up in some Vegas act? Or worse yet, in a padded cell?" She rubbed her nose, thinking furiously. Aw, what the hell, she thought, taking a deep breath and plunging in. "I know we just kinda met, and under some pretty fuckin' weird circumstances... But I like you, Ev. Really. And I'd like the chance to get to know you better."
Evan had studied human nature a long time... and to all her senses and innate instinct, Jo seemed sincere. "I'd like to get to know you, as well," she replied.
Blue eyes gazed into stormy gray... and finally Jo heaved herself off the couch with a grunt. "Wanna beer?," she asked, loping into the kitchen.
"Sure," Evan called... rising and moving over to the couch to sit down again.
The demon whimpered softly, licking its wounds with a long, black tongue. The wolf-woman had hurt it, but not too badly; right now it was in pain, but would heal while wrapped in the supernatural fires of its home... Hell.
Eridu was a childe of Azrael, demon of corruption. As it lifted burning waters from a pool to soothe its face, its "father" - in the form of a dark, greasy cloud of roiling mist - drifted up.
"AND HAST THOU COMPLETED THY TASK, MY CHILDE?," Azrael asked. It's voice was changeable and changing; at the moment, it sounded like a woman racked by the throes of either orgasm or intense agony.
"The pale woman will be mine, Lord," Eridu hissed, bowing at the waist. "As soon as I am well, I return to the mortal world."
"BE WARNED, ERIDU. I DO NOT TOLERATE FAILURE."
"This is known, Lord." Eridu bowed again, this time lower than before. "I but toyed with the woman in past times; now I am in earnest, and have given the matter much thought. In twice seven days will come the waning moon, when the dark powers are at their strongest. Then shall I strike."
"GOOD." Azrael's voice had changed again; now it was the bellowing of a man gone insane. "THE MORTAL IS POWERFUL, AND HER LIFE HAS BEEN RECORDED BY OUR INCORRUPTIBLE COUSINS AS A FORCE FOR THE LIGHT. IT AMUSES ME TO SNATCH HER FROM THEIR GRASP AND CAUSE CHAOS IN THE UPPER REALM. THIS WILL BE A COUP FOR OUR DREAD EMPEROR; ANOTHER STRIKE AGAINST THE ONES ABOVE."
Eridu shuddered at Azrael's mention of the Incorruptibles and the Ones Above; it knew its Lord referred to the Bright Servants of The-One-Who-Cannot-Be- Named. "Yes, Lord," it said. Dark tears of blood sizzled down its cheeks as it said earnestly, "I will not fail you. The woman's spirit and power will be yours, and her flesh mine. I will wreak havoc on the mortal realm before I am finished, and there will be such a harvesting of souls that the Morningstar will be well pleased, indeed."
Azrael's voice was that of a child who has slain its parents and laughs mockingly at the horror it has wrought. "SEE THAT YOU DO NOT FAIL, ERIDU. OR IT WILL BE THY FLESH THAT IS DEVOURED BY THY BRETHREN, AND THY SPIRIT THAT FLEES HOWLING INTO THE ABYSS." With that, Azrael drifted away again.
Eridu shivered and clenched its hands into fists, ignoring the way its claws cut into the flesh of its palms. Oh, no, Lord, it vowed silently, I will not fail. Vengeance shall be mine.
It returned to its task, thinking all the while it sunk slowly into the pool of flames. I must be rid of the
wolf-woman, it thought. She is the obstacle that stands between me and my goal... And after a while, an idea came...
and Eridu showed its shark-like fangs in a purely evil grin.
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If you have enjoyed Bardwynna's "Mirror, Mirror On The Wall", then please be certain to e-mail her at Wynna1[at]yahoo.com and thank her for posting this Story.
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