by S E Holmes
Nimbus miscalculated his landing and rematerialised on the edge of a small pebbly hill. He promptly lost balance and toppled over the side, causing a minor landslide that brought shale and grit down on his head, when he finally landed in a dirty disgruntled heap at the bottom.
Jam glanced over the side. “Are you injured?”
“You mean aside from wounded pride,” Nimbus grumbled as he slowly got to his feet. He patted his robe, sending dust clouds to the sky. “No, I’m not hurt. Thanks for the concern!” he replied loudly.
“I was not asking out of sympathy, just checking to ensure you are alive to hear me laughing hysterically! Would you like me to make you a chart next time?”
“I had no idea the Underworld could produce such comic genius!”
“Laughter is the single leisure we are allowed. And it must be rationed. Such freedom to express it at will is a gift beyond measure.”
The reminder of how many things he took for granted, did not improve his mood. Nimbus scrambled crab-like up the gritty mound. Eventually he joined a smirking Jam at the top and they picked their way through the arid scrubland, avoiding scraggy bushes with long noxious-looking thorns that dripped an awful smelling substance. They were making for the centre of the island, where Circe lived, according to Bacchus.
“That is the paralysis plant. If you prick yourself on its spines you will become immobile for two days. Beneath its roots lives a colony of carnivorous ants that respond to the vibrations on the ground as you fall, and come looking for dinner. They take nutrients from the dead below to feed the living of their kind and nourish the roots of the shrub. It is a perfect symbiotic relationship … and a very agonising way to die! We have fields of those at home.”
“Charming!” Nimbus muttered, giving the horrid trees an even wider berth. “It’s not so symbiotic for the one eaten alive.”
“It is a lesson in vigilance.”
The place was creepy. At regular intervals, bleached animal skeletons dotted the landscape with strange runes and symbols etched onto the bone, their vacant eye sockets and wasted sneers a grim warning to stay away. Leathery skins from a large scaly reptile Nimbus did not recognise were draped over some of the gaunt leafless trees, offering scant shade in a hideous imitation of umbrellas. The unrelenting sun beat upon them and even though, technically, Nimbus didn’t need to drink, he felt parched in the merciless heat. A ramshackle hut came into view and did nothing to ease his anxiety.
“Nice!” Jam commented, glancing around appreciatively.
Chained to four crooked posts supporting the rickety veranda were animated versions of the skins they’d seen. Nimbus shuddered; they belonged to large Monitors with two stubby legs where only one should have been, making a total of eight to heighten its lightening burst of speed on the hunt. Two forked tongues slipped in and out of its crushing jaw and tasted the air for new prey. Each reptilian head had three beady eyes, one sat higher on its forehead, which stared greedily in Nimbus and Jam’s direction, as they cautiously approached.
“Assault lizards, how cute,” Jam exclaimed.
Nimbus gave Jam a wary sideways glance -- he was clearly mentally unhinged. The door of the shack flew open and a screaming harridan propelled herself at them, wild grey hair flying about her head, grimy robes askew. “Get out of here! You are trespassing on private property! Don’t force me to release my pets!”
Nimbus raised his hands in surrender. “We come in peace!” he called lamely.
“That’s what they said to the Indians and look what happened to them!” Circe moved over to the lizard closest to them. It enthusiastically strained against its tether, growling and hissing in anticipation of flesh-yielding sport.
“You can jump in at any point!” Nimbus irritably urged Jam.
“Don’t worry, it will be quick if it gets you!” Jam seemed to be enjoying himself.
“Is that supposed to be encouraging? You obviously failed supportive counselling for those about to be torn to shreds and digested in the belly of a monster!”
“Stay still you stupid worm!” The Witch struggled to free the writhing beast. “It’s too hot in the middle of the day to be exercising! I’m working up a powerful sweat!” It was true. Nimbus could smell her from where he stood and wrinkled his nose.
Jam abruptly presented by her side. “Please, allow me to assist you.”
She stopped trying to undo the lead and gaped at Jam. Nimbus knew it! The Devil’s Spawn was not to be trusted. How could he have been so gullible? He readied to flee, herbs or no herbs. Jam succeeded in untying the leash and the abomination of a lizard sprang loose. But instead of charging at Nimbus it spun and jumped up onto Jam, placing its claws on his chest and feathering his face with its tongues. It spasmed strangely and Nimbus realised, that like Buttercup, the thing was gleefully wagging its tail. Jam laughed and patted the scaly beast’s armour-plated head. He apparently had a special way with gruesome creatures.
“Who are you!” Circe demanded.
“Down!” Jam commanded and the monitor dropped to its stomach and grovelled pathetically on the ground at his feet. “I am Jomjael of the Fallen. At your service, Madam.” He gallantly kissed her hand and her cheeks flushed girlishly. “My friends call me Jam.”
“You sure do have a way about you, Jam.” She smiled coyly and batted her eyelashes. Jam beamed smugly over her shoulder at Nimbus and winked. Jam apparently had a special way with temperamental elderly hags too!
Nimbus sighed in disbelief. Jam would be impossible now. He tramped over to them. The lizard rumbled menacingly, raising its head in the hope of a meal.
“Watch it, sonny! Undoubtedly you don’t have Jam here’s talent.”
“Yes, he sure is full of ‘talent’!” Nimbus mocked. “I’m Nimbus and we’d like to make a purchase please, if possible.”
“Not so fast, sonny.” She paid no more than bare attention to Nimbus. She was all for Jam. “Don’t have visitors too often and I’ll be expecting you to take tea with me ‘afore we barter. Come and sit a spell, while I pretty up.”
Nimbus thought miserably this would definitely take quite some time. She gazed seductively at Jam.
“You are as pretty as a fresh young maiden, my exquisite Circe!” he said.
Nimbus felt instantly nauseous and discreetly searched for a vessel to vomit in. He didn’t know how, but it was the sentiment that counted. They entered her home and seated themselves on the moth-eaten couch. Nimbus looked around the grungy room with all manner of gross shrivelled rodents and pungent branches hanging from the ceiling to cure. He pleaded with the Fates he was not required to eat anything, possibly facing a Monitor the better option. It appeared tame enough, with its ugly head resting on Jam’s lap like a travesty of a puppy, but Nimbus was not willing to risk a finger to test his theory.
“So, we’ve dumped Celestial already, huh?” Nimbus goaded in a whisper, thinking perhaps his hex had finally worn off.
“It’s an act, you moron! I have only one true beloved and am loyal to her for as long as I live!” Jam snapped. Nimbus was sorely disappointed.
A tantalising scent assailed their nostrils and both inhaled deeply. At the doorway Circe emerged, a vision of perfection with waist-length silken black tresses, smooth shining olive skin and an amply endowed figure, clothed in a filmy, flowing gown. Her face was the most beautiful Nimbus had ever seen, not counting his own. Both he and Jam were instantly lovesick.
She floated over and demurely perched herself between them, an immaculate porcelain tea set materialising on the table in front. Circe reached over and poured each a tiny cupful of the aromatic brew. In her enchanting company, Nimbus’s worries faded away. He wanted to stay here always with this intoxicating goddess. His dreamy expression was reflected on Jam’s face, who gazed reverently at their host. She flourished a hand gracefully, indicating they should retrieve their drinks. As Nimbus bent over to do so, Skylar’s pendant fell into view.
Circe caught sight of it in her peripheral vision and lo
st interest in Jam, who slumped over in a neglected coma. Less competition, Nimbus reflected contentedly. The Witch focused on Nimbus.
“That is a beautiful charm you wear,” she said, pressing herself closer.
Nimbus got goose bumps. “Look what it does!” he gushed like a flattered schoolboy, trying to impress.
He grasped Skylar’s gift, its chilly smoothness beneath his touch. Nimbus awoke as though slapped, but Circe was too entranced by the trinket to notice. Their vital mission came flooding back to his mind. He blinked and the fawning, glamorous nymphette next to him returned to her true form: a hideous and conniving ancient crone with missing teeth and steel wool hair, whose intentions were less than savoury.
Nimbus pretended he was still under her spell. He gave Circe his broadest smile and rubbed the amulet. A cool refreshing wind rustled softly through the room, like Nirvana in the claustrophobic heat of the island. Circe turned her face to the breeze and closed her eyes in relief. He paused, noting Circe’s increasing disappointment as his weather transformation grew fainter and cloying warmth dominated, once again.
“Bring it back!” she ordered.
“Do not be upset attractive lady,” he soothed. “It is simply a matter of rubbing the vial.”
“Do it! Do it!” she shrieked. In the periphery, Jam twitched violently and roused from his enthralled slumber to gaze around in confusion.
“I offer you the amulet in exchange for the goods on this list,” Nimbus said loudly, hoping Jam would not blow their only advantage. The Dark Angel radiated outrage, whether at being duped by this impostor or mortified that he could so easily stray from his beloved, Nimbus could not guess.
“Give it to me.” She gestured impatiently, nails as yellow as ram’s horn.
Circe checked the list and left the room, as did the hypnotic fragrance and any lingering vestige of her allure. In front of them on the table, replacing the false version of the petite crockery, sat a bubbling cauldron, its fetid contents plopping and spitting. Bile rose in Nimbus’ throat at the realisation were it not for Skylar, they might have drunk the gloop. Maybe she’d hang them from the roof to desiccate over centuries, plucking their eyeballs to flavour her stew. He vowed never to criticise the Queen’s gifts again.
“‘Loyal to her for as long as I live,’ I believe were the words!” Nimbus murmured in Jam’s ear. The lizard hissed dangerously and he had a most satisfying image of tipping the boiling sludge over the beast.
Jam looked desperately ashamed. “It was a minor lapse! I cannot be held accountable for that old Witch’s wiles! Please, do not tell Celestial of my dishonour. I beseech you!”
“Holy scroll. Get a grip. I was only joking.”
Jam had no chance to answer. Circe returned toting many small satchels fastened with string. She plonked them into his lap and Nimbus gathered them together and secreted them securely in the folds of his robe.
“Thank you! Stories of your legendary skill in the botanical arts are not inflated!”
Nimbus stalled, while he tried to figure out how to leave without invoking her ire. The witch resituated between them, indicating with a toothless grin it was time to drink their ‘tea’ -- a highly unappetising proposal. She held out her hand to collect Nimbus’s pendant in payment for the herbs.
“I wonder if you might check the list once more. The pleasure of your company will be so much sweeter when I am assured our business is complete.” Nimbus rubbed the cooling vial to allay her temper. She reluctantly complied, squinting to inspect the list closely. Suddenly, Circe’s interest heightened.
“I know the undeserving hand that tracked this ink across parchment!” Blotches of florid colour marred her cheeks as her voice gained volume. “That scabrous leech. That devious double-dealing parasite!”
Uh-oh! Bacchus and his skulduggery, always blowing back on others.
“May he rot in the bowels of the colossal crab that scavenges the cess pits of the lowest dungeons!” He couldn’t agree more. “You dare come here on an errand for Bacchus?” she screeched.
“The very one who stole my father Helios’s golden chariot to drunkenly joy ride the skies, running into a comet and dinting the fender!” Circe raved hysterically. “I was blamed for the damage and grounded for an entire season. I missed the summer solstice ball! I had to pay the Smith-God Hephaestus a small fortune in repair bills. And Bacchus took my sister to the celebrations!”
The Monitors outside could be heard howling and pulling frantically at their bonds as her shouts amplified, unstable posts creaking against the strain. It was definitely time for the Angels to make their leave. Nimbus rose inconspicuously, while the Witch was busy ranting and inched bit by careful bit towards the door.
“As if that was not sufficiently rotten! That leprous bilge-rat sold me a batch of bad newts at an exorbitantly inflated price during the universal shortage.”
Circe seemed to be lost in furious recollection, yelling more to herself than those present. It was the opportune time to exit and Nimbus made a ‘move it’ face at Jam, who was furthest from the door, blanketed by a lizard. Jam grimaced back ‘how?’, to which Nimbus shrugged ‘be creative’. Jam hoisted the Monitor under his arm and edged around the low-lying table.
Circe added waving arms to her rant. The lounge creaked under the onslaught, springs popping, as she ventured into the past.
“Bac-arse blamed the solar eclipse for the scarcity. Didn’t appease my father though, when I told him spoiled newt was the problem, after accidentally turning his prized Ebony Sphinx into a mewling white house cat! Was it my fault my Centipede Python was hungry and swallowed the dumb kitten? Who likes cats anyway? Except for those fickle Egyptians? AND NOW I’M EXILED ON THIS WRETCHED SPIT OF SAND!”
Her head snapped up and she glowered wickedly at the sight of Nimbus and Jam tiptoeing out the door. She stood and raised her hands. They grew to huge proportions, arced lightening crackling and fizzing about the room from her elongated talons. Circe’s voice crashed behind them.
“Bacchus the goat will receive his penance when I turn his friends into toejam and send them to reside in suffocatingly intolerable foot odour under the nails of Magog the Giant!”
“Fly!” Nimbus yelled, not wasting a backwards glance as he spread his wings and hurled himself airborne from Circe’s home.
He soared rapidly skyward, concentrating on listening for the whoosh of Jam following, perceiving no evidence of flapped pursuit. He risked a glimpse over his shoulder. Beneath was utter mayhem. Jam sprinted across the clearing in front of Circe’s home, the façade of which disintegrated, as her brutes tore the supporting beams down and ran after the fleeing Angel. When Jam cleared the turmoil, just as the first of the lizards snapped at his heels, he jumped and shot into the air, leaving them rabidly circling and baying in his wake.
Circe could be heard roaring from under the ruins of her hut. After a mighty bellow she broke through the debris, her contorted face evident. Lightening bolts started spot fires in the wood of her destroyed shack, setting fire to her hair so that it flamed like a match, extinguishing to leave her scalp with alternate clumps of smouldering melted hair and charred bald patches. She spat and swore at them as they fled. It would be quite a while before she could again convincingly play the attractive vamp to trap the unsuspecting.
Jam triumphantly whooped up to Nimbus. “You really know how to have fun! That was great!”
“What is that under your arm?” They made for a suitable place to disappear. He felt as though he was turning into a less effective copy of Celestial with all the nagging he was forced to do in her absence. Nimbus was glad they were finally on the way to getting her back. His appreciation for her particular talents grew by the second. “Well?”
“Maybe I was over generous with the fun tag,” Jam commented. “The female humans are in the silly habit of carrying animals in their designer handbags. Ugly hairless guinea pigs. I think, I have a much better option!” he said, proudly exhibiting the lizard
he had carried with him from Circe’s. “It would make a great accessory to her range of stylish hats.”
Nimbus took a deep, quelling breath. “Oh for Gaia’s sake! You have pomegranate syrup for brains if you think Celestial will embrace carting Godzilla around in her purse! Drop it now. Or I’ll describe in detail how you flirted with the ungorgeous Circe!”
The fact Jam referred to Celestial’s hats as stylish, confirmed beyond all doubt he was intellectually unbalanced. Wait on, Nimbus puzzled. How did he know so much about her hats?
Jam frowned sulkily, releasing the reptile to watch sadly as it somersaulted towards the earth. “Goodbye Fifi! I hope your landing is a soft one!” Turning back to Nimbus he said primly, “It is the thought that counts!” He refused to utter another word until they reunited with Bacchus at Vulcan’s Forge.
***
Chapter Nine
Cockroach Flambe