by Jill Nojack
Nat breaks in. "Who cares about this? Stick to the point. Our time to help that nice young girl that you all seem to care so much about is running out. What does the writing on the box mean?" I have to say I appreciate her impatience on this.
Robert continues, unruffled. "Doug says the heart is a placeholder. The text indicates the box provides a resting place for Anat's soul to prevent her from continuing on to the next world. And as long as her heart remains in the box, it will always call her back from where she is if she becomes disembodied."
"Okay, so why is that such a big thing?" I ask.
"Because we now know that we can destroy the heart once she's out of Cassie and that will end her interference. As to the second box—what we didn't know is that there was a tomb robbery in Egypt recently. The date coincides with when 'Cassie' was out of town. And the only thing that was taken from a tomb full of priceless artifacts was…" Robert pauses, taking a deep breath.
"Oh, for crying out loud, Robert," Nat interjects, "leave out the drama! This isn't a movie of the week."
He responds with his usual patience. "Do you want to hear this, or do you just want to complain?"
"Yes, Nat, just shush, please." Gilly gives her a cautioning look.
"The only thing that was taken, as I was saying before I was interrupted, was the mummy's heart. Just that. The tomb-robber extracted the heart and left everything else alone. The guards who were posted at the entrance to the tomb are still missing. It's all the talk in the archaeological community, but it's not the kind of thing that hits the world news."
"No video surveillance?"
"I asked. Apparently not. The tomb is several hours into the desert. It's isolated. With two armed guards posted at the only entrance, it probably seemed unnecessary."
"And you think this was Eunice or Anat or whoever she is? She went to Egypt to bring back a mummy's heart?" Gillian asks.
"Yes, I believe we should consider it the most likely scenario. Doug says the symbols on the sarcophagus there picture Ba'al with his sisters, Anat and Ashtarte. The face in the large image at the head of the sarcophagus matches exactly with the face of the god Ba'al depicted with his sisters in various erotic and non-erotic poses on the walls of the tomb."
"Well, that's what the second box was made for then, the hot one, the one that burned me when I tried to take it."
"Perhaps. I'd think so, at least. Protecting itself, possibly," Robert agrees.
Gillian turns to me, her voice soft. "Tom, if she's this ready now to go ahead with what she planned…"
"Like hell!" I explode. "This body is not playing host to a parasitic god."
Gillian reaches over and lays a gentle hand on my knee. "Of course not. Not if this circle of witches has anything to say about it. You're right about that."
It's the only time they agree with each other all day, but Natalie and Robert add their voices to the supportive chorus. I'm not so sure any of it will do any good, but by the Goddess, at least I'll go down fighting.
I still can't sniff out a trace of Tom with any of my best locating spells. Damn him!
The crystal globe hits the wall heavily, rattling the paintings on the walls, then falls with a unsatisfying thud to the carpeted floor of the parlor. I expected it to shatter when I flung it away from me. It should have shown me at least a flicker of Tom when I anointed it with the last smear of the ride-along potion I soaked up from the bottom of the bottle. But its interior stayed blank and clear and unhelpful.
Someone must be helping him. He couldn't hide from me by himself. When I find out who's done this thing, that witch will have nowhere to hide. How dare these creatures continue to interfere?
I know he isn't dead. He can't be. He's the perfect vessel, and it would be too ironic if he'd met his end just as his true usefulness to me was coming to be. No, he's alive. Someone has shielded him from me. It has to be Gillian. She had his hair on her couch, after all.
I walk across the room, pick up the globe, and set it on the table. Then I glare at it until it shatters with a satisfying crack. The lumps of fractured crystal fall in a pile onto the tabletop.
"There, that's what happens to those who defy me."
I pick up the phone. It's time for the coven to mobilize and help me out.
***
I move purposefully toward the witches standing in the clearing in the middle of Corey Woods. Some of them look dazed; none of them talk to any of the others. My command gave them one purpose—to wait in the place they'd been called to. To wait for their Goddess to arrive.
"Around me. Make a circle. Quickly."
They scurry like mice until they form a loose circle with me at their center.
"Now sit." I smile to myself. "Sit like the dogs you are and be good."
I turn slowly to look at their blank faces. They'll come to themselves in an hour or so, but until then, I have a captive audience and enough loaned essence that there's nothing that can stop me from extending my reach and finding Tom, even if he's gone across the country to escape me. It's simply a matter of extracting their energy for my use.
I shuck my pants and jacket, which strips me of all clothing except one of Tom's dashikis. It covers me like a dress, ending halfway down my thighs. I breathe deeply and turn my face to the sky. I can feel the essence of each one of my subjects where they stand. I extend my hands, my fingers spread wide, and the essence flows to me from them. I see the thin, bright, threads the connection makes from the corners of my eyes. I'm the center of a pinwheel made of their immobile bodies.
Their essence empowers me as I reach out, glowing across the trees and further, across the county, seeking the owner of the clothing I wear, comparing the essence of all the creatures I encounter with the tiny flakes of skin left on the dirty clothes from the hamper.
I reach farther and farther still, but there's nothing. Even if he were dead, his body would be detected where it lay. I draw even more power from the witches. I'll suck out their lives entirely if it brings me what I desire. That ancient Winifred is the first to shudder and fall. I let her go. She's given all she can. I don't care.
Zelda falls next, twitching.
I scream to the universe, "WHERE IS HE?". The universe ignores me.
With a flourish, I release the witches, and the ones who have not yet fallen jerk backward like fish on a broken line. I turn and stalk away with my fingertips still glowing.
I wake up energized after Cat's productive hunt the night before. Making french toast with cinnamon and nutmeg as the rest of the household gets moving for the day is a much better use of my time than cowering in a drain pipe. And beating the eggs and cream together is calming. Goddess knows I need some calm.
I've just popped the final piece into the warmer and am setting the table when Robert comes in. The already prominent lines on his forehead and around his eyes are deepened by his tight, worried expression. He carries his cell in his hand. "I just got a call from the Chief of Police, who wondered if an incident last night was 'one of those' he'd want to try to keep quiet. About half of the choir showed up at the hospital, suffering from dehydration, exposure, and exhaustion, as well as being unable to explain much about what happened to them except they'd been in Corey Woods."
His voice breaks and he closes his eyes for a moment. "They had to carry Winnie in. She was in bad shape, unconscious. She didn't make it."
"Sorry, man. Were the two of you close?"
"We grew up together. Winnie, Nat, and I. We all used to play together out in the woods in more innocent times." His voice trails off.
"What are you telling him about the good old days?" Natalie asks as she sashays in, purse dangling from her forearm even at this hour. Gillian follows behind her.
Robert doesn't look like he's up to repeating his story as they take seats at the breakfast table. I fill her in briefly.
"Oh." Natalie's smile fades, then she shakes off whatever she's feeling and says, "No time to be sad, then. It sounds like Anat is on the move, and we
can't afford to wait any longer. Anyone think this wasn't her doing? Sucking the life out of people seems to be her MO."
Robert bows his head toward the table momentarily, studying the patterns his liver spots make on the back of his hands.
I say quietly. "You're thinking about Kevin. I'm sorry." His head bobs minutely. "But I agree, Nat. And we can't keep just reacting. She's after me, so let's give me to her. I'll be the bait. We need to get rid of the bitch. I'm tired of doing this the cautious way. Let's find some anti-possession spell, and I'll suggest she meet me somewhere. We have to try."
Gillian says, "No, you can't be bait. We could lose you, too."
"I don't care. We're no closer to rescuing Cassie than we were when we started."
"But I think we are," she replies, holding up a finger to silence me when I start to argue, her other hand moving to Robert's shoulder. "I think that this Anat, whatever she is, has become unstable. Mentally troubled. Last night is just more proof of that. Did you ever see Eunice blow her cool like the Cassie version has done repeatedly?"
Robert raises his head and nods. "You may have something there. It's been years since I've had to call in favors to keep coven activities hushed up, but now? We've had two incidents in which victims have been killed by magical influence within the past two weeks. Not that I think Eunice never had victims. As we got older, I became increasingly sure she did. I just think she cared whether or not they were found and planned her activities accordingly."
"Exactly!" Gillian interjects. "She's suddenly using an extreme amount of magic and leaving a mess in its wake."
I shrug. "Fine. Maybe she's crazy. I don't know. But I'm tired of running. I'm tired of being scared. I'm tired of being without Cassie. I feel like I'm Eunice's prisoner again, and I'm not going to hide any more. She's imprisoned me long enough. So, after we finish breakfast, we're not leaving this table until we have a plan of attack. Goddess help us, we can't wait for the body count to keep rising."
Gillian's fork clatters to the table. "That's it! Do you remember what Aurelie told me? That only a goddess can defeat a goddess? I get it now. That's it! That's the plan!"
***
After Gilly fleshes out her idea, I volunteer for the leading role. No one else should have to risk themselves the way someone is going to have to do. But what I get from her in response is headshaking and naysaying.
"Tom, don't be ridiculous. Of course you can't draw down the Goddess into your body. A goddess is feminine essence. And you, dear one, are as far from feminine as a creature can get." Gillian's head shakes now like one of those bobble-head dolls as she emphasizes her point.
Nat snorts, and I feel her eyes traveling over me inch by inch. "I'll second that, dear."
Gilly rolls her eyes at Nat then turns back to me. "It's just that it has to work exactly as we plan it, and I'm the only possible candidate. Nat has been openly denying the existence of the Goddess for years, so the Goddess isn't going to be receptive to her. I, on the other hand—I've been loyal. I always knew she was out there, lending me a hand when I truly needed and deserved it."
"But you're going to be asking a Goddess, the same thing that Anat claims to be, to take over your body." I hold the book with the slavering demon-goddess woodcut Robert had collected from the library toward her over the table. I shove the image of the contorted creature with breasts and horns and fur and long, sharp teeth right up in her face. "That's what you're inviting in."
"Don't be ridiculous, Tom. I've participated in dozens of drawing ceremonies in my lifetime, and in each of them, I could feel the essence of the goddess within me. Her power was warm, loving, and motherly. She wouldn't hurt me. If she could take me against my will, why hasn't she ever taken me before now? No, it's settled. The new moon is in two days. We'll do the drawing ceremony then. Natalie and I have the plan nailed down, and with the goddess's help, I'm sure we'll succeed."
I turn to Robert, who has been silent for all of the arguments over the past hour. "What about you?"
"After what she did to Kevin and Winifred? The plan may not be my style, and I certainly worry about putting Gillian at risk, but this time, I'm all in."
Cat bats at a hair tie he finds floating around in the bottom of Gillian's gigantic hippie purse. He's happier now about the bumpy ride on her hip with something to occupy him. I can't say I'm thrilled with the travel arrangements, but until there's something going on out there that I need to pay attention to, a hair tie gets my focus. I mean, what adult male wants to deal with the fact that for huge periods of his life, people can stick him in a purse and carry him around like a snotty hanky? I could murder myself a hair tie right about now.
It fights back about as well as a non-living object can do by getting stuck on a claw and stretching, then snapping when it lets go. It's fun, if I don't think about it too much. If I could just stretch it out a little longer without it springing back…
Wait, she's talking. My ears perk up. Time to make this humiliating handbag experience worthwhile.
"It's been so long since I've seen you, Maureen. I thought I'd stop by and find out how you're getting along." She reaches into the bag and grabs onto and lifts out a bottle of red wine that's been sharing my space as she continues. "Anything to report on the grandmother front? I've got just the right thing to celebrate, if so, or to commiserate if the news isn't good."
"Yes, come on in. Oh, do I have something to celebrate!" I peek out over the top of the bag as Maureen leads us to an overstuffed couch and then continues on through the dining room where she stops at a dark wood sideboard. "I'll just get us some glasses, shall I?"
When she returns with two glasses and a corkscrew, I pull my head back in and listen to the sound of the cork being yanked from the bottle. It sounds like it comes out easily, although it was a much more difficult job the first time Gillian uncorked it. But Maureen would have no idea about the extra ingredient. Apparently, she can pour the stuff down but can't tell the difference between Dom Perignon and Ripple. Maureen continues on happily about her daughter's impending motherhood. I sneak my head up and risk a peek out again.
"Triplets! Do you believe it? Must have happened months ago. Although I'm surprised she didn't mention it." Her happy mask slips off for just a second, and a worried face shows beneath. Then her smile returns. "It's so exciting!"
As I duck back down into the depths of Gilly's purse, I'm surprised it's not an entire litter. Too much of a coincidence for me. And the way Maureen's face changed for just that moment? She knows it, too.
Maureen's happiness as she discusses her grandchildren-to-be fades over the next ten minutes. As her words slur more and more, she yawns, moving her hand to her mouth languidly and then apologizes. "How rude of me. I can't imagine why I'm so tired. It must be the excitement. I've been ecstatic since she told me yesterday evening. It's obviously wearing me to a frazzle."
Gillian stands up, and I swing wildly back and forth for a moment in the bag. "That's all right, dear. I need to be getting on anyway. Have another glass of wine. Relax." Gillian leans in to her as she passes and gives her a quick hug around the shoulders. "You're going to be a grandmother—you've earned it."
Gillian closes the door behind her to the sounds of Maureen's snores.
"You know, Tom, I feel wrong about that." But I can hear the smirk in her voice. She hustles down the street to meet up with Nat.
***
I stick my head out for the breeze while Gillian walks to the end of the street where Natalie sits in the driver's seat of her old Dodge, music turned on loud to an oldies station. She bops along to the beat and turns with a huge grin when Gillian pulls open the driver's side door and slides in, nearly knocking me back into the bottom of the purse as she readjusts. I scramble out as quickly as possible and head to the back seat.
"That was fun, wasn't it? I haven't had this much fun in years!" Nat throws her head back, practicing a witchy cackle. "We should have a demon infestation more often."
Gillian laughs wit
h her. "Yes, it was. Despite a little guilt, it was fun. Maureen's eyes locked on that bottle of red the second I pulled it out of my bag. If I'd gone there to poison her, she'd be turning blue right now instead of snoring to wake the dead." She wipes away a happy tear with the back of her hand.
"Oh no, it couldn't have been easier than Zelda and chocolate. I thought she'd gnaw my arm off trying to get to them! We certainly do know our neighbors, don't we? I suppose we'll have to draw straws for Dora?"
"No, I say together. Why should only one of us have all the fun?"
Natalie pulls the Dodge into Dora's driveway. Gilly offers me the open mouth of her purse, but I flick my tail and give her slitty eyes from my comfortable spot on the backseat. There's nothing I'm going to learn at Dora's. Maybe if I was a were-poodle, I'd get into riding around in someone's purse, but nah. It's not for this cat. Way too confining. I'll sit this one out.
Fifteen minutes later, they hurry out, arm in arm, giggling like schoolgirls, and jump back into their respective seats.
Gilly tells her co-conspirator, "This would be awful if we actually meant to harm them, but since it's for a good cause, I guess it's okay to enjoy it. But, oh, I'd feel bad if this wasn't to keep them out of Anat's reach tonight."
Nat pulls the rearview her direction and touches up her bright red lipstick before putting it back. "You're such a goody two shoes. Lighten up. We'll be dead soon enough. Plenty of time to be boring then. Besides, you know as well as I do that this will protect them as much as it helps us—don't forget what Anat did to them the last time she enthralled them." She starts the car up and looks behind before she pulls out.