The Sorceress

by Allison Hobbs

  Feeling an urgent need to get the goddess dressed and her pointy boobies properly covered, Jen unzipped a clothing bag.

  “Oh shit,” she muttered softly. It was the gown Catherine was planning to wear to the Inaugural Ball. The lady of the house would shit bricks if something happened to the gown.

  Reminding herself that this was a matter of life or death, Jen yanked the gown out of the bag, handling the delicate fabric roughly in her haste to accommodate Eris’s finicky taste. “What do you think?” She held the plain mauve chiffon gown up for inspection.

  Eris sneered at the chiffon dress.

  Sweating bullets, Jen unzipped six or seven airtight bags containing smooth, sleek, and flowing chenille, satin, silk, and chiffon ballroom finery. Eris turned up her nose at each offering and unceremoniously flung the dresses to the floor.

  Jen’s face lit when she remembered a costume that Catherine had planned to wear to a Halloween party tonight. That was before she been offered the nomination. Now off somewhere with the troops, Catherine had no need for the costume that was the perfect frock for this pesky witch.

  It wasn’t an Antebellum era gown; it was from the Victorian period. But what the heck. She displayed the gaudy costume.

  A flicker of a smile crossed Eris’s face.

  Great! While the goddess caressed the fabric, Jen investigated the path to her escape. There were no cumbersome items to jump over or negotiate around. The door was wide open and she had a clear path. It was time to make her move.

  “Stop daydreaming. Help me with this!” Eris broke into her thoughts.

  “Sure.” She shot a longing glance at the open door.

  On her knees, Jen held the skirt of the gown open, allowing Eris to step easily into the circle of soft fabric. Jen rose and pulled up the bodice, carefully zipping the back. “Beautiful,” she murmured, trying to infuse delight into her tone.

  Eris glared at Jen, her cold blue eyes seeming to inform Jen that she didn’t need her pathetic approval. Eris waltzed over to the floor length mirror and stared at her image.

  Then something freaky happened. Behind Eris’s reflection, there was an image of a child’s bedroom. A very elaborately decorated little girl’s room. Incongruous to the frilly décor was an old brown wooden box.

  Eris gasped. “My jewels!” she screamed.

  Quick as a flash, the scenery in the mirror disappeared. And something else started disappearing. Jen covered her mouth and gawked at Eris in shock.

  Eris’s fingers blurred and looked distorted. Jen rubbed her eyes, trying to sharpen her vision, which she was certain had begun to fail her. Then unbelievably, one by one, Eris’s fingers started evaporating right before Jen’s very eyes.

  Eris held up her fingerless hands and howled; the sound long and discordant like an annoying alarm.

  Heavy hooves could be heard stampeding down the hallway. Boozer! Jen wanted to cry. There’d be no escaping with that big oaf around.

  Boozer galloped into the wardrobe room, his ugly face contorted in confoundedness. “What’s wrong, goddess?”

  In silent response, Eris held up her arms. Her hands were gone, they’d completely disappeared. Jen had never seen such a frightful sight. She wanted to yell her head off, but she kept her wits about her.

  “Don’t worry, goddess, you’ll grow back another pair,” Boozer told Eris and then put an arm around her. While the monster was comforting Eris, Jen took creeping steps toward the door, acknowledging the sad fact that even if she made it out of the house unharmed, she doubted if her mental status would remain intact. She’d seen too many bizarre things in a short period of time to remain sane. But her survival instincts pushed her forward.

  Until Eris said, “Bite her for me, Boozer! Your teeth are stronger than mine.”

  Jen froze. “Wh-what? Bite who?”

  Eris looked at Jen with venomous eyes. “Stop sniveling. I have to feed.” She turned her gaze on Boozer. “Don’t be greedy. Just break the skin.”

  “No!” Jen shouted. She bolted from the room, arms propelling as she powered down the long hall. But she didn’t get far. Boozer grabbed her by the back of her collar; his claws deliberately digging into the flesh of her neck as he jerked her into his hairy grasp.

  “This should be done in private. Xavier has been an amused spectator, spying on me when he’s in a trance state, but I refuse to grant him an audience to my weakness while he’s fully awake. Take the governess to the cellar.”

  “No!” Jen kicked out her legs and swung her arms, fighting for release. But Boozer contained her easily, covered her mouth with his hand, and tightened his grip around her waist, cutting off her circulation and making it difficult for her to breathe.

  In the dreary cellar, the air was saturated with an awful odor that Jen couldn’t identify. Boozer uncovered her mouth.

  “Please! Please, don’t hurt me,” she choked out.

  Ignoring her plea, his features hardened and knotted, mutating further his hideous face. He made a roaring sound as he drew back his enormous hand and slammed it hard against her face.

  The sound of the slap echoed. Jen could feel the heat of pain emanating from her cheek into her tormentor’s calloused palm. The blast of heat must have compounded his desire to do more harm.

  Using clawed fingers, the beast mauled her, etching four red lines into her cheek.

  “Help me! Somebody, please help me!” she cried out, a shaky hand protectively covering the injured side of her face.

  Boozer growled a low and deadly warning. Fearful of what he’d do next, she trembled violently, teeth chattering as she struggled to quiet herself down. As she shuddered and whimpered helplessly, the creature peeled her hand away from her face.

  Her eyes went wild as he straightened out her arm and then pressed his hairy nostrils against her skin, inhaling her scent the way an animal sniffs its food.

  Eris made an impatient sound. Jen glanced at her, using saddened eyes to beg for compassion. With her mouth tight, Eris glared down at Jen with cold-hearted contempt. Jen dropped her gaze in dismay.

  “Hurry.” Eris spat. “Bite her before I begin losing my feet as well as my hands.”

  Before Jen could emit another plea, Boozer attacked. He bit into her arm with such ferocity, Jen swooned. Her legs gave out and her body sagged to the floor as unbearable pain exploded through her.

  Boozer didn’t try to hold her upright. Crouching, he joined her on the floor, his teeth still attached to her flesh as he pulled her limp body closer.

  The agonizing sensation of teeth embedded in her flesh left her woozy, but unfortunately, she remained conscious. Adding to her suffering, the monster sank his teeth even deeper and began sucking out blood.

  Jen couldn’t comprehend if the vicious assault had rendered her crippled or if the shock of it all had overwhelmed her, but as much as she’d chosen to fight for her life, she was powerless to keep her torso upright. She slumped over, her head drooping feebly on Boozer’s shoulder as the cad slurped blood from the gash he’d made into her arm.

  “Enough!” Eris shouted. “She’s mine!”

  With the snarling resentment of a wild animal being forced to relinquish the prey, Boozer begrudgingly raised Jen’s wounded arm up to Eris’s waiting lips.

  Wanting to know what was going on, Jen hazarded an upward glance and instantly regretted her curiosity.

  Wearing the ball gown, Eris looked a frightful, macabre mess as she licked her lips and then hungrily latched onto Jen’s arm. Her mouth sealed around the open wound as she suctioned out streams of blood.

  Shouting strident pleas for mercy, Jen jerked and twisted to no avail. Her weakened body was held inside Boozer’s vise-like grip.

  Eris stopped sucking momentarily and observed the area at her wrists where hands should have been. Lips pursed in dissatisfaction, she resumed feeding. Slowly now and despite Jen’s shrieks for her to please stop, Eris sucked unhurriedly—daintily as if she were taking sweet sips from a glass of wine.


  Finally, Jen became quiet, her screams replaced by quiet murmurs as a peaceful darkness fell upon her with the gentleness of soft blanket, escorting her to merciful oblivion.

  Oblivion was replaced with dreams. Very pleasant dreams. In one happy scenario, she played with the old family dog. In the dream state, Pogo was alive and vibrant. He didn’t seem cranky or sickly.

  Running and leaping, Pogo chased a Frisbee and actually caught it, exhibiting the clear sightedness and vigor of a frisky puppy. In another dream, she sat in a classroom paying rapt attention to the professor’s lecture. Then she raised her hand, waving enthusiastically. With a twinkle of delight in his eyes, the professor nodded, encouraging Jen to enlighten the class with her vast knowledge. In her dream world, she didn’t need to cheat her way through the semester.

  The distant ringing of a telephone dragged her from sweet peace. She opened her eyes to pitch-black darkness. And pain. Everything hurt—especially her arm. Why?

  Gingerly, she stroked the area that throbbed. With a squeaky yelp, she retracted her hand. What in the name of God? Against her will and her better judgment, her fingers returned to the injury. At the touch of the bloody open wound, horrific memories flooded her mind.

  At the same time, there was a creak. Her heart skipped several beats. Then footsteps were heard overhead. She tried to orient herself to the surroundings, but the distinctive sound of Ethan’s wheezing sent her scooting backward, blindly trying to find a place to hide. On her knees, she scampered beneath a wooden structure and prayed that she wouldn’t be detected.

  A door opened, followed by the click of a switch. Bathed in light, Jen squinted and shielded her eyes. She trembled with dread as footsteps descended.

  “Come from under that table, nanny,” Ethan said, announcing his agitation with increased wheezing.

  Holding on to the leg of the table, Jen shook her head; refusing to leave her place of refuge.

  “My father is on the telephone. He wants to speak with you. On your feet now—get up, nanny!”

  “Please don’t make me face those monsters again. Look what they did to me.” She held out her arm.

  Ethan snorted. “That’s nothing.” He made a dismissive, tsking sound.

  “Please.”

  He shrugged. “Can’t help you. Eris needs your blood.”

  “Why?”

  “Female trouble,” he said sarcastically. “I don’t know. She’s extremely vain. Has something to do with the appearance of her hands and her feet.”

  Jen recalled the horror of witnessing Eris’s vanishing hands and resisted the urge to sprint up the stairs, burst through the front door like a cartoon character, leaving behind a cut-out impression of her body as a testament of her absolute fear.

  “That Boozer is a wacko, a real basket case.” The boy shook his head. “Did you know he was a serial killer in his previous life…and a rapist?”

  Jen shook her head mournfully while frantically considering escape options.

  “In case you haven’t noticed, he’s hung like a horse. If that fiend has his way, he’ll skewer you.”

  Jen uttered a sound of sharp anxiety.

  “I told him you were saving yourself for marriage…” Ethan gave a wheezing chuckle. Jen groaned. Ethan’s sense of humor was cruel and obnoxious. “You’re safe from the fiend for now,” he went on. “But if you don’t get yourself up those stairs right this minute, I’m turning you over to Boozer so he can satisfy his hunger.”

  “No!” She held up her hand; the motion sent pulses of pain up and down her arm. Wincing, she lowered her arm, and then circled a comforting finger around the open wound.

  “Come upstairs and speak to my father,” he said impatiently. “I can’t stay down in this smelly cellar much longer. The odor is stifling; it’s making me wheeze.” He immediately began the heavy wheezing that usually preceded an episode. “If I become incapacitated,” he rasped. “I can’t promise that I’ll have the strength to protect you.”

  Using her good arm, Jen pushed herself up and rose to her feet. Sadly, she trailed the young agent of the devil and slowly ascended the cellar stairs.

  “Tell my father that Eris has come with high recommendations from the agency. Tell him she has lots of experience with autistic children.”

  At the top of the stairs, Eris stood. Miraculously, her feet and hands were attached. Crusted blood—Jen’s blood—trimmed the square neckline of Catherine’s Halloween costume. Eris looked Bride of Frankenstein frightful; except for her hair. It wasn’t sticking out like she’d been electrocuted.

  Amazingly, Eris’s hair looked fantastic with the heavy coils fashioned into a perfect upsweep. Her body was perfection— toned, slender, and strong. Her mean expression couldn’t hide the beauty that she possessed. But the wicked woman’s physical attributes were overshadowed by the pure evil that she emanated.

  “I’ve spoken to your employer—introduced myself. He seems satisfied but requested to speak with you.” She glided over to nearby phone in the dining area. “Tell him that I’m making remarkable progress with Xavier…I mean, Ethan.” Eris’s expression soured when she spoke the demon child’s given name. “Don’t add any unnecessary details. Keep the chitchat to a minimum.”

  “Hi, Senator Provost.” Jen sounded distressed and hoped to God he could hear her silent plea for help.

  “How’s it going, Jen?” he said brightly, a stark contrast to his dark mood earlier. “Everything going okay?” He sounded bubbly and had paid no attention to Jen’s anguished tone. “The new nanny sounds like a real gem. Lucky for us, huh?”

  “Uh…yeah,” she said, a bit more upbeat after Eris shot her a hateful glare. Then she added, “I guess…” attempting to infuse some doubt in the senator’s mind.

  “Good…good. Glad things are working out. She told me about her success with autistic children.”

  “Oh, she told you about the work she does?” Jen said, speaking slowly… softly… her tone filled with warning, hoping that the senator would read between the lines… hear her inner scream.

  “She’s a very impressive woman.”

  Ohmigod! Don’t you hear the terror in my voice? She wanted to shake her fist and shout, but with two pairs of evil eyes on her, Jen could not express her frustration. All she could do was breathe out a heavy sigh of disappointment.

  Proving to not have a shred of clairvoyance or even paternal instincts, the senator continued. “Listen, they’ve amped up Catherine’s schedule. She’s going to be making additional campaign stops. Her agenda is really brutal…”

  “Yeah, all that campaigning sounds brutal.” She darted an eye at her arm and flinched. It took every ounce of restraint not to shout, You wanna see brutal? I’ll show you brutal, pal! But she said instead, “When will you be back?”

  “That’s the thing… I’m not sure. The press has noted my absence. With the election so close…”

  “Ethan needs—”

  Eris waved her hand and Boozer materialized, tramping into the room with his menacing eyes focused on Jen.

  “Okay, well, I’ll handle things here,” Jen blurted, her voice suddenly pleasant.

  “Oh, make sure the nanny agency faxes over the privacy forms that Eris signed. Catherine doesn’t want her staff involved in any aspect of Ethan’s care. It’s a private matter.”

  “Maybe you or Ms. Provost should call them; I doubt if the agency I work for would be willing to trust me with any private documents.” The new nanny from hell certainly hadn’t come through the agency and perhaps a call from the senator or Ms. Provost, requesting paperwork, would alert them that something was amiss.

  “You’re right. I’ll call the agency and I’ll check in with you later tonight.”

  “Good. Okay.” She hung up with confidence that the calvary would be arriving soon.

  Ethan clapped his little hands, sarcastically applauding her performance. “Very convincing, but my opinion doesn’t matter. Did you persuade my father to stay where he is?”

 
; “Yes.”

  Ethan nodded. “When is he returning?”

  “I’m not sure. He didn’t say.”

  “She can’t be trusted,” Eris interrupted. She pointed a wellformed accusing finger at Jen. “The next time your employer makes contact, be sure that I speak with him before you disconnect.”

  “Okay.” She cradled her injured arm. Her eyes roved worriedly over the mangled flesh.

  Ethan wrinkled his nose. “That wound looks pretty nasty. It should be treated before it becomes infected.”

  Unconcerned, Eris shrugged.

  “Didn’t you purport to have healing skills in that slave life of yours?”

  “That’s what I told those fools on the plantation. But I know nothing about healing humans nor do I care about their injuries. My one concern is keeping this mortal body intact.” She stared at her hands, checking to make sure they were undamaged.

  “She’s no good to you if her blood is tainted.”

  “What should I do?”

  “You’re going to have to close that wound.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know. We can look up the instructions for administering sutures on the internet. If I’m correct, we may need to acquire the intestines of a cat, which we don’t have. Can Boozer be trusted to make a quick run outdoors to find us a stray?”

  “He’s naked. And he looks too peculiar to run around chasing stray cats in the light of day.”

  “Good point,” Ethan agreed and began stroking his chin in thought.

  No, no, no! Jen was horrified. Instinct told her to get herself to the closest hospital before she ended up with gangrene, but these cads were without mercy and completely unreasonable. She couldn’t rely on them to get her proper medical care. Thinking it best to treat the bite wound herself and before Ethan started working on her poor arm with a needle and a string of cat guts, she blurted, “Uh…it’s only a surface wound. It doesn’t need stitches.” She shook her head emphatically. “Some peroxide and a sturdy bandage and I’ll be fine.”