XXVIII: Blunders

“You shouldn’t have drunk so much,” Alyxa murmured, letting her arm fall back onto the bedspread.

“I am sorry.”

He wasn’t of course, the concept of actual regret was still alien to him, but it mattered that he had used the words. Words were after all very important. Weren’t they? Her mind was drowsy. It was because of his fingers, he was stroking her forehead, soothing away the images of his long absence.

“Did it work?” she asked, “did you get anything from them?”

“I am not sure, but then one never is with the Olders.”

Bast leapt up onto the bed as Morpheus spoke and patted Alyxa’s cheek with a paw.

“They’ve convinced Zeus to put his agents on it,” the Cat-Goddess told her.

“Agents?”

“Four Youngers,” Morpheus said, “who stayed in this Realm after Troy.”

“Troy? You mean all that Homer stuff really happened?”

It was all so confusing. Like a Dream, but twisting in the telling, as though something were reshaping the truth around her before she had a chance to truly see it.

“‘That Homer stuff’ as you so prettily describe it, kitten,” Bast explained, “is the original blunder that started the whole separation of worlds. I mean, yes, faith failed so the Olders failed, but Troy is where the big mess all started. Zeus left behind some people. Four, one God, and three Heroes. They’ve been given the task to stop your Coven from bridging the Rift any more than they already have.”

“Can the Rift be fixed?”

“In time, perhaps,” Morpheus said, “for now, do not worry about the means or the measure of its rescue. Rest yourself. As you said, I took too much from you.”

She rolled her eyes at him, or tried to, she was so tired.

“Sleep, my weary one.”

XXVII: Waiting

SHORT BREAD COOKIES


1 c. butter
1/2 c. brown sugar
2 c. flour
1/4 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. salt


Cream sugar and butter together. Mix dry ingredients together and add to butter-sugar mixture. Roll to 1/2 inch thickness. Cut with cookie cutter. Bake for 15 to 20 minutes at 350C°.

Alyxa read the instructions again. The words were not staying with her. Perhaps she should have stuck with the making of fetches as tonight’s entertainment. Sighing, she looked at Amy, sitting on the counter top. Three nights it had been now, the waiting, without a sign or a Dream.

“Maybe they’ll be home tonight,” the little girl said hopefully.

“In time for cookies?” Alyxa queried, the sardonic edge in her voice lost on the child.

She measured out the right amount of butter on the scale in front of her, placed it on a saucer and slipped it into the microwave.

“Can I push the buttons?” Amy asked.

“10 seconds.”

Dutifully, Amy pressed set the time and watched as the microwave blurred into brief action. Alyxa turned to the flour. The world seemed to blur for a moment. The bag tipped over, spilling brilliantly white.

“Alyxa?” Amy asked, pushing the stop button as the microwave beeped at them.

“It’s nothing. Can you get the sugar from the pa- ” she caught sight then, of Morpheus’ unmistakable shape kneeling in the garden.

She forgot all about the cookies and rushed out.

“Morpheus!”

His blue hair was struggling to fade into a more acceptable black, the emerald eyes burned. His skin, marble pale was now also cold. He blinked at her slowly, as though realizing where he was.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

He pushed her hair from her neck n answer, and she felt him break the skin. He drank.

XXVI: Empress

The singing was soft, barely audible, soft and rhythmic, slightly off-key as though a child were humming along with a music box. There two people in the room; one a tall woman, dark curling hair falling around her shoulders, the other was a man, cowering. The magics in the room were so heavy that the air was like syrup with it. It weighed on the man’s shoulders like anvils draped over his shoulders; she wore it like a mantle. The singing was hers, timed to the strings she held stretched between her hands. Red, white, then black flashed between her fingers, given a life of its own as she wove it to her will.

Suddenly, she halted, smiling over the coils at her guest.

“Are you alright there, sweet?”

Her voice was full, like her figure, wrapped in the crimson silks.

“Cat got your tongue perhaps? This is what you wanted, sweet.”

The man blinked several times.

“I-I…” he swallowed nervously.

“Yes, sweet?”

“I-I…I’m fine!”

“Are you sure? You don’t look so good, my sweet. Are you sure you want me to break up that marriage just so you can have your dear, dear Julia?”

Something primal flashed over his face.

“Yes! I want her back! Give her back to me!”

Her smile was brilliant, a sunset in full splendor.

“Of course, all I need is your right hand.”

Without thinking, blinded with the lust that drove all these primitive males to her, he slipped it into the offered gap between the strings. She pulled. He screamed as his hand fell to the floor between them.

“Bitch!”

“I told you my price. It’s not my fault you didn’t listen. Go home, your Julia is waiting.”

He swore at her again, but she was no longer listening. Someone was calling her.

XXV: Straying

“No!” Bast snarls, “no it’s not enough. You do not understand.”

“I find your tone disrespectful, Cat-Goddess,” Isis murmurs.

“You’ve all been locked behind the Rift for so long you’ve forgotten how stubborn humans can be,” Bast continues, shooting a glare at Odin next, “and you! Do you honestly think your precious son will sit idly in his little cage while there is any chance that he might once again walk free? You’ve forgotten the heady taste of reality, you think he has?”

Frigga and Odin share a long look.

“Perhaps the cat has a point,” Frigga put out.

“Of course I do!”

The Olders ignored her.

“What do you propose to do, my Lady,” Odin asks her.

“Zeus?”

“What can I do for you, Frigga?” Zeus drawls, earning an elbow to the side from Hera.

“Which of your children are in the World?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Frigga.”

“We all know that after your debacle at Troy you sent some of your Younglings into the world, in human form, living, dying, being reborn,” the Norse Queen replies coolly, “tell us how many and who.”

Zeus hesitated.

“Come now, brother, don’t be shy,” Tammuz tells him.

“It isn’t as if this was some great secret, Zeus,” Bast mutters darkly, “we all new about it. You have your games, and we have ours. So just answer the goddess already.”

“Four,” Zeus said reluctantly.

“Only four?”

“Yes. Anymore and the balance would have been upset,” Hera retorts, defending her mate.

“Surely there is one amongst those Youngers that can put an end to these procedures,” Frigga suggests, a sly catch in her voice.

Morpheus’ frown deepens. She knew more of these matters than the others; apparently Zeus had been straying again. Unsurprising.

“Give us the names, Zeus.”

“As you wish.”