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.
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