XXXV: Thoughtless

Amy rubbed her eyes, she was tired, and hungry. No one was home, which meant no one was there to materialize – or make – food. She’d walked into the kitchen and found some of the cookies Alyxa had made for them a few days before and managed not to spill all the milk in her attempt to pour it into a glass. Where did they go? And why had no one thought for a moment ‘wait, someone needs to stay here with Amy’. It was very – what was the word that her Daddy had used? - thoughtless. Yes. Thoughtless. She munched on a cookie, ignoring the fact that there was a trail of crumbs that tumbled in her wake. Maybe she would watch some television in her room. A few days ago a television had appeared on a brand new cabinet in a corner of her room, a corner that had not been there the day before. Amy took these things for granted, however, and did not let it bother her. There was a knock on the door and Amy rushed towards it, then slowed, remembering the things she had been told over the years, even with the Bad Lady.

“Who is it?” she called tentatively, hoping she sounded less excited than she was.

“Amy Dawson?” a man asked her.

Amy frowned. Her seven-year-old mind was trying very hard to remember everything she should and shouldn’t do.

“Amy? Is the woman who took you at home?”

“I’m not supposed to talk to strangers,” Amy told the man on the other side.

The doorknob rattled for a moment.

“I just want to talk.”

“Who are you?”

“Amy, your parents are dead, you’re alone,” he sounded rushed.

“Then it is lucky that I am here, is it not, sweet?” a woman’s voice asked.

XXXIV: Rippling

Medea came storming out of the living room, only to find that she was strangely alone in the entire house. She could feel the residue of strong magics lingering around the front porch, but that was all. She knew, of course, what had happened, the Darjeeling girl had chosen to show off and in doing so had used magics not intended for an unDreaming witch. Who knew what kind of ripples that had torn through fabrics? Medea cursed quietly under her breath and touched her fingers to her necklace.

-Sir,- she cast the thought outwards.

-What?-

His waspish tone did not faze her as she sent him mental images of what she was feeling and seeing. The curses she had uttered were nothing to what poured over the link between them, a veritable solid flow of words in languages long dead.

-How would you like me to proceed, sir?-

For a moment there was a silence, and then…

-You can’t do anything for them without a Dreamer. There is a child, in Morpheus’ Dreamer’s custody. Find her. Perhaps she can do what we can’t. I will make contact with the other two and send them to you. If the Prince gets word of this the child will not be safe.-

-Then she will not be safe, this will travel further, I can feel the residue flowing as I sp- wait. Bast is here.-

The Cat-Goddess was lying in the corner, comatose and silent. Medea bent and lifted her, she was limp but breathing.

-Is she alive, Medea?-

-Yes, sir, but in a faint.-

-Get her to the child, Bast is not like the others, but a Dreamer’s presence can do nothing but help.-

Medea nodded and set her senses scanning, shooting out over the city.

“Where are you…Dreaming child?”

XXXIII: Powers

Alyxa got out of the car with Morpheus and Bast, ignoring the look that Morpheus shot her. He wanted her to stay put, she could feel it, but she could also feel the immense power inside Maye’s house and despite the terror at that immensity she wanted to be there. Bast hopped up onto a windowsill and hissed.

“She’s inside already. Kitten’s claws but she moves fast!”

“I will open – ” Morpheus started, but before he could open anything, Alyxa had simply hit the doorbell.

There was movement inside, quick footsteps, and Maye’s familiar voice, out of breath, exclaiming that she was on the way.

“Oh thank the stars,” Maye whispered when she saw Alyxa’s face, “there’s a wo – ”

“I know,” Alyxa said, “I told you there would be consequences if you didn’t stop.”

“I’m not going to stop! I do not deal well with threats!” Maye snapped.

Alyxa gawked at her.

“Don’t be an idiot, girl, Medea is older than the dirt, she gave meaning to the word ‘witch’ in ways Hecate never thought of!” Bast snarled, leaping past her into the living room.

“This is my house and I will not be threatened in it, not by anyone!”

“You are blinded, Maye Darjeeling, by pride, by lack of power,” Morpheus murmured.

“‘Lack of power’?!” Maye gaped, she turned her anger at Alyxa, “keep your pet God in line, Alyxa, I will not be spoken to like that!”

“It does not work that way, Maye Darjeeling, the more you speak the more you prove you know little of what you claim to,” Morpheus replied, reaching forwards, hand suddenly talon-like.

Maye shouted something that made Alyxa’s ears ring, and the world went dark, fading as though someone had dropped a large blanket over the sun. 

And then simply nothing.

XXXII: Fleeces

The tea Maye found herself serving was not something she believed she’d ever heard of, let alone had in the pantry, she didn’t want to dwell on how it got there. Medea was sitting in one of the armchairs, the TV was now switched off, and a bouquet of flowers was perched neatly in a vase on the coffee table. Maye set the tray of tea down and knelt to pour it, testing the strength; it was just as well that she knew how to serve tea.

“When you say you are ‘Medea’, am I to understand that you are the Medea? Of the Fleece tale?” Maye asked after they had both taken several sips of tea.

“If you like. I’m not really here to discuss me. You have to stop what you are doing.”

“And what exactly am I doing?” Maye asked.

“Did you know that the last time a Dreamerless Ritual was completed, the transition ripped every individual in the Coven to shreds. They’d managed to bring one of the Furies across, that was fun!”

Maye stared at her.

“The stories about you are true, aren’t they?” she demanded.

“Most of them.”

“I intend to go through with it, my family has worked for generations to bridge the worlds.”

Medea’s dark eyes flashed, somewhere in the house something smashed to the ground.

“The Rift exists for a reason, girl.”

“The Gods – ”

“Are not at your beck and call,” the older woman replied, “they’ve sent me to bring an end to this.”

Maye’s eyes narrowed.

“I am not afraid of you, this has been my dream since I was a child, and my parents’ dream before me. I will not stop.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Medea murmured, smoothing her ruby skirts over her legs, “actually... I’m not.”