XXXIX: Lovers

The soft hum of the car’s engine vibrated through the gear stick as he shifted it up into fourth and brought the BMW around the corner and into the residential zone. The man in the car beside him glanced at him.

“You sure this is the right place?”

“It has to be,” the driver drawled.

“It doesn’t look like what it should look like.”

“Nothing looks like what it should look like, Achilles, that’s why it’s reality.”

“Oh so we’re reverting to old talk are we? Fine! I’m going to go out ‘n knock on the door.”

“You do that, if you get shot, at least I’ll know it was for a good cause.”

Before Achilles could open the door however, the front door opened. The tall woman in red who stepped out was unmistakable.

“I told you this was the right place.”

“Stop dawdling, this child is starting to get on my nerves!”

“You heard the lady,” Achilles muttered and lifted his duffle-bag from the backseat.

Moments later the two of them were sitting on the sofa, facing a fascinated little girl and her comatose Cat-Goddess. The girl stared at them with eyes wide as moons.

“Amy, stop staring, these are Hector and Achilles,” Medea commanded, coming into the room in a cloud of smoke, “now you two boys… tell me how you plan to protect this girl while I attempt the impossible and move Elysium and Reveille to bring Morpheus out of the clutches – ”

Achilles waved a hand dismissively.

“We are the best, my witchy lady,” he told her dismissively.

“Of all the warlords Zeus had to allow down here, it had to be you two,” Medea muttered in disgust, “and you’re lovers too. Irony amuses me.”

Hector laughed and Achilles winked at her.

“Saw it coming?”

XXXVIII: Curiosity

Amy frowned at Bast, petting her frantically while she tried to drip blood into the cat’s mouth with Medea’s impatient aid.

“Are you sure this is going to help, Miss Medea?”

“You are a Dreamer, the blood and flesh of a Dreamer are like…glue, they strengthen the Deity,” the woman explained, and not for the first time.

Amy pursed her lips. It wasn’t that she was trying to be difficult, but it was all so very confusing. Bast had explained the ‘Dreamer’ thing to her before, but it had never been all that clear. Alyxa was the real Dreamer, she knew what it meant, her father had been a Dreamer before her, and her Grandmother. Amy knew because Alyxa had told her; Amy didn’t know anything about what it meant to be a Dreamer.

“So why am I in danger?” she asked.

“Because you are,” Miss Medea snapped, and Amy ducked her head, momentarily scared into silence.

For a moment neither said anything, Amy out of silent terror and Medea for whatever reasons drove her to make such decisions. After several minutes in which each tick the clock in the kitchen made seemed to set the entire house into vibrations, however, Amy could not leave it any longer.

“Are you going to protect me?” she wanted to know, her voice as small as she could make it.

Medea’s eyes flickered for a moment.

“Yes.”

“But….” Amy took a breath and decided to just let loose and ask all the questions at once, “what about rescuing the others? Aren’t you going to do that too? How can you keep me safe and save the others? I’m sure you’re a very smart lady, Miss Medea, but are you really that powerful?”

Again the ominous flicker of the eyes.

“I will have help.”

XXXVII: Rattled

-Ares?- Medea sent the thought racing out, like an arrow, -Ares! Burn your Dice and your Game, pay attention!-

There was a thunder strike in the otherwise clear evening sky.

-Don’t rattle the heavens with Zeus’ thunder, Ares, this is important!-

The amulet hummed against her throat for a moment.

-Oh fine, spoil my fun, witch, what was it you wanted?-

-It’s about Bast. The Dreamer child says the Cat-Goddess is not in her corporeal shape.-

There was a moment of silence, followed by another stream of curses. The amulet grew warm and then burned softly, Medea hissed for Ares to tone it down.

-Can you verify what the Dreamer child said?-

-She’s the Dreamer, not I,- Medea muttered darkly.

Another thunder clap.

-Ares, I – -

-Yes, I know, enough with the thunder. This really pisses me off. To say the least. If she’s not there, then she’s there, which means the Prince has another Dreamer. This is precisely what I wanted to avoid!- Ares growled.

Medea blew out a swirl of smoke, using a finger to manipulate its shape, working it into the shape of a throne.

-Do you think we should contact the Arcs? This is more their department than it is ours, I don’t want to have them asking questions later,- she asked.

-Leave them for the moment, the Arcs are scattered miserably since the Prince slew the Messiah’s last Incarnate,- Ares replied sourly, -I’ve sent the other two to your address already. They should be there in a day or two.-

-And if the Prince comes looking?-

-Do you honestly believe that he is going to leave his fortress while he’s got another caged Goddess? Come now, Medea, stay with the youngling and please try to remember your maternal instinct a little, eh?-

The connection ended.

XXXVI: Comatose

“Is she dead?” Amy whispered.

It had taken only one line and one look to chase off the men that had stood on the porch, and all Medea had had to do was show Amy Bast’s comatose body. They were seated on the sofa, Bast on the seat between them.

“Can you not tell?” Medea asked her, taking Amy’s hand and pressing it gently to the Cat-Goddess’ flank.

Amy pursed her lips and furrowed her brow as deep as she could manage. For a moment there was nothing, and then Amy yanked her hand back.

“What is it, child?”

“She’s not there,” Amy whispered, “it’s all empty inside.”

Medea’s eyes narrowed. This was not something she had expected. Bast was not bound to Zeus’ Ban, the law set down after Troy, or even hampered by the Rift; with her followers, she could go where she wanted. If Bast was not in her physical form there was only one place she could be, and it was that very place that Medea had spent her many centuries avoiding.

“Miss Medea, where is she?”


“I’m not sure,” the Witch lied, an easy thing, especially to the child.

She made to light her cigarette, glanced at her companion and got to her feet.

“I’m going to go smoke and think on this, girl, stay here, maybe feed her a little blood.”

“Blood?”

Amy pulled a face.

“Yes, blood. You are a Dreamer, it might help her,” Medea said, slipping the cigarette into the filter and tapping her lighter impatiently.

“Oh.”

“Don’t go crazy though, child, just a prick to your finger. I can do it for you if you like, after I have had time to think….and smoke.”

“Smoking is bad for you,” Amy said softly, a little worried.

“So they keep telling me.”

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.”