Snakes...why'd it have to be snakes?
38
finished.
“Aargh make it go away!!”
Fine.
39
Night had fallen, and the seas around Aiaia were quiet. In the jungle, the mighty jungle, the goat slept and the boar watched with dull expressionless eyes. There is no lion. The fire roared, and Circe took a deep breath.
“It is time.”
---
The
HMS Impossible was making good speed, in the darkest of night. Anney had tried to go to sleep, but found herself restless. Instead she sat at the prow of the ship, gazing at the stars.
“Next stop; Charleston. There’s a map that I buried, and...”
She looked around at the uncaring night, and frowned.
“Never mind.”
---
The flames licked the air.
“He won’t come without an offering,” Anton said nervously, holding the parrot Marissa tightly in his hand, fighting the temptation to crush her to death. He glanced at the goat, and then at the boar. “Which one shall serve as our sacrifice?”
Circe scowled. “Neither. They are to serve as payment for services rendered, and must not be harmed.”
“Payment?” Anton said, scrunching his face. “Soon you’ll have the whole world at your command! I’m sure there are other ways of settling any debts, ones that don’t involve livestock,” he added, with a smirk.
“Maybe, but it pays to be cautious. I wouldn’t want my benefactor getting the wrong idea, and getting the impression that I don’t intend to pay. That could have some unpleasant consequences. And,” she said insistently, “they are not just livestock! Right now, these are the two most important animals in the entire universe. And they’re all mine!”
Anton shrugged. “Whatever. We still need an offering. The leash might have been loosened by that fool Legba, but Simbi Makaya still needs blood.”
Circe smiled. “Of course, and I have just the thing.”
She strode off in the direction of the ruin, and a couple of moments later emerged holding a chicken. Its feathers were entirely white, and it was so docile that it barely even seemed notice it was being carried. There was certainly no struggle.
“Is that...?”
Circe nodded. “Claus, the albino chicken." She held out the chicken in front of her, and gazed into it's upside down eyes. "Tonight, Claus, I am going to be your executioner!”
Anton crossed his arms. “Whatever happened to ‘I don’t harm my creatures’, then?”
“I don’t deal in absolutes,” Circe said, with a serene smile, before bursting into laughter. “At least, not yet. It’s time to begin the ceremony. Prepare the potion.”
---
“
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum...damn, I sure could do with some rum.” Anney glanced around the ship, and at the calm seas, and her shoulders sagged. “Meh, I’m going to sleep.”
She lay down on the hard surface and closed her eyes.
---
The chicken’s blood had been spilt and scattered on the fire, and the potion was ready. The fire spat snaking flames, and the night grew ever darker. Circe took the vial, and sniffed it, savouring the aroma.
“I love the smell of potion in the evening. Smells like...aniseed? Eww! And look, it's green! Seriously, what is with that?"
"Er, I don't know, my lady."
"Whatever. Pass the bird.”
Circe took the unresisting Marissa, and prised open her beak. It was awkward, but she was just about able to get the potion down the bird’s throat. Marissa squawked and hiccupped, and Circe released her. She flapped around ineffectually as the potion took hold, and then made a clumsy landing and let out a shriek of terror. The bird began to grow, a reverse of the transformation of earlier. The feathers receded and the wings stretched and became hairless arms. Marissa was human again, lying on the ground naked and helpless. Her terrified eyes flicked from Circe to Anton and to the fire.
“Oh Simbi Makaya, hear my plea!” Anton boomed. “Oh we implore you, come, come!” The fire sputtered, and the flames twisted themselves into the shape of a serpent. Anton stared directly into the fire, and the spirit in the flames entered his mind. He clutched his head, eyes closed, and let out a terrible scream. Circe clapped her hands and giggled. Eventually, Anton raised his head and when he opened his eyes his pupils were reptilian slits.
“I have come.” Anton’s voice was different, deeper and terrible; the voice of Simbi Makaya. He glanced down at Marissa, who was still huddled on the ground, as vulnerable and pathetic as a newborn baby, seemingly paralysed with a combination of fear and the effects of the potion.
“What must I do?”
“My sister needs a vessel,” Circe said excitedly, her eyes aflame. “My sister needs flesh and bone and blood, so she can be like me; so she can serve me. I command you, Simbi Makaya, destroy all trace of Marissa Yaroslavich, send her soul into the eternal darkness so that my sister may see the light...so she may have the gift of life!”
Simbi Makaya flicked out his tongue.
“It shall be done.”