(3.2) Witches Of The Eternal Recurrence

“Does she go through some sort of magical problem once a week, or?”

“Once a week, Mindy?  Did this happen before?”

“Oh, yes.  Well, not this exact thing, but she came over for a formal dinner with her family - Mindy brought Dante, to.  Turned out Dante’s pop had put a curse on her.  Ben had to remove i-”

“He did what?!  Dante, you didn’t tell me this.’

“Tara, if I had to tell everyone every time my Dad did something almost comically evil, I’d be stuck in the same conversation for an eternity, even unto the second end of the Earth or so.”

“You never tell us any of us anything about it.”

“There’s a reason for that.  I don’t want to get loved ones involved and hurt.  I’m always afraid they’ll try to confront him.”

“There’s a reason for that.”

“Anyway...” Dante continues.  “I just got off the phone with Ben.  He’s on his way from the post office as soon as he can manage.  In the meantime he’s asked us not to touch the sarcophagus-”

“Mindy,” says Tara.

“What?”

“You’re trying to poke it, aren’t you.”

Mindy’s arm was outstretched.  One index finger was also outstretched, with one orange nail mere inches away from touching it.   “No?”

“Yes, you are.  Put it down.”

“Fine, geez.”

Anilin sits on the floor, cradling the unconscious Kitty’s noggin in her lap.  It’s been rough.  When she isn’t completely comatose and unmoving she spends a few minutes jabbering in tongues and hissing at Dante and Mindy, followed by spending a few minutes yowling and mewling at the ceiling before collapsing back into unconsciousness.   Presently she’s purring, which is a little disturbing even if it’s a slight improvement.

Rhoda sits behind Annie, combing the blonde girl’s hair in a reflection of Rhoda’s usual priorities towards her princess.

“Okay,” says Tara.  “Let’s all just...sit tight and wait for Ben.  Someone go and tell the police to keep patrolling, Eva should get back to her Librarian duties, Despina and Mindy should...Do...Whatever it is you do.”

Despina quietly shuffles cards in one corner of the room while Mindy juggles a tiny fireball.  Tara rolls her eyes.

“Super.  Keep up the good work.”

***

Kitty examines her...self?...in the hand mirror, having found what is either an extremely accurate Egyptian cosplay or actual Egyptian clothes in the reed baskets.   She looks...pretty good, she has to admit.  Probably better than she normally does.  Whoever owned this body previously spend way more time outside.  ...And wears way less underwear.  She’d also found a lovely pendant depicting a black and gold cat surrounded by four kittens, which she’d felt compelled to put on slowly because kittens.

Images have been flooding her mind, slowly but surely.  Memories, perhaps?  She sees statues of a cat headed goddess...children playing...a religion declining in popularity while still attracting plenty of visitors...ceremonies involving flashing people dear gods.

There’s a smell of smoke in the air, vague but present.   The images tell her this is abnormal.  High abnormal.  The cats have begun to bristle uncomfortably, some of them making hissing noises at nothing in particular.

She hears someone running towards her, a familiar - according to this other person’s memories, at least - clink of armor repeated over and over.

The person making this noise slides into the room, and she is suddenly face to face with a tall, handsome, heavily sunburnt white guy in the armor of the ancient Roman legion, which she is starting to suspect is at this moment far less ancient than she is accustomed to.

(“Thank God!”) exclaims the man in a language she isn’t sure why she understands.  (“You’re all right!”)

[What? Kitty tries to say, but she finds she’s no longer in control of the mouth.  (“Your God or mine?”) says the presently possessed Egyptian woman, in a snarky fashion.  (“I appreciate my big, humble centurion coming around so...Early, but...”)

The centurion suddenly wraps his arms around her body and kisses her fiercely.  Kitty is a little disturbed, not the least because she’s never kissed a man in her life up until now (though she has certainly thought about it a couple of times).  Images flood her mind again, and...Well.  This body has done some things regarding the centurion that the latter is slightly but not entirely ashamed of and the former is extremely proud of.

(“...I suppose my goddess shouldn’t be entirely upset if I delayed the festival five minutes for pleasure-”)

(“We have to leave, now.  Something terrible is happening.”)

The priestess and the centurion stare at each other quietly for a moment.

(“What sort of terrible?  War terrible, riot terrible, my religion terrible, your religion terrible...Awkward sex terrible?”)

(“I...I don’t know how to explain...”)

(“...Do you smell salt water and fish”)

(“Oh my God, they’ve reached us!  Get behind me!”)

The centurion spins around, drawing his gladius.  A sickening squelch is heard over and over as something approaches slowly...

It comes into view, illuminated by the sun through the windows.  It’s a terrible, wet, green...thing, towering over the priestess and centurion.  The head is bulbous and pulsing, a beard of tentacles hanging from it.  It appears to be almost entirely naked.  Long, sharp talons cradle a big, twisted, black spear.

It opens it’s maw, and makes a spit-filled gurgling roar

It advances on the centurion, ducking down into a threatening pose, spear ready to skewer him...

The army of cats hiss and cry out suddenly, charging the creature.  They leap onto the body, sinking their teeth and claws in, causing it to shriek and scream.  It flails about violently before falling over onto it’s back as it’s quickly devoured by a horde of pet cats.

The priestess and centurion look at each other.

(“Doesn’t seem that dangerous.”)

The centurion sighs.