Page 68 of The Tenth Muse

Okay, what else? I do see a god, Jarren, in his centaur form with two other centaurs and one unicorn. They’re in a lake, or pool I guess, and there are orange and white koi fish moving slowly around their legs. The unicorn has little red swim caps over his ears and the two centaurs have started braiding his hair since we came in. Two frog attendants stand at either side of the pool, one with towels and the other with a pitcher full of a black liquid and both dressed in red suits. They haven’t moved since Jarren started speaking.

Alright, well I can taste my saliva and I smell something sweet, maybe strawberries, what about feeling?

Ha!

Now’s not the time to be sarcastic. Okay, yes, I can feel my knotted stomach but what about outside feelings? The breeze, right. I feel sunshine on my face, though I can’t see a source. Oh! And there it is again. Every so often I can feel waves of power coming off of Jarren, it feels like how fire moves, claws reaching out to overtake but not burn.

“This is important to me. And considering that you have a responsibility to your constituents, that should make it important to you. I reserve the right to be seen in courttoday. It can’t wait.”

Okay, I know I wasn’t going to focus on sound but, damn, the fearless passion in Donella’s voice, like they’re not talking to an almighty god right now. They’re not backing down or taking no for an answer. Their drive for justice and using their status as a source of power is so magnetic. Oh! And there’s another thing to see, Donella’s white hair pulled into two french braids behind their horns. I did a pretty good job on those without a rattail comb or gel.

Okay, what else can I hear besides a steaming mad god?

“Fine, Donella,” Jarren snaps his fingers and the entire scene before us changes. We are standing in an empty courtroom, the judge’s podium before us and rows of chairs on either side in a semi-circle shape. The floor is tiled beautifully and so clean I can see my reflection in it. I hope I don’t faint on it.

“I don’t see why your human can’t wait a few years while I relax after hosting the games,” Jarren continues with a sniff, “I’m just too good to you all.”

Jarren waves his arm across the room and beings begin to appear in the seats instantly. Some I can name, like a mermaid in a tall booth of water, and a troll whose seat is as wideas the whole left hand side. My eyes are drawn to the high ceilings and I start to wonder if it was fashioned that way, or an accommodation for the troll’s height.

“What are we here for? I was in the middle of watching the Romans go at it with the Huns.”

I can’t track the voice fast enough before people all over the courtroom start shouting. This one was in the middle of a massage, that one was time jumping. One orc slumps in his chair, eyes glazed over; he doesn’t have to say what he was doing before getting pulled here. Jarren takes his time getting his centaur form settled into his chair and then raises his hand to silence everyone.

“No one wants to be here less than me, but our wonderful Donella has called us all together to hold trial for her mate’s revenge.”

All the sound is sucked out of my ears.

Mate?

Okay, first of all,fuck you Jarren.

And secondly, I definitely heard that right. Donella and I, we’re mates. I want to give her a “did you know about this?” look but when I face her, she gives me a sheepish smile and turns back to Jarren, so I do the same. I’ve trusted her this far, we can talk about it after.

Jarren gives Donella the floor and I’m quickly distracted by listening to their retelling of everything that happened just two nights ago. That all-consuming fear of helplessness in your last moments starts to creep up my chest again but, by the time they pull out the box to illustrate how they transported the witches here, my breathing is back under control enough to add my two cents when Jarren asks me to speak.

“I am not their only victim. They talked like they’ve been doing this for years. So even though I stand before you‘unharmed’,”—I say in air quotes—“there are plenty of people who’ve died because of them.”

“Yes, well, let me see about that.” Jarren holds his right hand out to me, “Look at me human.”

Once I do, my eyes feel locked in place. A cold sensation rests on the top of my ears and I start to get a throbbing pain in the back of my head, like a brain freeze. I can feel Donella grab my hand, and I squeeze it lightly. A moment later, Jarren drops his hand and the cold is gone.

“I have seen?—”

“What were their names?” Someone in the back interrupts Jarren, “You said it earlier, their names?”

“Henrietta and Marlmadine Clairce,” Donella says beside me.

I can hear the pitter patter of steps before I see the source—a thin, blue woman with wings comes down the stairs to stand in the front row.

“In addition to the human, I will vouch for Donella.” Her voice is tinny and shrill, but her anger is very apparent. She speaks with her hands as well, reaching forward with her fingers in a strained choking form, as if one of the sisters is standing right in front of her. “Those two insolent fools cost me the end of my bloodline when they stole my great great granddaughter from her bed. You should’ve seen the state of distress she was in when she landed in my living room as a wraith, what was that, it had to be eight or nine hundred years ago now.” She finishes with her hands on her hips, eyes baring into Jarren like she might chokehimas well if given the chance.

One by one, several others begin to speak up about people they know that have been harmed by these two. Apparently they started this whole stealing youth thing because they wanted to fake their death to get out of paying their debts and start over, but they never learned their lessons. They’ve stolen homes, andhorses, failed in several big-time heists, and all the while left a trail of women and femmes dying unconscious and alone in their wake.

Finally Jarren stands and bangs a gavel I hadn’t noticed before. “I’ve heard enough! Hand me the box,” he motions to Donella. She steps forward and gives Jarren the box containing the two witches in roach form. He opens it andpoofsthem back into their human bodies but chains now appear around their wrists and ankles.

“Now, let me see, how old are you two?” Jarren murmurs, mostly talking to himself. He’s passing his right hand back and forth over his view of the sisters.

“Oof! Fourteen centuries?” The audience starts to chatter but I can’t catch any words, I’m stunned. These women are basically living fossils. I shiver just then, living fossils lithe and strong enough to knock me out, carry me somewhere, and fight me. There goes my stomach again, I actually hear it gurgle this time.

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