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seven

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The next morning, I wake up warm, sated, and …

“Havetopee!” I stumble-crawl over Donella to get to the bathroom, her laughing following behind me.

After we’ve both washed up, and had a bite to eat, I grab the comb I won and ask Donella to sit at their table.

“Will you tell me a little more about this meeting?”

Donella nods stiffly, but is quiet while I stare at their head trying to figure out how to part their hair around their horns.

I think I’ll have to twist the front pieces and start the braids behind the horn bases.

And then if a few baby hairs fall out to frame their face, it’ll be okay.

I use the comb to part their hair down the middle and that's when I realize Donella hasn’t spoken yet.

“We won’t need an appointment?” I prompt.

Donella shifts in their seat and clears their throat.

“That’s right.”

They are quiet again while I comb through the left side, untangling with my fingers every time I hit a snag. The side is completely smooth, and I twist the hair in front of their left horn before I divide the hair behind in three sections.

“How many people have to be there to witness?” This time, Donella’s quicker to answer.

“It’s the same thirty-five every time. They get pulled from whatever they’re doing any time the court is in session, but they get extra perks like front row tickets to the games and unlimited cheese so it works out for them.”

“Oh, so cheese is popular here too?”

“Yeah, almost every farm has a least one variety of cheese, but some farmers have rows and rows of various crops that bloom at different times of the year so cheese is always exciting around here.”

Now that it seems like Donella has relaxed a little, I set myself to focusing on making a thick braid and ensuring that all their little ends stay tucked in. I’m almost ready for a hair tie when I realize what they just said.

“Your cheese … Grows?”

“Yeah, in tall stalks, ow.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s got a thin skin that you have to peel back, and then you can eat it right off the plant without cooking it.”

“Sounds like corn in my world.”

“Hmm.” Donella’s quiet again while I start the same process on the right side. I take my time to make sure everything matches up. Pretty soon I tell them I’m ready for them to take a look in the mirror. Donella smiles and puts an arm around me.

“We match.”

“Yeah, is that okay?”

Donella kisses me. “It’s perfect.”

“You dare argue with me, demon?”

Oh shit oh shit oh shit.

Three different irritated voices sound off from the one god in front of us. Donella has filed the required paperwork and got us both through security to see him during office hours. Except that he’s too busy bathing and has decided he won’t see us, won’t even reschedule, because the witches’ murders happened to people outside his realm.

I mean, honestly, what more can you expect from someone as pompous as him. I’d be fine to just ask Donella to keep them as magicless bugs and be on my way at this point but she’s not having it. She’s cited every policy and bylaw in the book and he keeps refusing us, getting louder and more brash by the moment in his dismissal. I tug on the back of her shirt every few seconds but she’s not getting the memo. I need some distraction.

What was that counting thing Nneke used to do when she got panic attacks? It was like five things you see, four things you hear, and so on? Well, considering that what I was hearing was three distinct voices coming out of only one god, let's just focus on what I see.

Umm, okay well, we’re in a room to start off with.

Which is so weird because there are trees everywhere and clouds on the ceiling but I can see the creases in the sky where the walls meet and yet somehow I feel a breeze.

God magic.

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 court today . 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 wide as 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 choke him as 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, and horses, 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 and poofs them 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.

Focus on something else.

Jarren’s voice booms over the buzz in the air and everyone quiets down again.

“Fourteen?” he turns to someone sitting next to him in the first row, “You know, that was around the same time I came up with those silly little birds, what were they called?”

A chorus of people around the courtroom rings out, “Dodos!”

“Oh, yeah, right, well?—”

“Are they gettin’ sentenced or not?” A cyclops the size of my hand, standing on a pedestal in the second row, interrupts.

“I’ve got a jazzercise class that starts in five minutes, so are we adjourned?”

Grumbles from the courtroom rise up and then taper back down when Jarren speaks.

“Yes, right, right, you two are hereby sentenced to fourteen centuries in the eighth circle of hell. And once you’re done with that, you’ll live in this realm as magicless, flightless little dodo birds who can only speak when spoken to.” With that, Jarren claps his hands and they’re gone.

A relief like I’ve never felt comes over me.

It’s done, and I never have to see them again.

Jarren stands and addresses Donella, “Donella, you’ve done a good thing here today and I apologize for not listening to you at first. You and your mate are dismissed.”