Cobwebs and Catacombs: A Sisters’ Story

Cobwebs and Catacombs: A Sisters’ Story

Dorymyr lived above her antique shop, the Antique Barn, in a refurbished studio space suitable for her large frame. Her bed room, kitchen nook, and living space were two or three times that of ordinary ones. They needed to be: Dorymyr was an ant arachne, half woman from the waist up with a sizable spider’s body from where about her hips would be down. Eight legs, six, ruby red eyes, and standing at eight and a half feet tall, Dorymyr’s true form was positively inhuman. She set out delicate, white porcelain tableware for three; herself, and her two sisters due any moment now. Her human hands cracked open a fresh box of donuts from the nearby bakery while using her two forelegs to dole out knives and forks. She was ready to host.

A wiry black cat lingered on the kitchen counter sphinx-like. Its emerald eyes narrowed on the shiny silverware with ill-intent. Dorymyr quickly removed him. “Baron, no.” An exhausted sigh escaped Dorymyr before she could maneuver the feline to the floor. The older cat mewled at his manhandling. He scurried off to his bed near Dorymyr’s plastic covered couch. Dorymyr’s eyes scanned around the kitchen table. “Duchess.” The orange tabby’s tail poked out from under the table cloth near Maritama’s seat. Her forelegs shooed her second cat away as well. Duchess hurried away to her perch on a windowsill overlooking the room, and the birds on neighboring rooftops.

She adopted the pair a year ago from a customer; the older woman couldn’t keep them in her new apartment situation. In addition to her shop, Dorymyr fostered a half dozen cats at a time. Her fostered kittens lived down in the shop for the most part, but Baron and Duchess needed their own space. Baron was an older gentlecat with a poor disposition, and Duchess jealously guarded her sibling. So, Dorymyr took them in. For the most part they were well behaved, except when it came to activity around the dining table. How an ordinary human could track them with just two eyes seemed an impossible task. 

A brass bell rang from outside her side entrance. “Hey! Dor-bee!” Maritama’s booming voice echoed in the alleyway. Her older sister pulled the brass cord a second, then a third time for a good measure. “We’re here!”

Dorymyr texted her yesterday that the sidedoor was going to be open, but she supposed Maritama didn’t check prior. Peeking out Duchess’s window, she saw both Maritama and Paige waiting by the red steel door: Maritama in her green tunic and red cape, and Paige in a sleek black dress accented with tulips growing from the hem. “Yeah, I’ll be there. Hold on,” she said through the glass before making her way down to them. Dorymyr’s shop was once a machine shop: the first floor served as the machine shop proper while the second floor was for storage and office space. There were stairs connecting the outside side entrance, and a flight leading down to her shop. She pressed on the steel door’s push bar.

“Morning. I have breakfast ready.” Dorymyr spoke flatly. 

Maritama wasted no time dodging a raised spider leg and reaching around Dorymyr’s waist for a quick hug. “Oh you big bug! You smell like a bakery.” At least her sister was mindful now of her horns when she forced her familial affection. Dorymyr returned the gesture with a pat on Maritama’s poofy white-brown hair. Her sister’s sizable luggage case sat on the ground along with a menacing halberd resting up the shop’s wall.

“Let me grab your bag,” Dorymyr offered.

“If you don’t mind,” Maritama released her and grabbed the weapon. “I only got a shower at the parent’s place. I’m starving.”

Paige bowed briefly, then presented a covered wicker basket. “Mom gave us these. She says she’s sorry she can’t make it for our breakfast.” Her voice carried like air escaping a closed book. “I think it’s quiche.”

“Ah, dad must’ve made it.”

Dorymyr pulled Maritama along into the entrance. They couldn’t linger long; it was cold, and she had a feeling her pets would eye up the kitchen table again. Duchess watched from her perch as they passed under the window. The orange cat met them at the door and used Dorymyr’s spidery leg to stretch. Why she did this only with guests eluded Dorymyr, but it endeared the cat close to her heart. She knelt down and gave the kitty a good few scratches under her chin.

“I see a few new pieces,” Paige commented. Her attention narrowed to a statue beside her designated living room; a brass falcon held aloft by a steel pole forever beat into the air. Silver highlights, tin, colored its feathers. “What a lovely bird.” Paige gravitated to it and gave it a once around. 

“It’s from a local downtown. I thought it complimented my rustic, rusting aesthetic. It was also cheap.”

“I can see why. There are some burrs here and there, but the shape and motion of the bird are positively lifelike. It’s also very well balanced. Getting the supporting pole under it-

Maritama dragged a wooden chair leg along the stone floor. Dorymyr and Paige would go on and on about the bird uninterrupted, and Maritama was coming from work across dimensions. “Oh wow. You went all out for our sake?” She removed a powdered donut from its plate with a two-finger touch. An hint of suspicion lingered just long enough for Dorymyr to understand her older sister already caught on to her slight deception. “Thanks for the meal.”

“I smell ink tea. I’m interested in whatever our dear sister intends to propose, after breakfast.”

“You’re not the one Dory-bug is expecting get their hands dirty.” Maritama waggled the donut and spilled white powder over the tablecloth and her plate. 

“You are a mercenary, Mari.” Dorymyr grabbed the two silver pots on the stove top, and the fried eggs with a foreleg and began to serve her sisters. Maritama loaded up her plate with bacon and onions. 

“I’m an adventurer, in most places,” she countered. She added the eggs and mixed them in with her other selections. A spoonful dollop of sour cream topped the meal before she began cutting into it. “I don’t just take any job. I have a hero’s reputation to uphold.”

“Heroes tend to work pro bono.”

“This old schtick again-”

Dorymyr’s short ripostes did not distract her from serving boiling hot, black ink into a tea cup for her other sister. She was always conscious which tin was coffee and which was her paper sister’s drink of choice. Once, years ago, she mistook the two and regretted it ever since. Paige took a small sip before easing into her seat. There wasn’t a need to hide herself among her family; Paige’s human guise melted away. Her skin grew pale and creases appeared without the healthy sheen of imitation skin along her arms and face. For Paige, changing her appearance was like breathing. She didn’t need the taxing magic necessary to hide in the mundane world in which they grew up.

Maritama dismissed her disguise with a snap. Two horns appeared on her head along with a green stem distinct from the top of her white head of hair. Her pupils changed into sheepish rectangles in pools of sky blue color as she talked. Maritama was like their mother; a sheep-shaped plant monster called a Barometz, and like their mother, her brown hair turned whiter by the day. Dorymyr was quite content with her own darker than black hair, and she wasn’t bold enough to try making such a striking contrast between her similarly dark skin and a cotton-white dye job. Paige wore blonde today in her usual, springy curls. The rolling scrolls of yellow locks were highlighted with pastel pink.

“Why don’t we talk about it after our meal,” the cool Paige wistfully suggested. “You’ll let it get cold.”

Chairs were for bipeds; Dorymyr folded her legs under her as she took her place at the head of the table and between her sisters. Even sitting, she was still a head and a half taller than Maritama’s curled horns. She picked out two glazed donuts for herself, a bearclaw, and a heaping helping of eggs she covered in ketchup. Her foreleg poured her own coffee before passing Paige her own breakfast selection: damaged auto magazine pages folded into biscuits. Her paper sister took two to pick at. 

“How’s the mural coming?” Maritama asked.

Paige uttered a well-practiced sigh. “Delays. The owners can’t agree on the subject. One is set on a beautiful depiction of flowers and honeybees. The other is against it.” She dipped her faux-pastry in her inky drink. “Not a good look for a gym, he says.”

“What about, like, a really cool bee?” Maritama offered between scoops of eggs. “Like that one from the ball-shooting game at Dad’s favorite park? Killer Beez, I think.”

Skeptical, Paige hummed for a moment. A visible wrinkle appeared on her forehead. Whatever strange, sideways thoughts passed between Paige’s pale ears were enigma to Dorymyr, and the conclusion Paige came to in that moment was like divining the contents of a lead-lined lockbox. Paige’s lips creased into a faint smile before she dabbed her faux-biscuit on the plate.  “I’ll sketch something out. Maybe. What about you Mari? Any daring-do dangers you’d like to share?”

“Hardly. My current gig is guarding the docks in Iobracci. Chasing off kids, breaking up drunk fights, and scaring off any mermaids bold enough to get near. The pay’s good though, and they are comping my room and board. In a month I’ll have enough for another expedition inland.”

“Alone?” Dorymyr asked.

Maritama shook her head and sipped of orange juice. “There’s a green party at the Guild. I need extra hands, and they need a chaperone. Win-win.”

“As long as they don’t know you’re a monster too.” Dorymyr added a dash of salt to her eggs. “Then you’ll be the one hunted, again.”

“Eh, I’m not as sloppy now. I don’t jump at every call to adventure.” First to finish, Maritama set her fork on the side of her plate. “It sounds like you’ve been to Iobracci.”

“Twice. It’s a convenient place to portal to.” In spite of the city’s hostility to monsters, its low-lying coasts and abundance of leylines made tearing open the veil of realities easier than elsewhere on the isle of Artuccio. “I never stay long. I see my contacts and usually book a ship north to Trasscurare. Monster merchants tend to ask less questions about dealers in cursed antiques.” Her flat accent sounded phoned in compared to her sister who lived and breathed Artuccian culture. 

“Sounds like a real adventure-”

“The Governor-Captain has your face plastered all over Trass. Wanted for assaulting a city guard, disorderly conduct, collaborating with human criminals. The bounty was quite high. Are you sure you’re a hero, and not just, like, a non-state menace.”

Flashing her winning smile and two thumbs up, Maritama got up from her seat. “Bonafide, genuine article here. It’s everybody else who’s got to catch up. One you need too. What kind of job did you have in mind?”

“We’re still eating.”

“But-”

“You haven’t had any quiche yet. Wouldn’t want that going to waste, do we?”

Paige pushed the homemade quiche in front of her sister. “Be my guest.”

Grumbling, Maritama folded back the tinfoil covered pie dish. A well seasoned quiche crammed with whatever their pops added sat inside. Sausage and swiss, Dorymyr’s sensitive nose detected, and a sprinkling of white pepper. Her sour sister’s demeanor changed in an instant. “Ah dang. It does look good.” She sat right back down and cut a decent slice of the egg pie for herself. Dorymyr did the same. Dad’s quiche was something she missed living at home, but she much preferred having her own space. Even the cramped room the sisters once all shared proved too small when Paige and Maritama moved out.

“How is everything with the shop?” 

“Fine. I have repair orders to do, some cleaning to keep me busy after that, and I’m going to some estate sales in April. There are some lots I’ve seen advertised. Beautiful armoirs, and record collections. Vinyl is popular with kids and I can’t keep the big names in stock.”

“Vinyl sits too heavy on my stomach,” Paige said with the utmost seriousness. “Oh, you mean to buy and sell, huh?”

She tried not to laugh, but Dorymyr’s red hand failed to stop her dry chuckle. “Oh- it’s- it’s fine Paige. How was your breakfast?”

“They don’t make magazines like they used to, literally. The ink was heavier, and a more complicated texture. If you have more…?”

“There’s a few downstairs.” 

Dorymyr finished her quiche: savory and salty, both she and Maritama ate it by hand like pizza slices. Now their plates were clear, and the cats were getting anxious about their guests. Duchess slinked around the chairs. Baron lurked on her sofa; his green eyes peered over the arm rest no doubt looking to get himself into trouble. Guests were rare in Dorymyr’s place, but luckily the two upstairs bound felines could tolerate the female members of the family. The real problem was her father. They liked him too much and pops was seriously allergic to cat dander.

“So… about this job? Maritama’s hand brushed the orange fur lurking around her. “I assume it’s more than moving furniture.”

Cleaning up with four appendages made cleaning up a cinch. Her humanoid hands gathered all the plates and cups into one tray, and everything else onto another. Her spider legs had the same microhairs that allowed ordinary spiders to climb walls. She just applied their stickiness and strength to other tasks too. She set them both in the sink and gave each a spritz of soap and water. The cats wouldn’t bother them then. 

“It’s downstairs. I think there’s something in my storage space.”

“Like… a rat?”

“I haven’t exactly seen it. I think it might’ve been bigger. only saw its shadow and heard feet running away.” Dorymyr held up two fingers. “It sounded like two feet.”

“Oh! I love hide-and-seek.” Paige chimed. Her sisters rolled their eyes. Of course their shapeshifting sibling won every game of hide-and-seek they played since she was adopted into the family, until mom panicked when they couldn’t find her folded inside a book. “I’m in.”

“It’s- okay.” Dorymyr pinched the bridge of her nose before gathering her composure once more. Her plan was to have Paige watch the cats in case this took a while, but she could text her sitter. She fumbled with her spider keychain in her pocket and dialed in her passcode without looking. “We can head downstairs and I’ll show you. Just mind Duchess and Baron. They think it’s fun going down to the floor.”

The Antique Barn sat on the first floor of an old mattress warehouse while Dorymyr converted the office space on the third floor into a livable situation. A staircase with two landings separated them: the second floor was a work in progress. She hadn’t decided what to do with the old employee lounge and kitchen yet, so for now she kept the magic artifacts from other worlds locked inside. She pressed the metal bar to the first floor and led them to the shop proper.

“Two feet, huh, and you can’t find it in your shop?” Maritama’s voice echoed down the stairs. She followed Paige into the darkened storefront. The stairwell deposited them behind the register desk. A dozen grandfather clocks of different sizes and styles greeted customers, and a wide showfloor exhibited other artifacts of interest. Cats lounged around on the clocks and other sun soaked surfaces uncaring about the monster sisters. Dorymyr gestured to the main showroom. Currently, a grand piano occupied the center of the floor. A few stringed instruments were positioned along the wall. Shelves of sheet music, insturmental how-tos, and vinyl records in their colorful sleeves invited wandering eyes to peruse their contents.

“Well, it’s not an ordinary storage space. It’s back here.” Past the piano, in a smaller room where men in the past assembled bedframes, she showed them her usual stock of glossy, old wood desks and sturdy chairs. She turned to an empty corner only a few feet across and ten feet high. With a wave of her hand, Dorymyr dispelled the illusory disguise over a strange door. The style was extradimensional in origin; Dorymyr hadn’t gotten it appraised by a specialist yet. Ash gray grain wood composed the sides of the doorframe, while the door itself depicted a snake with wings flying down to the floor. It slumped back against the wall, disconnected. She removed a brass key from her breast pocket and undid the simple tumbler on the door. Hot, dry air seeped from the cracks before it even opened.

Her sisters each took a step back from the threshold. Dimension-hopping Maritama was the first to voice her protest. “A portal? You’re using a portal for storage space? I can’t believe it.”

“These are very dangerous, but-” Paige examined the snake on the front. “It’s wonderfully mysterious.”

“I got it in bulk, here. It’s obviously not from our world and I don’t know how it ended up at a Home Depot outlet.”

As a rule, dimensional magic was dangerous. No matter how careful a caster is, or how prepared one can be, there was always a risk of crossing the boundary. Personal transport spells risked landing off course, or blindly leaping into a crowd. The magic they learned at least prevented them from phasing into a wall or underwater. Portals existed on a whole different level. Expensive and difficult to build, and equally dangerous to destroy, an open portal was both a consistent way to cross worlds and an ongoing risk. What if something on the other side decided to force its way through? Maritama’s worry was well-founded, but Dorymyr had few other options to deal with it.

“There wasn’t anything on the other side before. I thought it was abandoned.” Dorymyr opened the door. Inside was a cavernous ruin of greenish stone inscribed with similar snake motifs. The floor, ceiling, and walls were made of rough hewn square blocks. A wall of heat washed over them. “See?”

Maritama stuck her head through the portal. “What are you keeping here? Desks? Shelves?”

“It’s convenient.” 

Unconvinced, her sister pressed for more. “Do you know what’s outside?”

“It’s a desert. There’s two more rooms that are smaller, and a gap in the ceiling I investigated. I climbed up and got a lay of the land. There was nothing as far as I could see with binoculars.”

Paige slipped past them both and crossed into the ruin. Her eyes were drawn to the pictographs. “Let’s check it out. We can handle anything with the three of us.”

“If I say we need to leave-”

As Maritama scouted the perimeter, Dorymyr checked her stored merchandise. Thoughts bubbled up from her subconscious, unbidden. Dorymyr knew how dangerous an open portal could be than anyone. She was born in a different world. Her time there was fuzzy, but unpleasant to recollect. One day, she saw an out of place woman hiking the forest trails Dorymyr lived in. Hungry and tired, she followed the woman hoping she could spare a crumb. Then, that woman pulled open a cellarway door that Dorymyr was sure was not there before. Angry, red light lit the earth and colored the air around it in a toxic hue and the woman descended down. Dorymyr didn’t hesitate; she threw herself at the door just before it shut and pursued the woman into the unknown.

Sure, it worked out for Dorymyr. She snuck around for a time watching her would-be mother and father raise Maritama. Before long, a mix of envy, desperation, and loneliness compelled her to reveal herself. They listened to her, and they accepted her without a second thought. Yet, what if it wasn’t a hungry ant arachne kid with nowhere to go? What if a real threat crossed that portal?  Dorymyr turned back to the door and locked it tight. She did not keep the doorway out of hubris; she did not trust anyone else to take it as seriously as she did.

“I can show you around,” Dorymyr offered. She slipped the key back into its place. “This is the big room. I keep all my merchandise here. On the left is the dome room. That has the hole in the ceiling, and there’s a bit of sand in there. On the right is the small room-”

“What about calling them Cubicles?” Paige tried to joke. 

“Uh- no. This is my extradimensional closet space, and I’ll name the rooms.”

“Big. Dome. Small.” Paige skipped towards the archway leading to the small room. “Hey, it’s dark in here.”

Maritama set the big bag of adventuring gear she carried down and fished for a flashlight. “I got it. Dory-bug, can you take my spare?”

“I don’t need it. I have excellent darkvision.”

Whispering, she thrust the flashlight up to Dorymyr. “Paige will forget it.”

The two beams of white cut through the gloomy ruin. Like Dorymyr stated, there wasn’t much to the space: three rooms, some sand, and more winged snake-birds depicted on the walls and decorating the arches. Dorymyr didn’t want the hole in the ceiling worsening, so she used a bit of her webbing to secure it in place as well as keeping anything from falling in. The trio paraded around, stopping where Paige wanted, and finding little evidence of any two legged trespasser. Twenty minutes passed into an hour. There were no signs of any life at all.

“I’m beginning to think you imagined it.” Maritama took a sip from her waterskin before giving it to Dorymyr. “As for the portal…” Her sister brushed aside her white-brown hair back over her shoulder. “Let’s keep it between us. Mom’s boss doesn’t need to know.”

“You’re welcome to use it. I can fit more stuff in here- hey? Paige?”

“I saw a bug!” Without a second thought, the paper girl unwound and vanished behind a desk pinned up against a wall. Dorymyr had checked there before. She was sure of that.

“Wait! Oh man, what if it’s dangerous?”

Dorymyr crossed arms. “Like if it’s poisonous?”

“Right or- oh, good point. You got this Paige!”

“Release me apostate!” A tiny voice squeaked as it was ripped from its hiding place. “You dare touch the God Ramuntakeh, Lord of All That Crawls? I am the Nightbringer! I am Oblivion! Let me go!” A creature resembling the snake-birds in miniature was wrapped like a mummy in Paige’s amorphous body. It wore a tiny ruby on its small golden crown. Its eyes were like a snake’s and it had a mix of green scales and feathers on its back. Despite its claims, the tiny God couldn’t break free from its paper bondage.

“Haha, he’s biting me.” Paige chuckled. “Don’t do that little guy.” As she reformed her humanoid body, she flipped her tiny prisoner upside down.

“You papyrus fiend! Wadjet sent you to claim me, has she?” The little God’s thrashing produced little else but laughter from his captor.

“No. I don’t think so. You need to meet my sisters first. See?”

“Gah! Ghastly! Hideous!” He recoiled away from view and pulled paper over his eyes. “Foulest trespassers who desecrate my temple and use my home as storage space, begone and never return!”

“This is your home?” Dorymyr asked. “Ah. I apologize. I assumed it was abandoned.”

“Strike at my pride will you? Wound me? You eight legged harlot, I’ll see your estate fallow and your kin afflicted with curses-”

“Whoa, slow down you little shit.” Maritama rooted around her bag and removed a coffee tin. “Cool it, or I’ll put you in here and give you a good shake.”  

“Never! Hrnh. Hrah.” Again, the little God tried to fight free, but Paige’s bindings kept him from doing much. 

Dorymyr exhaled sharply. “This feels like bullying. Maybe we should let him go? I can just lock up the door after bringing all my stuff back in to my store.”

“If that’s what you want. I was debating letting him loose in your store and seeing how he handled the cats.”

The little God let out a balloon deflating like squeal. “No! I am no feline’s plaything. Not again!”

“It’s okay Mr. Oblivion. Mari’s joking. She’s a hero after all.” Paige stared down directly at her prey. Paper-white, empty eyes reflected nothing until veins of black ink filled in her missing details. “We won’t hurt you.”

“Demon! Fiend!” The God’s cries melted into sobs. “Why me?”

“Yeah, this is kind of messed up,” Maritama agreed. Shifting away and returning her gear to her bag, she circled around Dorymyr to the door. “Hey, Ramuntakeh. We’re just gonna pack up and go. Paige, could you let him down.”

The little snake-bird stood on two equally stubby legs. He scrambled away from the girls, up the stone, and spied on them from the safety of the highest part of the temple walls. Unfortunately for the creature, Paige’s interest in him remained. She conjured sketch paper from her body and began capturing it on the canvas. He would hiss his commands, but his tiny voice barely carried in the big room. Dorymyr understood now how she missed him on her first inspection. 

“Do you need help moving any of this?”Maritama hiked her bag over her shoulder.

“No. It will just take me a few trips. If you could keep the fosters away from the door, i would appreciate that. Paige, love, make sure Ramu doesn’t try anything funny.”

“I think he’s very funny,” her paper sister unhelpfully responded. 

Close enough, Dorymyr decided. Her forelegs and left arm grappled the desk farthest from the door, and with the slightest effort, lifted straight off the ground. Maritama may have been the trained fighter, practiced spellcaster, and all around adventurer, but Dorymyr possessed strength in spades. She fished out the key and undid the lock. The temple air rushed out the gap and with a twist of the knob-

The door flew back into her, and she tossed the desk in surprise. Two knife wielding, half naked women rushed through the door. They moved on their hands, no, paws, and feet, and scurried under the preoccupied Dorymyr and past Maritama and Paige. The gleam of blades in their teeth caught her attention first. By the time the desk hit the ground they were avoiding Maritama’s grasp and heading into the big room. It was only then Dorymyr noticed familiar cat ears poking out of their heads: one orange and one black.

“Duke? Duchess?”

The two cat women ignored Dorymyr’s exclamation. Their heads swiveled left and right searching for something. Paige stumbled back and away from them. Her sketchbook absorbed back into her body. 

“Oh. Assassins.” Nonplussed, Paige collapsed into a pile of paper ribbons and scattered from the sudden intruders. “Mari. Help.”

“Are those your cats? What the hell is going on?” Maritama summoned her glaive with a snap; the gleaming enchanted blade separated the sisters from the cat women. They did not acknowledge the weapon’s threat either. “Who are you two?”

They spoke in an unknown language; their faces were unreadable masks. The two cat women wore  green robes and wielded kitchen knives. Dorymyr’s kitchen knives. Her mind scanned the robes once more: it was her table cloth torn and split between the two of them. If she was less concerned about her safety, she might’ve buried her palm in her face. Instead, she grabbed Paige and wrapped her like a cloak on her back. 

“Where is the snake?” The emerald eyed, black cat woman demanded. Behind her, Duchess continued hunting for the little God. 

“We asked first. Who are you?” Maritama reached for her back pocket for a phial of angry red liquid. It was a transforming potion. The kind of magic Maritama used when she was serious. 

“We are snake hunters.”

“Smart ass.” The cork popped, and with a single motion Maritama downed the contents of her liquid spellcraft. “Dory-bee, get out of here. I’ll deal with our unexpected guests.” 

Sparks cracked and popped as Mari’s cotton-white hair hardened into a burning charcoal. Black smoke poured from her ears and eyes, and ash sloughed off her rapidly crackling skin. Duke charged her; but quickly changed course; the glaive’s butt crashed where her head was a moment before and narrowly dodged a devastating blow. Dorymyr didn’t wait. She held Paige tight as she charged back into her store. 

“Flee! Flee wench! My life depends on it!”

The squeaky voiced God shouted in her ear. Ramu saddled her shoulder with his legs and grabbed hold of her arm with his wings. The cats heard him too. Of course they did. He didn’t have an inside voice. She leaped into the assembly room with a kick. Two of her eyes were trained on the battle inside the temple; Duke and the now burning Maritama engaged in a fierce battle. Duchess bounded past her partner, rolled over a sweep, and closed in on Dorymyr’s abdomen. 

Two options presented themselves before Dorymyr: kick the door shut and trap Mari with the twin assassins, or run from Duchess long enough for Maritama to catch up.  Yes, her sister could probably handle them both. It was also the heartless choice. She clambered over the cash register and back up the stairs. She had a better idea. The old door to the second floor crumpled under Dorymyr as she got as much distance between Duchess and the door possible. First, she grabbed the ungrateful snake on her shoulder and moved up to the ceiling.

“I had to rescue him, Dorymyr. What if he’s our cousin?” Paige whispered into her other ear.

“A divinity-” Dorymyr’s red hand wrapped around Ramu’s jaw and smothered his attempted disparagement. 

“I’d feel bad too.” She had only moments to get the the ceiling. Thankfully, she never repaired the lights or cleaned the tall windows. Only a few trace beams of light colored the collection of artifacts Dorymyr kept on the second floor. Here, in almost total darkness, she could bide her time. By the time Duchess reached the fallen door, Dorymyr ensconced herself in total darkness on the roof. She needed to get the employee bowling alley. She could throw that mouthy God in the ball return and evade Duchess at her own leisure. Inch by inch she silently moved. Duchess made no such efforts at concealment. So close to her target, yet frustrated once again, she kicked whatever object had the misfortune to be under her paw-padded foot. The metal box clattered to an unnatural stop.

“Shit. I forgot about that one.”

The box began violently spinning in place. Whirring and grinding, it angrily rebelled at the violence inflicted on it. Duchess recoiled and they both watched the cursed object rev up to full power. White and blue particles bounced off the floor around it before scurrying off along the lines of the tiled floor.

“Cover your ears Paige!”

Did Paige have ears to cover? Dorymyr never considered the question as she slammed her hands over her own head. The box rattled and bounced in place like a toy chihuahua until all at once its fanfare stopped. A miserable sound, a tone captured in the darkest pits of madness, inscribed, and given a modicum of malevolence, roared through the Antique Barn. Dorymyr gritted her teeth as the physicality of the otherworldly howl rattled her bones, her organs, and all the fluids in them. 

“Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.” She spoke her mantra to keep the alien noise out of her head. Ramu tried to fight her hand in a maddened attempt to escape, and Paige’s whole weight pressed on Dorymyr’s back. Thankfully, her sister was a lightweight even unconscious. Repeating her mantra, Dorymyr peeked with one eye below. She saw Duchess faring much worse. The cat woman tore at her head and foamed at the mouth. Her once-cat, now assailant drunkenly swayed over to the nearest wall. All of her hair stood on ends, and streaks of grey cut through her orange furred ears. Duchess lasted only a few more seconds on her feet before the curse totally incapacitated her.

Dorymyr eased herself back down the way she came. She dragged Duchess back down to the store. Maritama was cooling off with more water and a bound and equally unconscious Duke under her heel. “That was a hell of a noise. Are you okay?”

“Eh, it worked out.” She placed the catwomen together. “Paige’s out of it and-”

The little God must have succumbed to the curse as well. He napped soundly on her shoulder only holding on by his tiny legs. “We’ll have to see if they develop any unhealthy fascinations when they wake up.”

“Uh-huh. Any idea about these two?”

“Considering they were looking for him, and- wait, the woman who gave me Duke and Duchess. What was her name?” Dorymyr’s fuzzy thoughts could almost grasp the name. “Mrs. Wedgie?” No, Ramuntakeh said it. “Wadjet. Mrs. Wadjet. Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What?”

“It was right after I got the door. I said there was nothing there at first.” This time she did put her palm on her forehead.

“And you told your cats?” Maritama smirked.

“Yes. People talk to their pets, Mari. I didn’t know they were assassins. Which means… when I told you and Paige about the noise I heard in my storage space.”

“They knew what you were talking about. They knew to wait for us to let our guard down, leave the portal open, and- why not just steal the key?”

“I never thought to show them. I have it on me all the time anyway. I wouldn’t want to risk someone tampering with portal. So, they needed me to open it.” A weighty sadness pressed on her mind. “I like Duchess and Duke too. It’s going to be a shame to ship them back to Wad-ever.”

“Yeah, that’s rough.” Maritama pulled her sister into for a shoulder hug. “And I think Paige is attached to that little shit. All around L’s today.”

Dorymyr returned the half-hug. Her brain still ringing with the curse box’s sound, the revelations of the past hour, and the loss of her cats, she was all the more thankful to have her sisters’ support. “Man, he sucks.”

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