“Bast,” said Maude, gently shaking her shoulder. “Bast, come on, time to wake up.”
Opening her eyes slowly, she realised she was laying on shaggy grass. The smell of it gently filling her nostrils, its springy thickness comfortable against her back. All of Bast ached. Between strained muscles, deep lacerations and equally deep bruising, combined with the effects of sheer bone deep exhaustion, amongst the last things Bast felt like doing, were waking up, and moreso, getting up.
“Christ on a bike!” Bast croaked. Sardine began gently butting her head against Bast’s own. “What fresh hell is this? I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus and run over by a tram. How long have I been out for?”
“Not long,” replied Cat. “no more than half an hour at a guess.”
“And Black Annis, is she dead?”
“Sadly no, although I guess that as she is not, it will give Death something to be happy about.” Maude answered. “She might be less happy about the car though. The train shoved it off the road when it left, and it seems to have come off rather worse for wear.”
“Ah, so now what?” asked Bast.
“We were rather hoping you could answer that one.” said Cat flatly.
Slowly standing, Bast wandered over to where Black Annis lay trussed. Her horrid cloak of death had been removed from her, and lay rolled neatly and tied off with a belt some distance off. Both of the large knives remained in place, the one Bast had stabbed through her shoulder lifting Black Annis into an unnatural position. Maude’s kukri stood proud at right angles, from her hip. Blood covered her, and yet her chest still rose and fell minutely as she breathed.
“So, if we can’t get her to Death, I guess we will have to bring Death to us.” said Bast looking down at the blonde headed woman laying at her feet. Sardine was now rubbing herself against Bast’s legs. “Maude, how do we summon Death?”
“Well,” Maude stated laconically, “the usual method is to die. As that isn’t something we can offer, the best I can suggest is to either find a phone and give her a ring, or, go and get her.”
“Bugger, I thought that may have been the case.” cursed Bast, looking up at Maude. “Couldn’t you just yell? I mean not your usual ‘cooee, three pints of Absinthe, and don’t spare the horses’ sort of thing. More like some seriously old school, hardcore Goddess rebel yell? Make yourself really big, or throw your voice or something?”
“I’m not sure.” quipped Maude. “I’ll give it a go.”
With that Maude returned to the form of the Goddess, and like the beanstalk emerging from the magic bean, she grew. Bigger and larger, and entirely proportionally. On reaching ten metres in height, her feet had lengthened to become slightly longer than Cat was tall. But that is not where she stopped, she kept growing and growing and growing. Once she had reached a height incalculable from the ground, roughly sixty five metres, give or take, Maude boomed down at them and chuckled. “Best you cover your ears ladies.”
“DEATH! We got her!” she repeated three times. Tree’s crashed to the ground under the force of sound, windows ten kilometres away shattered, sailors out at sea felt the vibrations in the hull of their ships.
In a dainty sitting room far far away, four blue rinse perm sporting ladies, all dressed in twin set’s, cliché old lady beads and spectacle wearers, looked at one another as the small room began to shake. Mr. Darcy and the other pets of the Horsewomen of the Apocalypse stopped running around Deaths garden, glanced fleetingly at one another, and fled to the dark confines beneath Deaths veranda. The enormous goose ‘Heathcliff’ ducking to get under it.
“Christ on a bike!” thought Tea Time the ridiculously large rabbit to no animal in particular. “What the hell was that?”
“Hell’s teeth!” thought Mr. Darcy loudly, “they’ve got her!”
“What, Black Annis?” thought Scarlett the giant ginger cat back to him.
“So it would seem.” Mr. Darcy thought to all.
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