Death swore, Mr. D’Arcy’s failure, the first in over a millenia, left Death to re-evaluate Black Annis with a certain amount of professional awe. In accordance to protocol, Death had grievously, excruciatingly, harmed the only friends Mr. D’Arcy had known and loved. The very same beasts come pets of the other horsewomen of the apocalypse. Professional and personal standing poles apparent.

 

She quite liked the other three. The no nonsense goose Heathcliff, Scarlett the ginger cat, and Tea Time the rabbit had been a part of her life for as long as Mr. D’Arcy had. She knew the laws of reciprocity would be harsh after all she had dished out to them, and she knew not one of them would bat an eyelid at her treatment of them. It was part of the job for them as much as it was for her, yet deep down, unsaid, and to eternally remain so, she did feel a pang of regret. Acknowledging that there was one so wily as to out fox the inscrutable abomination of Mr. D’Arcy, was most likely no fault of his whatsoever. More likely, the foul hag, Black Annis, was of such cunning, that on even terms it was likely she herself may well have had the devil’s own time in dealing with her. Resultant, she went to her immense library, and moved directly to the section relating to ‘The Then’. Wandering past the stacks containing every ‘Womans Weekly’ ever printed, Death finally arrived at the shelves labelled ‘Immortals 😊’. Then she began to dig.

 

After an hour or so, and after dismissing Deities, the undead, beasts, and demons, she happened across a footnote. The footnote held a single sentence, and the single sentence held a single  name. A single name that generated the evilest of grins.

 

‘Bast’.

 

It was time for her to pay a visit to The Then, and bring Bast to The Now. From the front seat of a clapped out 1967 VW beetle of indeterminable colour, and in a cloud of blue exhaust smoke, she disappeared from the library of her home.  Maude was belittled the entire way.

 

♕

 

“If you are going to find her, and you are going to find her,” stated a fire eyed Death, “you’ll need to head to the local library. I should start with mythology local to the British Isles. From there, try the children’s section and see what you can make of the fairy tales they have in stock. It may even pay to see what the brothers Grimm have to say.”

 

“Surely, as she is a few centuries away, couldn’t we just rely on the memories of the locals of the time?” queried Cat. “There are bound to be people here in The Now that could point us in the best direction right now?”

 

“No my dear, you are forgetting the rules of The Now” answered Death. “What is happening a few centuries ago there, is actually happening right now.”

 

“Ah, pardon?” said Bast, wearing confusion the way a hand wears a glove.

 

 

Click the picture above.

 

 

N.

 

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