The thing I'd most associated with Circe, beyond ruthless single-mindedness, was competency. Sure, she'd been crazy to deal with demons and eventually it had caught up with her, but she'd managed it for who knew how many years. And aside from a few practical things, like healing, she didn't bargain directly for beauty or obvious power over others...she'd primarily been after knowledge. She hadn't been the most forthcoming teacher, but based on conversations with other mystics, after I left, I got the impression she had been head and shoulders above most mystics, not even counting all the people who never dealt in anything but simple stage imprints. On top of all that, when her dangerous methods had caught up with her, she'd somehow managed to stay alive...and she'd seemingly only learned more in the past few years.
So when she begins to freak out....when Circe, begins to freak out...it scares me in a really fundamental way. Add to that my compass suddenly locking onto her like a missile, and previously risky things like letting her talk somehow start to seem way more reasonable.
I manage to convince Augusta to do it, though I still urge her to be careful, because despite the compass and the shackles, this woman is not to be trifled with. The knife she picks up doesn't quite mesh with her outfit...I think it's middle eastern, or supposed to be...but it certainly doesn't make her less threatening, and either Circe feels the same way or she's doing some very good acting. After some quiet threats, Augusta loosens the jaw-ripper or whatever it is. Whatever Circe says to Augusta, it's garbled, and too quiet for me to make out from where I am, but I can tell from her body language that Augusta doesn't like it.
"What did she say?" I ask, as Augusta turns slightly to look back at me. Her face looks...extremely worried, at best. Near panicked, even.
"Nothing immediately helpful," she says, hesitantly, an answer which doesn't seem all that helpful itself. "I...can't be sure I'm understanding right, she's pretty garbled..." What she says makes sense, but her careful tone doesn't quite match her alarmed expression. Maybe she just doesn't want to speak freely in front of Circe?
"Don't loosen her any further," I warn. "I'll see if I can make anything of it." I concentrate and completely block my own gravity, then pull myself forward with the edge of the table, causing myself to drift horizontally towards them. Looking down, I see the hem of my dress wafting about and give a humorless smile.
"I must look like a g-" I swallow my words as I look up and see Augusta's expression, now hovering somewhere between alarm and fright. She's backpedaling away from me, her aura fluctuating wildly as she holds up the dagger between us.
"Stay back, just stay back!"
"What? I can't...I-" My momentum is going to carry me right into her, my current speed is outpacing her stumbling retreat, unless something... I restore my gravity and my course dips sharply to the floor. There's a dull uniform pain across my rear and the outer sides of my legs as my...leg-block?...hits the floor with a thud. I tip forward and catch myself with my hands before my face follows suit, then bend at the waist and straighten back up. Augusta is looking back at Circe, who is looking between both of us.
"Kill...noou...quickly," I make out Circe urging, as I'm now close enough to hear. Right. Circe is trying to get her to kill me, but that's not really that surprising. The problem is, Augusta is debating it, I can see it in not just her face, but how her aura is shifting from greenish to red, and-
Her aura?
I've never been able to see auras before. From what little I know, it takes a rare incant plus years of practice to interpret them properly. But I can see both of their auras now, and there are black clouds in each. The cloud in Circe's is deep and old, but with a thin sheen of glistening black on top, whereas Augusta's cloud is very, very small, but subtly splashing, like the pool of a fountain, constantly being replenished. A thin tendril connects the black around Circe to that around Augusta. I somehow know what it all means, and I feel disgusted, almost physically nauseated. At the same time, there's a rising feeling of...not hatred exactly, but intolerance...that something is not as it should be, something that can't be allowed to stand.
"Nooo!" I hear myself shriek. I have to do something, but I can't think what, and then suddenly words come to me, strange lilting syllables of mostly vowels. I don't quite know what they mean but I'm somehow sure they will make everything right. I begin to speak them as fast as I can.
Circe cries out in wordless panic and Augusta's indecision turns to horror. For a second she hesitates, but when her aura settles on dark red, she takes three quick steps forward and stabs the knife directly into my neck so hard the tip emerges from the opposite side, cutting my strange incantation off in mid-syllable. I'm so surprised, it doesn't even hurt really, but it feels like I have to cough and I can't. Augusta looks surprised too, and even more horrified-
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"What did she say?" I ask, as Augusta turns slightly to look back at me. Her face looks...extremely worried, at best, but her uncertain panic gives way to a sort of unfocused blankness for just a moment.
"What? What just..." She seems shocked, horrified even, and winces a little. The blank expression worries me more, though.
"What happened, what did you feel just now? Turn away from Circe, don't look her in the eyes!" If Circe had picked up wordless Mesmerism somewhere, as I now suddenly feared, it could be really, really bad. I concentrate and completely block my own gravity, then yank myself forward with the edge of the table, causing myself to drift rapidly towards them, my expression grim. Augusta looks confused, then alarmed.
"No, stay back, just stay back!" Her free hand flies to her mouth and she looks at the dagger in her other hand, then flings it away as if it had suddenly turned into a poisonous snake. I swear silently. Circe must have done something. But she's still shackled, so all I have to do is cover her eyes somehow, without actually looking at them myself. Augusta stumbles out of my path, and I catch myself awkwardly on Circe's shoulder and one of her shackles, my head turned to the side to avoid meeting her gaze. I fumble my hands upwards until they're on either side of her face, palms covering her eyes, and she starts shaking her head wildly, trying to dislodge them.
I consider having Augusta tear a strip off of Circe's dress for a blindfold, but who knows what she thinks she's seeing now, I don't think I can rely on her. And I'm not sure I can manage that myself, plus tying it over her eyes, all while she's whipping her head around, without accidentally making eye contact. I think of one thing I could probably do by feel...even while she's thrashing, she's not really that strong. I shudder and immediately reject the abhorrent impulse at first, it seems worse somehow than slitting her throat. But my palms feel odd, and I realize even though I'm not looking at her, I'm somehow seeing Circe anyways in a kind of false-color outline. I shut my eyes, but that only makes the colors brighter, except there really isn't that much color, a little yellow and pink and red but mostly a black cloud with a glistening sheen on top. A thin tendril leads away, and when I realize it leads towards Augusta, I feel this wave of revulsion and before I know it, my thumbs are up to the first knuckle in Circe's eye sockets.
She screams, impossibly loud and high, and there's an echoing scream from Augusta off to the side. My thumbs are wet and warm and I can feel Circe's eye-muscles twitching around them. It's the most horrible thing I've ever felt and yet somehow not enough, but then suddenly words come to me, strange lilting syllables of mostly vowels. I don't quite know what they mean but I'm somehow sure they will make everything right. The incantation spills off my tongue like liquid, it only takes a few seconds. Flame springs up around Circe and Augusta, pure white and too bright to look at, consuming them utt-
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"What did she say?" I ask, as Augusta turns slightly to look back at me. Her face looks...extremely worried, at best, but her uncertain panic gives way to a sort of unfocused blankness that goes on for several seconds. "Augusta? What did she say? Are you okay?" She seems to come out of it, but she's still staring at me with this unreadably mixed expression, her eyes rather wild. Pain is part of it, she's holding a hand to her forehead and has the other wrapped around herself. I begin to concentrate on blocking my gravity so I can come over there, but I'm interrupted by a sudden shout from her, one palm raised towards me desperately.
"Stop! Don't block your gravity, don't come closer, just wait a second!" Now it's my turn to stare.
"How did you-"
"I don't know! Stuff keeps happening, but it's different, except it's all awful..." she interrupts, wincing at the volume of her own voice. "Something seriously bizarre is going on, but it all starts with you leaving that table, so just don't, okay?" I nod, baffled, and she rubs her temple absently, grimacing, but seems to relax a tiny fraction. "Do you...remember that happening?" Circe looks equally baffled, and is becoming increasingly agitated in trying say something to Augusta, who is ignoring her.
"Remember what? I haven't moved from this table since I got you in the chair and started cleaning your head wound. Oh...shit."
"What? Oh. No...I don't think this is from a concussion or anything," she says, though she's still rubbing her head and doesn't look certain. "Look...do you know an incantation that can...reverse time somehow? Or...burn people with white fire? Sounds sort of like new-age yodeling?" Circe freezes, staring at Augusta. My own eyes go wide.
"What?! No, I've never even heard of anything that messes with time like that, not with real magic anyway. Let alone via...um...yodeling? I know there are ways to make fire, but I don't know any of them myself...what is this about?" She bites her lip in uncertainty, only half paying attention to me.
"Maybe it's me, then...like that dream, only I'm awake this time...or am I?"
"Augusta, I think maybe you should sit down and drink some water. I'll talk to Circe, okay?"
"No..." She turns to Circe. "What is she 'taken' by? Be specific," she warns, raising the knife back to her throat. Circe speaks for a moment in more low mumbles, with occasional glances at me. Taken? She must...think I've gone mad from the Whispers, though it seems like I'm actually the only sane person here at the moment. I still can't hear what she's saying, but I can tell the air isn't twisting. Augusta turns back to me.
"Julia...tell me something about you, something you've never told anyone."
"Augusta...you're not making sense..."
"Just do it, please?" She looks so pleading, I sigh and reluctantly think about it for a moment.
"Um. Ok...when I was seven, I fed one of our goldfish to our cat, Alice. I felt really bad about it afterwards and...um...I scooped Alice's box the next couple days and...buried her poop, with a little funeral service." My cheeks flush a bit and I roll my eyes at myself, but continue without pause. "Now can you explain why-" Augusta actually smiles a little, then closes her eyes-
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"What did she say?" I ask, as Augusta turns slightly to look back at me. Her face looks...extremely worried, at best, but her uncertain panic gives way to a sort of unfocused blankness that goes on for ten seconds or so. "Augusta? Are you okay? Augusta?" I look at Circe, afraid that despite our caution she has something to do with this, but she seems as alarmed and confused as I am by Augusta's odd behavior. Suddenly Augusta falls to her knees, moaning, the knife clattering out of her hand onto the floor. I concentrate and completely block my own gravity, then yank myself forward with the edge of the table, causing myself to drift rapidly towards them. Circe begins to struggle, but I manage to catch myself on her shackles anyway. I quickly re-tighten the metal contraption around her jaw, ignoring her guttural complaints, then push myself down to Augusta, restoring some of my gravity along the way.
"Augusta, can you hear me?"
"F...uh. Hurts so much." She looks up at me, squinting, shakes her head. "You're not s'posed to be over here, bad stuff. Unh." She shrugs tiredly. "Help me to the stairs...have to try..."
"Help you...how? Can you block your gravity?" Augusta frowns, then pushes herself gently off the floor with one finger. I nod, then tow her back to the table, reducing my own gravity enough to make the process possible, if not elegant. I grab the bottle of water.
"No...stairs.." she protests. "We can burn the door..."
"Water first," I insist, tipping it to her mouth. "Besides, only living things burn down here, we tested that." She drinks a little, then pushes the bottle away.
"I have an incantation." I frown at her.
"Um, no...even if Circe gave you an incantation to burn down her own door, she can't possibly have given you the proper pronunciation with her mouth like that, it won't work..."
"Not from her...from you." Circe freezes, and her body language becomes ridiculously tense. I eye Augusta's head wound and try to speak slowly.
"I don't know any incantations to open the door, and I haven't taught you any aside from the Cloak I got from Jock...I don't think you're thinking straight..." She takes a couple of breaths, then looks me in the eye and speaks slowly, vaguely mimicking me.
"When you were seven, you let your cat Alice eat one of your goldfish." I blink at her stupidly.
"That's...what?"
"And you had a funeral for the poop, which was...well, gross, but also really sweet of you, even if you did make it necessary in the first place...I guess even as a kid your morals were kind of all over the place, huh?" I just stare for a moment, and she shrugs. "Trust me, okay? Strange things are afoot...but I can get us out of here, I think." I can't imagine how she could possibly know that, I've never told anyone that story...it makes me more than a bit worried, so much so that for a moment I imagine she's glowing green and black with some hidden power, but I push it away. She's talking to me so casually, for the moment, it's like she doesn't hate me...somehow the most important thing seems to be not to mess that up with irrational worries.
Between the two of us, we manage to help each other to the top of the stairs, though Augusta has to pause a couple times...her head really seems to be killing her.
"Okay...to be safe, I have to try to make...whatever happen first...just wait a second." I nod uncertainly, and after a moment her eyes go vacant for a couple seconds like they did before she collapsed. But her brief calm expression is shattered by a mask of pain and she cries out, curling up and clutching the sides of her head. It sounds like she's actually weeping from the pain. I put a hand on her back hesitantly.
"What can I do?" She raises her head, and I can see blood is running in a trickle from her nose.
"Uuuuunn. That...unh...that didn't work..." She sniffles around her sobs and moans. "Just...you have to...please...try to...uuuuhn...stay calm?" Her face goes slack, her eyes closed.
"Augusta?! Oh shit, no no no..." I feel for a pulse at her neck, but after a frantic few seconds, I find one and begin to breathe again. "Stay calm, she says... Fuck me." I don't have any time to screw around anymore, I need to get her to a healer five minutes ago. There's only one thing I can think to do.
I pull myself along the mortar in the wall, with a strategic push off the ceiling when I drift too high, and make my way back to Circe. As I approach her, reclaiming the knife along the way, I try to bury my fear and loathing underneath my overriding concern - I need a way to help Augusta. Calm. I put one hand on the knob of her jaw-contraption, then pause while I speak slowly, keeping all inflection out of my voice. Calm.
"I am going to loosen this. You are going to tell me what I want to know. Trying to do or say anything else will have consequences." The air doesn't twist. Even entirely committed to following through on my vague threat, I don't quite expect the abject terror that fills Circe's eyes. But it puts a song into my heart.
A song of strange lilting syllables that don't quite seem to mean anything.
I loosen the knob.