Chapter 6: Cat's Paw
He watched the ancient goddess pace the room like an agitated house cat, but he didn't say a word. It was not such an odd comparison, given the lazy felines strewn across every inch of the Temple of Bast. He didn't bother with the Old Ones, generally. While there wasn't necessarily a war akin to the Old and New gods in the Gaiman-verse (yes, of COURSE he'd read Gaiman; deities tended to assume an expected form if they interacted in the world. So, naturally, with one of the man's claims to fame being a couple interesting interpretations of him in comic and on the small screen, thus influencing his form, it was only apropos that he'd read the man's work) but it just wasn't often that people who summoned him were also summoning any of the ancients. And he found humans far more entertaining than his own kind, anyways.
"Nemesis warned you," the statuesque woman said, turning her head to examine him. Her feral green eyes were on him as though he had had the poor taste to bring his hellhounds along with him. "And not only did you ignore that, but you stole her away on a night when she was clearly Herne's."
"I deny none of it, Bast. What I don't understand is your stake in this. As you said, she belongs to Herne. Why do you even CARE?"
The raven haired beauty narrowed those jeweled eyes upon his and he saw the pupil alter, become slitted. In her lovely sienna complexion they looked more than just a little out of place. He could have sworn the temperature dropped and the sky overhead filled with clouds. "I have plans for her."
Lucifer arched his brow inquiringly. "You don't play the substitute deity, Bast. I know you haven't asked Herne or even Brigid for their leave to play with one of their Priestesses. So please, tell me another half-truth and expect me to buy it..."
He swore he heard her hiss, but instead of answering, she walked to an overstuffed chaise lounge and settled upon it, her right arm on the rest of the chaise, her long, lovely legs on the cushions to her left. She hadn't bothered with any clothing on her body save an elegant golden collar. Not the massive Egyptian neck ornaments as seen on statues of the goddess herself in cat form... no, a simple housecat's collar, made of a thin band of gold. Her body was lithe and supple, with full hips; sizable, yet firm breasts, and lips that drew his eyes repeatedly, imaging kissing them or seeing him stretched around his cock.
"You'd chance enmity with Herne and Brigid for her?" He asked nonchalantly, well aware of the answer. "I know she is a 'cat person' but so is every other suburban housewife."
"That's a gross miscalculation and mildly sexist, Morningstar."
"You're deflecting, Bast."
"And you're a snake."
He nodded without offense. "And so is Set. Now answer me."
"I was asked to guard her. And I have ever since she was three years old." Bast said, almost defiantly. "By more than one of her familiars." She looked a little chagrined and added: "She speaks to me. Granted, I didn't choose her before she was claimed by any of the others. And I could have."
"Why didn't you, then?"
"When she was looking... she wasn't ready for me. She was broken and hurt, but... she was not ready for what I ask of my followers. So, I left her alone." Bast frowned at her long, sharp red lacquered nails critically, looking otherwise disinterested. There was something off by this show of boredom, and he then asked: "Such interest in a woman who's beloved of her cats... granted, I imagine most THREE YEAR OLDS aren't so much. Her cat said 'Bast, protect my human'? When she was little more than a toddler?"
He watched her very closely, his whole being focused on catching a lie if one was told. But Bast looked uncomfortable and finally sighed. "No. It was her sister."
"The younger one? I thought she was Catholic."
"Not that one." Lucifer frowned, trying to piece together what he knew of watching Gwendolyn nearly half a year now and what the goddess was saying, but he was coming up with noting but confusion.
"There were three." Bast said quietly. "The little soul was only days old. Gwen was three, and it would be her another three and a half years before she would have another living sister. But when the middle one passed through, all the death entities saw her. She didn't have much in the way of desires, wants or regrets. She was days old but an old enough of a soul to recognize the pain of her departure for those left behind. She asked for nothing... she just wanted her family watched over. Anubis watches the parents and youngest sister. I watch both sisters. Anubis already had eyes on the men the girls married, so I just... co-opped them as family later."
"So... your plans for Gwendolyn then—"
"And Evangeline. She appeared when they were very young."
Lucifer frowned and it was that information that made him move to sit down on one of the marble temple benches... the growl made him pause, look down where he had been about to sit and saw a chubby long haired flat faced orange ball of fur. "Sorry," he muttered to the cat and picked it up, sat down and began to pet it in his lap dumbly.
"You look ill, Lucifer," Bast remarked.
"I am trying to figure out how one random solitary witch has the attention of so many of us. And that you say Evangeline wasn't always there lends more to genuine mental trauma issues and not her being an actual Gemini, twin-souled."
"Does it?" Bast asked, amused. "How many have you known? Of either sort?"
Lucifer rolled his eyes. "A few of the former, unfortunately. I get the most interesting 'fans'."
