Stealing Moments Against Her Will

A body stiff with death and wrapped tightly in strips of clean linen lie on a cold slab of dark stone. A young Caligari crouched beside the body, moving slowly and deliberately as she finished this step of her work. She was in a low roofed hut, roughly built and congested with the sweet smelling smoke of incense or something worse. Caligari’s clean hair was held back in three crisp braids and she was dressed in a simple frock that hung loosely over her body. There was a soft plinking of bells outside and Caligari’s head drooped.

“A moment. Count thirty heartbeats then enter.” Cali’s voice was clear and lighter in pitch, possessed of none of the gruff tones she’d develop later in life. She gave the body a quick inspection then slipped a necklace over her head. It was a crude piece of jewelry constructed of bird bones. It was also a complete sham serving no purpose other than to convince people that it had significance.

The woven reeds and sticks that served as a door were moved aside, for it had no hinges, and six young women ducked their heads and slowly entered the hut. They were remarkable in their beauty, but more so in their exactness to one another, like six identical copies from the same scribe as he wrote down the recipe for grace and allure dictated by Freyja herself. The sisters knelt around the body at intervals while Cali wedged the door in place before stoking the coals burning away in a makeshift hearth.

“I asked you not to bring into this ceremony the makings of stone or metal because they interfere with the magic we will be working on your sister’s behalf.” Cali indicated the dead body and each sister reached out as one to caress the wrappings. “But if you have, now is the time to hand them over. No? Very well. Let us begin.”

~~~

Back within the wall of Hel’s Palace, Cali screamed. She was an old crone, worn by age and drugs and a corruption that stemmed from her sexual deviance over the many years that separated now from that defining night almost six decades prior. She held an arm up to shield her face as fourteen hands belonging to seven well preserved corpses clutched at her brittle gray hair and sagging breasts and bulbous belly.

“You deceived us,” one of them moaned.

“You promised us,” another shrieked.

The accusations hurt as much as the clawing hands and each of the sisters picked up the call of the preceding. In life they’d been named, after a fashion, for the seven virtues of the goddess Freyja: War, Death, Love, Sex, Beauty, Fertility and Gold. They were born within minutes of one another, septuplets who survived the risks of mortality and long-term morbidity to grow into beautiful women who knew a bond that none could rival. And it was that bond that brought them to Caligari’s hut seeking her magic, though she was hardly more than sixteen herself. The one named after Death had taken ill with a disease running through her so violently none could identify it. Cali took one look at her and declared her to be cursed. She’d even tried to purge the curse, but it was beyond her ability. She simply did not have the strength to lift the curse from this dying girl without taking it upon herself. And that had spawned a dreadful notion. If she could take into herself the curse of another, what was to stop her from taking more? Even at this age she’d been tormented by the sights and sounds of the dead for as long as she could remember. She knew it was possible to form a bridge between the living and the dead; they clamored for her to be that bridge. But she had other plans in mind and before that night ended all seven sisters lay dead by her hand. The magic she performed that night was clumsy and raw, but it was effective. She’d stolen the youth from these sisters and mummified their remains, consuming their organs and insides like a wild animal. They were quietly buried in a place chosen carefully for its undisturbed rest and from that day forward the aging process in Caligari was diminished, allowing her the years she required to hone her magic and build up a tolerance to the vile drugs and concoctions she inhaled and ingested. And she was haunted by the sisters every moment. She grew accustomed to it, but it never got easier.

“You violated our corpses.”

“We will violate you.”

They pulled at her thighs and Caligari screamed. She fought to free herself from their claws...but something was wrong. Their hands were too few and too large… and covered in fur? Cali struggled against the weight that was pinning her down and heard a low growl in her ear before ---

Cali’s head rang, but she found herself opening her eyes and scrambled to her feet. Garm was staring at her, his eyes glowing a soft blue. The witch looked around, but there was no sign of the seven sisters. She had long strands of drool drying on the back of her neck and deep scratches at her hips. She heard the scuffle of shoes in the distance and peered further down the dark halls. When she turned back Garm was upon her, pressing his nose against her tender pelvis again. Gods that hurt; like she’d spent the night swapping cots with the menfolk of an entire village. She hefted his head up to eye level and looked back and forth between those blue eyes.

“That was not our deal, Garm. This can never happen again, do you understand me? A woman likes to be awake when she’s ravished by a beast. Now make yourself useful and allow me to mount you.” Cali lightly kicked at the front leg until the wolf had knelt down and she was able to crawl onto his back. She shifted until she found a position that wasn’t entirely uncomfortable and smacked him roughly on the rump. “Now we’ll see how you like it,” she teased him harshly, but he did indeed seem to enjoy it. He was almost purring like a cat when they took off at a fast trot to find the others.