Sisters of Sodom

Lost in her thoughts, Eudora lit up her cigarette without even noticing that one shop assistant had been eyeing her from the moment she had taken the offending object out of her pocket. A moment later, the dumpy, middle-aged clerk came rushing over just as Eudora had begun to enjoy the nicotine balm.

"Miss, you can't smoke in here!" were the only words Eudora allowed this irritating speck of a person to say, before chanting a minor spell. It was a command that pierced the clerk's weak-willed mind easily: shut up and go play in traffic.

The woman paused, turned on her heels and did exactly as instructed, her face strangely blank as she walked briskly towards the revolving doors.

Eudora then went back to her cigarette, taking in another breath and finally smiling. From inside the dressing parallel room, Sølvi asked with a low voice, "Was that magic, pretty heks? I'd swear I just sensed...something."

She was then interrupted by a loud crash, and screams coming from the outside of the shop. Following her centuries-old Eir instincts, Sølvi immediately rushed out of her stall, in nothing but her underwear, worried about what may have happened.

"Stop right there, Brünnhilde," Eudora grunted, stopping Sølvi's trajectory with an outstretched arm. She pushed her companion back into the dressing room. "You're not alone on your island anymore, remember?"

"But—!"

"This is a big city, Sølvi. And there are other...healers to take care of things. Besides, we don't go out in our undies around here. Like, ever."

To make her point, Eudora pointed to Sølvi's wobbling cleavage, and moved downward to the outsize lump clumsily tucked into her undies. Looking down at herself, the viking girl suddenly felt her first twinge of self-consciousness. It was an almost entirely foreign feeling to her.

Without question, she heeded her friend's remarks and quietly re-entered her stall, nodding slowly with a puzzled expression on her face. "Sorry about that, pretty heks. When someone screams, it usually means something bad is happening, and my first reaction is help, and..."

"And that's what the paramedics are for, sweetie," Eudora added, closing the stall's drapes and removing the Viking witch from her sight.

"Para...medics? What are those?"

"I told you. Healers. That's what they call them here. They're everywhere. No need to worry. Just don't go swinging that...thing of yours around in public, I don't want to waste any more magic keeping you out of trouble."

The punk pythoness quickly glanced outside of the door and saw people gathering around the gravely wounded, probably critical woman laying on the concrete ground. She relished her smoke even more now, the sharp flavor filling her smiling mouth.

Not only did the gory scene secretly delight her, but it suddenly made Sølvi's naïve ebullience much more tolerable. And what was more, the ease with which she cast such a spell meant that her powers had nearly recovered in full.

Still, she knew that these powers alone would never be enough to realize her ambitions. I need that fucking artifact for myself, the pythoness thought to herself as she took one last breath and then tossed the spent cigarette aside. That belt was the only reason Eudora had brought Sølvi back from that godforsaken island and was enduring all of her silly requests.

From inside the changing room, Eudora could hear the healer getting dressed once again.

"Pretty heks, are you sure these tailors do not mind me requesting so many pieces of clothing?" Sølvi asked with an uncharacteristically timid voice while coming out of the stall. "I mean, I could do with just a few, so maybe there is no need for me to..."

"Don't worry about that, Søl," Eudora commented with newly-restored composure. "My friend Gary is glad to help you...adjust to your new life, so choose to your heart's content."

"Oh, he is so sweet," Sølvi commented. "I was wondering. Is he your soulmate? He is so nice to you...I can feel the love he has for you, from the way he looks at you."

"Soulmate? Are you kidding me?" Eudora exclaimed, snickering puffs of smoke.

"I'm sorry, is this a wrong term? I did not mean to be humorous..." Sølvi said. "It is just that...you know that my belt allows me to strongly sense the energies of mortal men. And from him, I felt a very strong feeling of devotion for you. But it is harder for me to sense the energies of witches...oh, perhaps I should not say so much about what I do not understand."

"There's not much to understand, Sølvi. Gary is like all men—simple, like dogs," Eudora said nonchalantly amidst the squall of ambulance sirens in the distance. "Oh, and never mind that sound. It is merely, um...music."

"Your people make such strange music..." Sølvi mumbled in confusion. "Some of it sounds beautiful to me, but this song sounds more like the howling of wolves...I suppose I should not judge it..."

"Judge not, lest you be judged," Eudora mumbled casually under the din of noise, then her voice dropped to an inaudible whisper: "Then again, the Bible was probably written by people even more ignorant than you..."

"I am sorry, pretty heks, did you say something? The music is so loud outside, I could not hear you..." Sølvi said, poking her head around the corner again.

"Nothing," Eudora said, finishing her cigarette. She threw it on the floor and exterminated it under her heel, burning a black spot into the rug. "What's that you got on?" she asked, noticing that the girl appeared to have selected an ensemble that looked much more reasonable than previous experiments.

"You know, Søl, that burgundy sweater actually looks good on you. Makes you look almost normal. Although those cargo trousers aren't exactly working," Eudora started, seeing a possible inroad to manipulate the girl. "I know you're curious about skirts...I see you stare at them, but you always shy away. Why not go ahead and try one out?"

The healer witch did not detect the ulterior motive behind Eudora's question, yet frowned all the same, lowering her eyes then looking away for a moment.

"Oh. You know I can't do that..." Sølvi's said solemnly. "The sacred belt gave me this...burden, that I alone must carry. I wont be able to hide it, wearing those things..." she mumbled, sounding very conflicted. Eudora saw an opening here—where there's conflict, there's room for the power of suggestion.

"Well, that's the issue then, don't you think?" Eudora retorted quickly. "You're a woman, dear, with needs. And that magical cock of yours is just what you said, a burden. It's a pointless accessory that's only keeping you from enjoying your new life here. You are free to remove it at will, right?"

But once again, the Norwegian witch was adamant when it came to her duty: "The sacred artifact that has been bestowed to me is the last memory I have of my tribe...it's not just an accessory, you do realize that?" Sølvi sulked, gave one last look at a very feminine dress on display, and then headed to the cashier.

Just kill me now, Eudora thought to herself, watching the healer witch as she went up to the counter with a grab-bag full of clothes no sane modern woman would buy all at once. Could it be that even this strategy would prove as ineffective as the first one?

No matter what she did, what tactics she used, it seemed like the Norwegian witch would not even consider letting go of that treasure around her hips.

The gears in Eudora's mind began turning faster. She knew her regular witchcraft would be of little use here—it would be like using a wooden hammer to break down an iron wall. Sølvi was too powerful, and she appeared to have no particular vulnerabilities to occult magic. Not just that, but the artifact itself was clearly granting its wielder enhanced powers. Eudora could feel how strong its aura was whenever she came close to it.

Her other secret weapon—her body—had also proved to be frustratingly ineffective in swaying Sølvi's resolve. Her increasingly unsubtle advances over the past few weeks were repeatedly met with nothing but awkwardness.

Normally, Eudora could seduce most any witch whose soul harbored even a glimmer of bisexuality. Unfortunately, as Eudora soon found out, her Norwegian companion had no such predisposition. The girl simply had no detectable sexual interest in other women at all, no matter what the punk pythoness did.

Even worse, Sølvi proved to have no shades of submissiveness to her, at least nothing easily perceived. This vexed Eudora greatly, as she could not figure how on one hand Sølvi was so loyal and trusting, and yet on the other hand so completely resolute in her convictions.

This final realization about the healer's nature led the punk pythoness to plan a completely different approach: to convince Sølvi that the belt's effects could prevent her from being a true woman, and forever ruin her romantic prospects in life.

It seemed to be the only card left to play. She considered the fact that Sølvi had been sitting on that cold island alone for so much time, her body certainly must crave physical, earthly pleasure—true relief.

She reflected on the many moments where, as they walked the streets, Sølvi seemed prepared to entertain even the crudest catcalls, her reactions flattered where most other women would exhibit nothing but scorn. And then to the times when even a mere poster advertisement featuring a male model could cause her to stop and stare.

Despite her questionable attire, the incognito viking witch was undeniably eye-catching in her own way. With her long pale hair, snowflake complexion, heavy eyebrows and enviable bust, she turned nearly as many heads as Eudora did. Granted, the men who ogled Sølvi generally appeared to be on a lower social rung than the hip, urbane types who typically flocked around Eudora. But she did not seem to notice or care.

The viking girl's vision had not yet been corrupted by the culture of her new environment. Yet the more she learned about the world, the more she was feeling curious about the feminine side of things, to try and map her own understanding onto this alien terrain.

As the two of them left the store, Eudora moved to her companion's side and leaned forward, suggesting they should try something different for the night.

"Well, it seems we're both pretty much tired from all the wandering around, aren't we Søl? You had your sight-seeing, and all these capitalist explorations of modern fashion, and fine dining...although, I still have to teach you not to eat with your hands..."

The viking girl snickered childishly. "Oh, I apologize for that part. Some of your people's eating tools are still new to me, especially the 'napkins' and 'spoons' as you call them. And those knives, they were all so dull! How could one cut anything with—"

"I know, I know. Makes you wonder why we even still have canine teeth, right?" Eudora interrupted, though the Viking girl simply stared in silent confusion. "Never mind that, anyway. I think it's time for you to enjoy the more deviant side of this big city..." she said with a dry grin.

The punk pythoness tucked her arm under the healer's shoulder and guided her towards the nearest subway entrance, catching a last delicious glance at the ambulance leaving the tragic scene nearby.

"Deviant?" Sølvi asked, looking around the crowded subway train. "Perhaps this is not a good idea...the Seiðkonur of my tribe, they warned us against wanton indulgence in deviance...especially those of us who have made sacred vows..."

"You will be perfectly fine, glacier girl," Eudora interrupted, nudging her friend in a playful manner. "You wanted to explore everything modern, right? That also means learning about...clubs."

"Oh. I had a club once, when I was younger. Before my father forged the axe I carry into battle, all vikings first learn how to wield a club. Mine was strong, stone, blessed by Odin—"

"No, not that kind of club, dummy. You'll see," Eudora said.

Solvi now looked like she was feeling curious, and at the same time ashamed to be so. The punk pythoness was enjoying that, as she needed her healer friend to be as emotionally vulnerable as possible.

"Besides, you and I have our... special gifts. There is basically nothing we can't deal with. Even without a club or axe on hand, you could easily beat down most of these people."

"But...I thought violence was not tolerated here," Sølvi asked, doubtful. To that Eudora only replied with a laugh. She then waited to see what the girl's decision would be.

"Okay, pretty heks. I'll follow you to this deviant place, if you believe it will be enriching," the Norwegian witch said. She was smiling again now, her trust toward her new punk friend remaining strong. "But there is something I would like to ask you, if I may."

Eudora turned her head, looking a bit wary about the preamble, but she nodded. To that, Sølvi continued: "What's...what's wrong with my new boots? I notice that you often look down at them—"

"I don't know what you are talking about," Eudora said in a suddenly severe and almost scolding tone. Her head jerked to the side and her eyes darted away. She couldn't help but look a bit uncomfortable as memories from the last months resurfaced in her mind. "There's nothing wrong with your boots," she added pensively.

Having said that, Eudora went silent, leaving the healer to wonder what had just happened. Whatever that was, Sølvi had no clue. But at least she had neglected to mention that those same boots were making her socks smell bad.

When the train finally went above-ground, skimming noisily over the Manhattan bridge, Eudora pulled out her phone and started searching for the location she had in mind. Sølvi could not fathom why so many people in this city seemed attached to these strange glowing talismans, so she merely peered out the window, enjoying the scenic panorama that had just opened up.

Nightfall had arrived, and the jagged, inky borders of the East River were dotted by thousands of tiny lights. It thrilled and amazed the young viking girl to think that each one of these tiny torches denoted a home, an individual life, a story. The city was full of them.

"Next stop, Marburg Avenue," a voice blared over the subway intercom. "This is us," Eudora finally said, tapping Sølvi on the arm. The two stepped out onto the platform and made their way to the street.

Sølvi took note of how this region felt different from the previous one; there was something slightly more relaxed about the people, less towering about the architecture, and it all incrementally felt closer to her own sensibilities. Still, as the two of them approached their destination, she immediately felt out of place.

"This is the place of depravity you spoke of?" Sølvi exclaimed curiously, eyeing the roped-off, neon-lit establishment guarded by several expressionless men in matching black suits and sunglasses. Although the men did not intimidate her, she did not find them inviting either.

"Just be quiet and don't say anything about thunder gods or any weird shit," Eudora instructed. "Not that they'd know Norwegian anyway. Just let me do all the talking."

Eudora marched confidently past the line of people waiting outside, going straight up to the guard by the door. She whispered a small incantation, and the guard's expression changed to a dopey smile.

"Party of two," Eudora simply said, covertly tucking two $100 bills into his hand to allay any unexpected resistance. Her magic worked all too easily on such a vacant mind, and the man moved aside without question.

"Bro, you know these chicks or something?" the guard next to him exclaimed, taken aback by how easily he abided Eudora's wishes. The man under her spell simply nodded his head with an almost laughably glassy expression.

The other guards looked Eudora and Sølvi over cautiously. Sølvi did not quite look old enough, nor did she dress the part, but ultimately the guards reluctantly deferred to the judgment of the first. The two witches found themselves merrily skimming past a long line of subtly sneering, gawking people.

"They call this place Titan Up," Eudora said, rolling her eyes at the corniness of the title. "It's a place for women like you to...explore more basic desires. Take a look around. There are really very few rules here, you know. This isn't like a normal club. Think of it more like a...mead hall, or whatever."

Sølvi looked around, wide-eyed, at the scene inside of this large dark place. The floor rattled with the insistent, anonymous thump of dance music, tiny seismic shocks flowing through her whole body. Strobe lights and flashing colored beams danced around her like heavenly bodies.

The space had many tiers and corridors, but it was not like any fortress she'd ever known. There was instead something truly hedonistic about the place, its energy rife with lust of all stripes. Even the mead halls of her memory did not seem so wild.

What Eudora did not tell her was that Titan Up was one of the most expensive, and better assorted, night clubs in the entire city. Normally, two strangers never have been allowed in on a Friday night without being on the list, but playing games with the common folks had always been one of Eudora's favorite hobbies.

It was then that Sølvi first took note of an unusual symmetry regarding the people there: it was completely inverse to her expectations. To her surprise, the patrons were mostly women. Entertaining them, in all corners of the room, were scantily-clad men.

Big, strong, muscular men of the sort she had nearly forgotten existed. Most of the guys she'd passed on the streets, even the ones strong of spirit, appeared physically soft. These, on the other hand, could intimidate even a Viking. Their physiques looked closer to the portraits and statues of the gods littering her home back on Signekjerringøyathe.

"These are...titans?" Sølvi asked, feeling blood rush to her face as she watched them gyrate so strangely under murky colored lights.

"That's right, Søl," Eudora said, playing on the girl's own psychology. "They are feared men, you know, but they are also, um, valorous. That is why the women here enjoy their company so much."

"Herregud...!" the viking witch exclaimed, feeling her blood rush to more intimate areas now. The throb of the dance beat that animated these sculpted "titans" seemed to entrance her.

"Take your time Søl, and remember that as long as you're here, you may do as you please...within reason, of course," Eudora concluded with a grin, rubbing the girl's shoulder for a moment before perching herself on a nearby barstool.

Sølvi stood there at the edge of the dance floor, dumbstruck. She remained there for several minutes, simply marveling, until she heard a voice from behind her.

It was not Eudora's; it was far too deep. She swung around in surprise only to lay eyes on one of the very "titans" she'd been ogling earlier. A musclebound man, nearly a foot taller in height, with a thick black beard, small dark eyes, and a dusky complexion.

His skin tone was far darker than hers or even Eudora's. She'd seen a few men of this shade before on the streets, and wondered about how they acquired such a trait. Some Vikings she'd known painted their faces in preparation for a battle, but this was something very different.

Up close, she could see no paint. This ebony color was the actual hue of the man's flesh; was he a descendant of the mighty oaks? Perhaps he carried night sky within his blood, or was was born of the earth itself? It did not take her long to simply conclude that it was unimportant. All she knew was that his presence made her heart flutter.

"Enjoyin' yourself yet, darling?" the man said, leaning towards her. Her eyes scanned his physique; aside from a small blue cloth covering his loins, his body was bare and slightly sweaty.