The Black Cat

"Asphalt from the street, leaves of henbane, datura, dried nightshade, and myrrh," Arabella said from inside, as Selima pushed the door the rest of the way open and came in.

The room looked different now. Most of the space was empty, and the rugs were pulled back, and on the floor a circle was drawn with salt, with candles burning all along the outside of it.

Arabella looked different too—she was naked for one thing, but somehow this sudden nudity didn't shock Selima. She shut the door behind her and approached, but hesitated at the edge of the circle.

"What is this?'" Selima said.

Smiling in her small way, Arabella said, "Your homecoming. We've been waiting for you. Couldn't you tell the first time you came into this building?"

She had, Selima realized. Something about this place was familiar, like a half-faded memory of childhood, although she was sure she'd never been here before the day she signed the lease.

Other things were familiar too—Arabella for one, and particularly the black cat.

"Come into the circle where you belong," Arabella said. But then she held up a finger in admonishment when Selima tried stepping in. "Ah ah. Take off your clothes first."

"I really shouldn't," Selima said. But she was already undressing herself, her hands moving in an automatic way, like she was sleepwalking while wide awake. The flickering candlelight made her exposed body glow.

Accepting Arabella's outstretched hand—firm and welcoming to the touch again—she passed over the edge of the circle. At Arabella's instruction, Selima lay down in the middle. Although the floorboards were hard she felt immediately comfortable.

Arabella knelt by Selima's head—the angle provided a very generous view of the other woman's naked body by candlelight—and pressed her fingers to Selima's temples. She was anointing her with perfume, Selima realized, a sharp, spicy scent that she recognized from the tea earlier—tannis root, Arabella had called it.

"Now repeat," Arabella said: "M I L O N , I R A G O, L A M A L, O G A R I, N O L I M"

Selima tried to say that she didn't understand, but to her surprise the same words came out of her mouth instead

"M I L O N , I R A G O, L A M A L, O G A R I, N O L I M...why do I know that?"

"The words have been in your heart all along," Arabella said. "M I L O N , I R A G O, L A M A L, O G A R I, N O L I M: To know all things Past and Future, to know things Forgotten, to know Tribulations to Come, to know things Propitious, to know things past of Enemies and future of Friends, to know the Signs of Tempests, to know the Secrets of War, and to know False and True, D O R E H, O R I R E, R U N I R, E R I R O, H E R O D, M I L O N."

"H E R O D, M I L O N..." Selima said. The words were hard and unpleasant, but easy to repeat. She followed along all the way until the end of the chant:

"Behold, I am a circle, say the gods. I contain my own beginning and my own end; nothing that is not part of me. In Urian's name..." Selima said, and almost as quickly: "What is Urian? Why do I know that too?"

"In some ways he's a father. In some ways he's you. You know him already, don't you?"

Arabella moved her hands across Selima's naked body now, but Selima did not object. The feeling of the other woman's rounded fingers massaging the sharply scented perfume into her naked breasts gave Selima a thrill.

"That's why you came to this building. That's why Trullibub found you. And that's why you're with me now. All of this is who you really are."

Arabella's hands wandered lower now. When she leaned over far enough, she kissed Selima again; it only lasted a second or two, but Selima came away from it panting. In the candlelight, Arabella's face looked almost angelic.

"Is this magic?" Selima said.

"There's no such thing as magic," said Arabella. "There's only what you take and what you give."

"Then why—?"

But she didn't finish, as they kissed again, slow and sweet, and then hotter and faster. Arabella rubbed the strangely scented oil on her hands again and started massaging Selima's body all over, working her palms and her fingers in slow, sensual circles. Selima couldn't believe how soft the other woman's touch was; in a few minutes she was mewling and writhing.

"That feels soooo good," she said as Arabella traced the shape of her body with her fingertips, then rolled her over to smooth the oils over the curved plain of Selima's back and the slope of her shoulders.

"I can't remember the last time anything felt that good," Selima said. It sounded like an obvious thing to say, but she felt so comfortable it was like she could say anything at all. The lights of the candles danced like fireflies around them.

Relaxing more, she let Arabella massage the backs of her arms and the rise and fall of her ass. The other woman's supple fingers traced warm lines down the backs of Selima's thighs and sculpted the outline of her calves. Soon her body practically glowed from head to toe.

Still mounted on her from behind, Arabella leaned down and kissed her behind one ear. When Selima sighed with content she did it again, and for a second the tip of her tongue darted out; it felt rough, like a cat's.

Rolling over, Selima opened her arms and embraced the other woman. Their bodies fit together seemingly without resistance. The tip of Arabella's tongue danced across Selima's naked skin as she kissed her way down her body, and Selima laced her fingers at the back of Arabella's head.

"Oh," she said, whispering in a throaty way, and then again, "oh, oh, oh..." and for a while that one small word was all that she could manage, like a prayer.

Arabella painted Selima's body with sweet, sensual kisses that made her tingle. She felt deflated, but not in a bad way; it was as if all of the pressure pent up inside of her was liberated.

When Arabella's mouth finally closed on one of Selima's breasts and gave it a long, sucking kiss, she pushed up with her whole body, arching her back. When she came back down she almost thudded against the floor, and her fingers scrabbled at the hardwood.

Selima rocked and ached and sighed as Arabella played her body. Wherever their skins touched felt electric. The candles were burning lower now, and the encroaching darkness set things free in her mind.

"Can you make this last forever?" she said, barely murmuring.

"No," was the reply. "But you can."

Slipping her hands down again, Arabella put her fingers between Selima's legs and rubbed her warm, wet pussy. Selima lost all the breath in her body right away. She sat halfway up but Arabella practically pushed her down again.

Now the smell of sweat mingled with the sharp scent of the oils. Arabella kissed her thighs and Selima writhed. Then the kisses crept higher up her legs and flicked the crease where her thigh joined her body.

"More please," she muttered, her head swimming. "Just a little more like that..."

Tangling Arabella's hair in knots with her fingers, Selima put her legs up and dragged the other woman in closer. The flames of the candles blurred together in her eyes as she cried out, until it all looked like a ring of fire surrounding them.

The delicious feeling of Arabella's mouth and tongue on Selima's pussy made her quiver, and soon she was shaking. She grabbed a handful of her own hair with one hand and stuck the other in her mouth to quiet her own screams.

All the while she moved her body up and down like a wave, to grind against Arabella's mouth harder and faster. The wild animal smell of sex filled the apartment, overwhelming the smells of the incense.

"Yes," Arabella said, "That's the offering that Urian likes the most. You are the circle, inside and out."

"I am," Selima said. And now she saw everything clearly for the first time; the blazing circle wasn't really the candlelight, it was her. She was all on fire—no, she was MADE of fire, and the hotter she burned the better.

Taking her place again between Selima's legs, the sound of Arabella's lapping mouth drove her over the edge. Selima's head lolled and her eyes rolled back. When the orgasm finally cam she felt like she was burning away, and for a second she feared that when it was done there'd be nothing left of her.

But of course, if anything she felt replenished after it was over. She and Arabella curled each other's arms around their bodies still, and their movements continued until long after all the lights burnt out. Even in the dark, they still saw each other.

"I don't understand anything that happened here," Selima said eventually.

And, in the dark, Arabella's voice answered, "The old you doesn't understand. The new already know everything she needs to."

***

The first thought that came to Selima's mind when she woke up the next morning was that it hadn't been a dream.

She was back in her own apartment again, without remembering how she got here, and it certainly seemed as if she'd slept here the entire night. But still, she was sure that it had not been a dream.

Rising from the couch, she chewed her fingernail in thought. The black cat lay curled up nearby, but it was not asleep. Its eyes were just barely open, exposing the narrowest, sickle-like sliver of yellow.

Selima wanted to pace, but there still wasn't enough room in her place, so she had to settle for fretting in place. She was hungry too, but there was no food in the house, and she didn't want to go outside; stepping out into the morning sunlight would make her feel exposed.

She supposed she could just go up and talk to Arabella. But talk about what? The words for her question didn't even seem to exist. She'd have to wait until a new language was invented that could say the things she was feeling.

"H E R O D, M I L O N..." she muttered, without realizing it.

A knock on the door made her jump, which made the black cat jump too. She tried looking through the peephole but found that the lens was too clouded to really see anything.

Cracking the door the smallest amount, she looked around the security chain and found two women her age whom she had never seen before, both of them smiling as wide as the day was long.

"Hi! It's us," one of them said.

And then the other, "Can you open up? This is heavy."

To Selima's amazement, one of the two came in carrying a tray with plates and little English muffins and jams and pieces of grapefruit, and tea simmering in a blue china pot, which the new woman immediately took right to the kitchen, blowing right past Selima.

The second woman embraced Selima and, before she could say anything, kissed her on the mouth in greeting.

"We thought you must be hungry, and of course you don't have any food yet," the woman said.

"Maurice will bring some groceries by later tonight," the other woman said from the kitchen. "And Arabella told us to bring down this teapot, because you left yours at her place last night."

"People are always forgetting things with Arabella," the other woman added. "I wonder if she actually owns anything in her apartment at all besides that cat?"

The woman in the kitchen came over to kiss Selima too, and she introduced herself as Patty. The other woman was Tuesday.

Before she could object they began serving her breakfast, and in her famished state Selima wolfed down what they offered before she could even think about it.

"I live in number five," Patty said.

"I'm in number two. Funny right?" said Tuesday. "We're sorry we didn't introduce ourselves yesterday. Arabella likes to welcome new girls to the building herself. She's best at it."

"And since she's been here longest, it's her privilege," Patty added.

They had nowhere to sit except on the floor, but each of them crouched with her legs crossed and it was fine. Patty poured out tea for each of them. The black cat sauntered over and rubbed itself against each girl's leg, and they responded with cries of surprise and coos of delight, both recognizing it and, like Arabella, exclaiming that they thought it was gone forever.

"Poor Angela," said Patty. "We still miss her."

"I hope it doesn't creep you out, having a dead girl's apartment now," Tuesday added, taking delicate bites of an English muffin in between every second word.

Shrugging and sipping her tea, Selima said, "Every apartment is some dead person's if it's been around for long enough."

Both the other women paused, as if this had never occurred to them before and they didn't particularly like the ramifications of it.

Tuesday—who had a high, somewhat girlish voice, and who talked so rapidly that she ran out of breath at the end of most of her sentences—recovered first. "Well I'm glad you're here now. It's never as good when someplace in the building is empty."

"Not that that happens very often," Patty added. "We'd never move out. Everyone loves it here too much."

"Why's that?" said Selima, and this seemed to be funny, as both other women burst into laughter.

The sun outside had not yet crested the top of the building, meaning that Selima's windows and the sidewalk beyond were still dim. Leaning in as if to whisper despite the fact that she didn't lower her voice one bit, Tuesday said, "Arabella told you, right? You know...what you are now?"

Taking the time to shake her head as slowly and deliberately as possible, Selima said, "Not really. She just said something about...coming home? And...something inside of me?"

Nodding, Patty reached out and touched Selima once on the wrist. "What she meant is that you're one of us now.

"A witch."

Selima wasn't sure how to respond—incredulity? Laughter? It felt like a joke...but remembering everything from last night (the memories surfaced all at once, for a second leaving her as breathless as Tuesday), she knew that it was the most serious thing either of them could have said.

The black cat was sitting next to her now, its penetrating eyes counseling caution.

Another knock came at the door, and Patty got up to answer it. It was two strange men, both dressed identically in dark shirts and khakis, and she waved them in. "They're from the moving company," she explained.

"Movers? Everything I have is moved already," she said.

"Not all of your new things," Tuesday said. And with that the strangers began bringing in furniture—lamps, tables, a dresser, odds and ends—that Selima had never seen before, and when there wasn't any room for something one of the men dutifully set about moving the boxes from the previous day out of the way.

Patty and Tuesday, meanwhile, began speedily unpacking Selima's things, and every time she turned around Selima was being asked, "Where does this go?"

"What is all of this?" Selima said.

"We knew you needed a few things, so everybody in the building decided to get you something, and soon between us we had everything," Tuesday said.

"None of us were sure about your style, but if there's anything you don't like we can always send it back," Patty added, in the midst of arranging Selima's pictures on top of the new dresser.

"No, everything's lovely," Selima said, bewildered. "But where did it all come from?"

"You don't have to worry about questions like that," Tuesday said. "And if you need anything else, just ask Arabella. She sees to everything."

"Everything," Patty added. And then, lower, so that the movers didn't hear, "You're one of us—we take care of each other."

"And I don't owe you anything?"

"Sure you do," Patty said. "And next time one of us needs help you'll chip in just like everyone else. Right?"

Somewhere, the black cat purred for the first time.

In a few hours, Selima's move was finished. The movers even took the empty boxes away. The new furniture—or was it antique furniture?—looked casual, comfortable, and spotless. The apartment even seemed brighter now, in spite of the tiny windows.

Patty and Tuesday seemed just as chipper as when they'd started. Selima was wondering if anything slowed them down.

"Oh, and you don't have to worry about that man anymore," Tuesday said before the pair left. "John was his name? Boring name. Anyway, he's taken care of."

Freezing in place, Selima said, "What do you mean?"

"Oh nothing bad," Patty said, touching Selima again with a small, reassuring gesture again. "We just fixed it so that he won't call you or bother you. That's what you wanted, right? It wasn't really worth the trouble of actually dumping him, so it's better if he just goes away?"

It only took a few seconds for Selima to realize that was exactly what she wanted.

"Well, thank you, both of you. I know you're going to say it's nothing, but still. When do I get to meet everyone else?"

"Soon," said Tuesday, her eyes gleaming.

"Tomorrow night," Patty added. "We're having a Sabbat, so that everyone can welcome you. Officially that is."

"What's a...Sabbat?"

Neither woman answered. Instead, they just smiled.

***

Everyone held a candle except for Selima. Arabella handed her something like a long scarf, that felt very light but very thick.

"It's a blindfold," she explained. "Everyone else carries a light, but you go in the shadows."

"It feels like I should take that personally..." Selima said, unrolling the blindfold in her hands. The other ten women stood in a circle, the lights of their candles the only illumination in the room. Selima and Arabella stood in the middle.

Once again she was naked, as was everyone else, but once again it didn't seem to matter. The only person who made any acknowledgement of the general nudity was Tuesday, but even her girlish, mildly self-conscious giggling seemed little different from her usual demeanor.

There was another figure in the room, but it wasn't a woman or a man. It was a statue of some kind, made out of brass or something equally burnished, about four feet tall but seemingly taller because it was on a pedestal. The figure seemed to be mostly human but with horns and wings, and on its face was a knowing look.

This, the others explained, was Urian. The idol was just a ceremonial stand-in for...well, Selima didn't quite understand what for. Only that it was evidently important, and used on special occasions.

Picking up the trailing end of the scarf, Arabella said, "It is personal. It's a place of honor. And everyone here has been part of it herself, when she first arrived."

The other women all nodded, practically in unison.

"Now your time has come," Arabella explained. "But you have to do it yourself; this mantle is something you take on. It's not something I or anyone else can make you do. Nobody else can make you who were meant to be. Do you understand?"

Selima took a while to consider her answer. Finally she said, "No...but that's the point of doing all of this, right? To help me understand better."

She didn't wait for an answer. Folding the piece of fabric over, she tied it securely around her eyes. It was thick enough that she could see nothing at all, except a tiny sliver of yellow light at the very bottom. Then she heard a voice at her ear: Tuesday's. "Besides, it's more fun when you can't see," she said.

And she kissed Selima; not a greeting kiss, but a deep, hard, tongue-penetrating kiss that took her breath away.

After a moment Arabella cleared her throat and, sounding sheepish, Tuesday said, "Oh yeah, sorry: For Mirrors of Glass and Crystal, in Caverns and Deep Places, in Rings and Circlets, in Wax. in Fire, in the Moon, in the Water, in the Hand, B E D S E R, E L I E L E, D I A P I S, S E P P E D, E L I L E R...um, E S D E B?"

There was some laughter at the last part. "Close enough," Arabella said.

As Tuesday slipped away, Selima felt another woman embrace her with a similar kiss. She'd been warned about this, but once again any anxiety she might normally have felt melted away with surprising ease. With her naked body pressed against the other woman's but unable to see, Selima felt a bit like she was floating, with only this other person to hold onto.