Hey, it’s been a while since I posted anything. School and stuff. I’ll be posting things more often from now on.
This was a little short story that I woke up with this morning. Not really anything important, barely reaches 1500 words, but it’s here. It’s the first story I’ve done in modern times. Don’t think I’m going anywhere with this one, but it might be an interesting time killer, maybe? Anyways, enjoy.
Diana James was lounging in bed, enjoying the pleasant drowsiness that comes after good sex. She was smiling with her eyes barely open at Jack Atkins, her boyfriend of five years, as he came out of the bathroom of her Brooklyn apartment.
For some reason, he had gotten dressed. Diana found this odd, as he was usually more worn out than her after three times in a row. She giggled as that thought crossed her mind, more than happy that she’d gotten such a stud.
Hearing her giggle, Jack turned, not having realized that Diana was awake. “Sorry, did I wake you?”
“No. Never went to sleep.” Diana replied. “Got somewhere to be? Either it’s important, or I’m losing my touch, leaving you conscious after all that,” she joked, propping herself up on her elbow and smiling at him. Her short, brunette hair framing her pale face, green eyes full of laughter.
In contrast, Jack grimaced. Then, looking like he was steeling himself for an unpleasant conversation, he said, “I was going to wait until later, but I guess now’s a good time. Diana, we need to talk.”
Concern appeared on Diana’s face as she sat up. “Sure, what’s wrong, babe?”
“I think we need to break up.”
“Get me the orcish stuff from Jötunnheimr, Brutus.” Diana sighed as she sat on the stool across the bar from the Roman werewolf.
She was in a bar called The Serene Moon, a werewolf owned and run bar that catered exclusively to the underground supernatural community of Manhattan and the surrounding boroughs. It served as a neutral ground, as well as a waypoint for World Walkers, those who make a living traveling between the planes. At The Serene Moon, you could see angels, demons, and nephilim playing poker with one another, rakshasha drinking with fey, and races who can’t perform glamours very well buying amulets to disguise themselves as humans, such as orcs.
The reason Brutus Camilius hesitated became apparent when he looked meaningfully at the clock on the wall that read 10 in the morning. Glancing at the clock, Diana looked back at the old werewolf. “What’s your point?” She asked, raising an eyebrow to mirror the bar owner’s own eyebrow.
“His point, is that it might be too early for something that strong,” Levana, Brutus’ wife, said. “What’s wrong? I thought you were going to be spending the day with that boyfriend of yours?” Levana asked, leaning against her side of the bar.
She and Brutus couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than Mediterraneans. Everything from their complexion to their accents were what was to be expected of Nepalese natives. Although few mortals would guess that they were specifically from Roman Napals, a few decades before the “Carpenter’s” birth, as the Mediterranean natives older than 2000 years called Jesus Christ.
Diana sighed, “That was the plan, yes. But he dumped me last night, so, here I am. Now booze me, or I’ll go somewhere where the owners don’t care what happens to me.”
“Alright, alright. Honestly, you’re 25, you should know better than to drink surrounded by strangers.” Brutus complained, reaching to the tap for the orcish beer Diana was asking for. “Why’d he break up with you? Is it because he found out you sold your soul to a cat goddess for arcane power and immortality?”
Diana shot him a sour look. “I didn’t sell my soul. Anyways, I always wondered, is it because Bast is a cat, or she’s Egyptian? Which cliche is the reason that you say stuff like that, old mutt?”
“Enough you two, before I put a muzzle on you both,” Levana interrupted. “Now why did he break up with you?”
Sighing, Diana glanced down. “It wasn’t because he found out I’m a witch, but it probably does stem from it. He wondered if I really loved him.”
Both werewolves were shocked at that. “Why in Tartarus would that even be a question?” Brutus asked, with a slight growl at the edge of his voice.
Shrugging, Diana took a sip of her beer. “He felt that my lack of jealousy meant that I didn’t actually love him.”
Seeing the confusion on her friends’ faces, she elaborated. “I had told him from the beginning that I wouldn’t be jealous. That it was impossible for me, so he didn’t need to worry about me jumping to conclusions if I saw him talking to other women, or he could go to a strip club with his friends, so long as I knew he loved me.”
“And what does that have to do with you being a witch? I’d think a man would love to not have to deal with a raging bitch stewing in jealousy,” Levana asked, still not understanding.
“Me being a witch is why I can’t feel jealousy,” Diana said. “I didn’t sell Bast my soul, I sold her my ability to feel jealousy.”
The werewolves were surprised, to say the least. “You did what?” They asked in unison, before Levana muttered, “I didn’t know that was possible.”
“Oh, it’s possible. I specifically asked Bast if it was.” Diana confirmed.
“Why would you sell her something like that?” Brutus asked. The couple wasn’t necessarily appalled by this, they’d seen much worse things than this, but it was so unexpected that they were still shocked. As far as they were aware, nobody had ever bought power from a divine being by selling the ability to feel a certain emotion.
Diana shrugged again as she took another sip. “What have I told you about how I met Bast, and struck a deal with her?”
“Just that you found a necklace connected to her on your tenth birthday, and by accidentally praying to her with it, she saved you from the fire that killed your parents and aunt.” Levana answered.
Nodding, Diana said, “That fire was caused by my mother.”
“Dad and Aunt Janice were always extremely close. To the point that a lot of people thought that they were or had been sleeping with one another.” Diana saw the look on Levana and Brutus’ faces. “They never had, I asked because my friends were saying that was what they heard their parents think, and their response was to laugh and say no. They had just been raised to be that close.
“Mom, on the other hand, didn’t think so. She kept it hidden from them, but I noticed the jealousy that was eating away at her, until she finally snapped. She stabbed Aunt Janice to death, and then laughed about how we were going to be together as a family forever when me and dad walked into the room. At that point, she started a fire using the gas oven and stove and gasoline she prepared. It killed her and Dad immediately, and nearly got me too.
“When Bast arrived, she offered me power and immortality in exchange for service and something of my choosing. I asked if I could give her my jealousy, and she agreed.”
As Diana finished her story, Brutus and Levana looked at one another. Brutus finally spoke up, “I’m sorry, but why did you offer your jealousy?”
“To my 10 year old mind, my mother’s irrational jealousy was the sole cause of the death of my family. Even to this day, I hate her. If I could, I’d use necromancy to bring her back so I could torture her for a decade or two. At the time, I felt that the source of all my pain was jealousy, and that if I felt jealousy, I’d just personally bring pain into my life with my own hands. I still feel that it was a good decision, considering that I was a 10 year old girl.”
Levana said, “Diana, dear, you do realize that your mother was an extreme case, yes?”
“Yeah, I know. But I also know that the main source of unhappiness in relationships is jealousy. Can you two honestly tell me anything good that jealousy gives?”
Brutus said, “Getting jealous when someone has more money than you, so you work harder to get more.”
Levana sighed, and Diana gave him a flat stare. “Wanting to make life easier for oneself should supply that desire, and it doesn’t come with the risk of deciding to steal from others for irrational reasons,” the young human said.
“People don’t question your feelings when you react to things the way others would.” Levana said, causing Diana to flinch.
“So I need to act like a jealous bitch to prove that I love someone?” Diana glared at the older woman.
“No, but people don’t understand things that don’t act the way they expect, and that leads to fearing and shunning them. There’s a reason why mortals fear sociopaths, even though a very small portion of their people who are true socipaths are a danger to others.”
“Why do I need to make myself unhappy to prove that I love someone? If it’s like that, then I’m better off not trying.” Diana muttered this to herself.
Levana reached across the bar. “You’re getting too much in a rush. You’ll find someone. You’re immortal, you have all the time you could want.”
Diana returned the gentle smile. “Thanks. I’m still getting drunk, though.” Her smile turned into a smirk as she finished her beer and looked at Brutus expectantly.
The two werewolves rolled their eyes, Brutus pulled up another pint from the tap, while Levana went to get Diana something to eat. The two had small smiles on their faces as they prepared for a day of babysitting their young friend.