Siobhan, The goddess' handmaiden

12. Avoid mirrors

If this is his idea of protecting her, Siobhan doesn't think she wants to be protected. She was always very proud of her red hair, but now she doesn’t recognise herself at all. Her bracelet is tingling and flashing, but she drags her feet. Whatever Ereshkigal has in store for her can bloody wait. She steps over the puppy at the bottom of the stairs. If Nakir thought the Hellhound pup would act as a deterrent, he was mistaken. A fully grown one would be much better. It probably wouldn’t sleep on the job, either.

“What took you so long?” Ereshkigal glares at her.

“Look at me and ask again,” Siobhan scoffs. She’s not in the mood right now.

“Oh? Why is your hair grey?” The goddess asks. It’s amazing how oblivious she can be, Siobhan thinks.

“Nakir. I told you he’d take it out on me,” Siobhan shakes her head. Is the goddess really so self absorbed that she doesn’t notice anything else?

“I need you to stop moping around. Naryshka got the supplies. I expect results by the end of the week,” Ereshkigal continues. It’s all her fault and she’s not acknowledging it. She knew she couldn’t expect remorse from the goddess, but total disregard?

“I’ll be in the laboratory then,” Siobhan nods. What else could she say? She’s not begging the goddess for help. Not begging, period. All that is left is to avoid mirrors. Nobody cares what she looks like, why should she? Since there is no response from Ereshkigal, she makes her way to the lab. Can she lose herself in work? It’s not something she loved or even did regularly before, but she used to watch her mother. It’s not hard to follow instructions. And, apparently, Ereshkigal has no intention of hovering behind her shoulder. That makes her job so much easier.

“What happened to you, pet?” A demoness with bright red skin asks her. The woman is gorgeous, even with contrasting blond hair that reaches her knees.

“And you are?” Siobhan wonders. Is she another of Nakir’s lovers?

“Naryshka. You’re supposed to call me if you need something,” the woman answers: “but please don’t.”

“Fine by me. I was told you got everything on the list?” Siobhan inquires.

“Yeah. I always do. That’s why she sends me and not one of her generals,” Naryshka answers. “I’m a tracker.”

“That sounds useful. Can you track anything or anyone?” Siobhan asks. The demoness is fairly easy to talk to. Almost normal.

“Haven’t failed yet,” Naryshka laughs. “I like you. Maybe I’ll come hang out with you.”

Siobhan only shrugs. She can’t stop her anyway, so why bother? The supplies she ordered are in a neat basket. Small bags and containers are labelled with modern Egyptian. That might be a snag in her plan, because Siobhan doesn’t read it. She can speak it somewhat well thanks to her lightning fast language absorption. Maybe having Naryshka around will be useful? She steps back out to the hallway to see if the demoness is still around. Was that her? Just rounding the corner?

“Naryshka?” Siobhan calls out loud.

“”Hm?” The demoness appears by her side in an instant.

“Magic? Neat trick, by the way,” Siobhan chuckles. “I might need you after all. I can’t read Egyptian.”

“I was told you read hieroglyphics. The goddess is never wrong,” Naryshka asks.

“Modern Egyptian has nothing to do with hieroglyphs. I can speak the language to an extent, but I don't read it. It’s the same with Greek. I learned to speak, but I never learned to read it,” Siobhan explains.

“How many languages do you speak?” Naryshka inquires. Is the demoness genuinely interested in her? That’s a surprise.

“I speak English, Aramaic, French, Italian, Latin, Greek, and Egyptian. Now, I see I should have learned to read Greek and Egyptian, too. Languages were something I had in common with my father,” Siobhan smiles sadly. Just talking about it reminds her that he is long gone. She still misses her father dearly.

“I’ll translate the labels for you,” Naryshka nods. She gets right to it by writing the English names next to the Egyptian tags. “Why is your hair grey?”

“Did you have to go there?” Siobhan grunts. For someone she has never met before, the demoness is fairly easy to talk to. But, can she tell her? Should she?

“Well, it doesn’t go with the rest of you. Your eyebrows and lashes are red. So, why isn’t your hair?” Naryshka elaborates.

“Ereshkigal played a prank on Nakir. And she used me to do it. He can’t take it out on her, so he punished me instead,” Siobhan sighs.

“Oh. It’s not wise to get between those two. Most of the time they act like siblings, and it’s harmless,” Naryshka tells her. “But they can lose sight and others get hurt.”

“I can’t say no to her. She owns me,” Siobhan pulls down her sleeve to show Naryshka her tattoo.

“Oh…” Naryshka cringes. “She marked you? The gods don’t do that on a whim. There must be something special about you. Give me your hand.”

“Why?” Siobhan asks, but Naryshka has already grabbed her hand. She looks at the cut the demoness made, but there is nothing. No pain, no blood, and it heals almost instantly.

“You don’t bleed?” Naryshka gapes at her.

“Well, I’m dead. I don’t eat, drink, or sleep. So why would I bleed?” Siobhan shrugs.

“How did you come to be here?” Naryshka inquires.

“Nakir brought me when I died. Body and soul. Ereshkigal claimed me the moment he woke me up,” Siobhan explains.

“I see. And you’re a witch. That makes you special. I’d say you are one of a kind here in Irkalla. No wonder she claimed you,” Naryshka laughs.

“Will you help me, or hinder me? Ereshkigal expects her lotions and cream by the end of the week,” Siobhan asks. The demoness is great to talk with, but she’s supposed to be working, not talking.

“I have no idea what you’re doing here, but I like you,” Naryshka smiles. “What do you need?”

“I’m playing a guessing game with quantities. The basic rule for creams is that they have to be smooth and about the consistency of almost running, but not. Lotions are more liquid than firm, but we don’t want too much oil, or they won’t seep into the skin,” Siobhan explains. “All I have is the order by which things go in.”

“Who came up with the instructions? It’s like cooking something without knowing how much time and seasoning you need,” Naryshka scowls.

“Cleopatra. I guess she wanted to keep the secrets forever. Or there is one undiscovered scroll somewhere with quantities. I’m thinking, if she did that, there is a great chance that it probably isn’t clearly marked for what the quantities are for,” She answers. The labels are readable for her now, she might as well start working.

“I bet you’re right. So, tell me what to do,” Naryshka nods. “And what are you gonna do with your hair? Can’t you magic it back to red?”

“My magic is not strong enough to override what Nakir did,” Siobhan scoffs. “And I’m not begging the goddess to help me. It’s her fault, anyway.”

“Don’t tell her that. She is always right, even when she’s not,” the demoness shakes her head. “There has to be another way? Ask Nakir to reverse it.”

“He won’t. We are not exactly on speaking terms. Nakir has all the right to hold a grudge against me, or avoid me as he does,” Siobhan sighs. “I’ll just avoid mirrors.”

“Sounds good. Don’t let them see that they got under your skin,” the demoness smiles at her. Siobhan thinks she just made a friend, but only time will tell if it’s true or not. There might as well be something the woman wants. Or she may be spying on her for Ereshkigal. The options are mixed, but she’ll go into this with an open mind.