[New Voices] Harpy by S. H. Marpel
Our mystery writer finds himself tied up in a dank dungeon room, waiting to meet his next client: A misunderstood mythological woman with deadly powers who wants only one thing...
I
I’D BEEN WAITING FOR him a very long time. And run out of patience at last. So I just reached out and pulled him to me across time and space.
Just so I could end his life. Painfully. Violently.
He deserved that. But he also deserved to listen to my reasoning. It was perfect, beautiful, elegant - and someone needed to appreciate its perfection. Its beauty. Its elegance.
Not like he had anything else better to do, or anywhere else to go. His days were all but over, only hours left at best. Another feeble man. I only needed his ears.
II
“JOHN, YOU CAN CALL me Harpy.” The voice woke me.
I was tightly bound to a support column in some old, dank and stone-lined room. Where exactly, I didn’t know. I had on my dungarees, work boots, red cotton t-shirt under my canvas jacket. Like I’d just been air-lifted from the pasture on my farm.
Facing me was a woman with wings. A gorgeous woman with strong, beautiful wings.
And her voice was like poured honey over buttered toast on a hot day. Smooth, lustrous, golden.
I’d rather call her siren. Especially when I looked into her eyes. Vibrant green, like the glowing color of fireflies. But steady, piercing.
Harpy stepped closer to me and I could see more detail in her thin, nearly sheer top. It seemed like a dancing leotard. Her long legs took her closer to me in graceful barefoot paces. A tail of cloth-like drape, like the sweep of tail feathers behind, barely grazed the floor and raised small puffs of dust as she strode toward me.
“Why Harpy, why not Siren? With a face and eyes like that, you can have any lover you want.” I said.
“Oh, and I have. They all loved me and went to their death for me. Too human. Short lifespans, inflated egos, puppy-dog eyes and utter devotion.” The Harpy sighed.
“Why do you call yourself ‘Harpy’,” I asked. “The usual pictures are of an ugly monster with really only a woman’s face, the rest are parts of animals.”
Harpy sighed. “Probably the same reason vampires and other creatures have such bad reputations. You can see my wings and yes I have claws.” She held up two fingers from one hand where long talons suddenly extended from her fingertips, then retracted as quickly. “But that is no different than cats, really. Practically, I can even hide my wings and walk among humans, the same as I’ve done for centuries. I’ve passed royalty and commoner alike and no one has known except when I wanted them to.” She sighed again and looked off into space.
“May I ask why you brought me here and why I am tied up so tight?” I asked.
“Because I want you to tell my side of the story. And if I seduce you, then you will be all puppy-dog again. The last time I tried that with a human male author, the result was a an endless stream of maudlin love-poems. Bram Stoker at least put some drama into his stories about vampires. That cousin of yours writes about shape-shifting wolves who have a sense of family, honor, and self-preservation, far better than the few humans who exist near them.” Harpy replied.
“You just want your side of the story written. You want humans to appreciate you more. Or is there a species of your kind, that we might meet another?” I asked.
Harpy rolled her eyes. “So many questions. But yes, there are more than one of me. No, we don’t particularly want humans to love or adore us. We don’t want a bunch of stupid goth-groupies looking for us and making our lives difficult. I - or we - just want our story told somewhat accurately. As you pointed out, when you have a body like this,” she touched the side of her chest and slid her hand down that side to her bare thigh. “You don’t like the old stories of being having a woman’s face, a condor’s wings, and a lion’s body. Those 'authors' add in screeching like a banshee, horrid smell, and all that.” Harpy turned to look out one of the few tall, deep window openings into the dungeon, which had started to show as the sun rose.
“I think I see what you want, now. You want to tell me your real story, and I’m free to dress it up into something more dramatic, more popular. Like the Grimm brothers.” I said.
Turning back, she looked at me directly with those piercing green eyes again, smiling with white and perfect teeth. “But they didn’t finish the job. It took Disney and a couple hundred years before their fairy tales could be anything less than gruesome. That was exactly the point of Stoker. He took really horrid descriptions and turned them into a mysterious count with ‘eccentric’ behaviors.” She continued her slow, stately walk toward me.
“I do have a problem with this, though,” I said. “These two spirit guides tend to know what I’m doing at all times and can drop in unexpectedly.”
“Don’t worry about your cute little Sal and Jude. They are sleeping away and think you are sleeping, too. And your feeble little librarians are the same way. I made sure to put everyone to sleep before I brought you here.”
Now close enough to reach out and touch me, her arm started to bring her hand to my chin, when she suddenly froze. She turned her face to look off into space again. Her wistful smile vanished and her brow wrinkled into a frown.
“It looks like our quality time for today is over. You’ll see me again, soon. Be warned, though. I won’t be trifled with.” Harpy extended her wings to their full width and swept them up and back. A sudden thrust and gust of air took her into the dark recesses above.
And I was alone, tied to this column. Somewhere unknown.
III
ALMOST INSTANTLY, I was phased in to the Ghost Hunter library. Long couch behind me, Sal to one side in her typical off-white business suit with gold pin-striping. Jude to the other side in black jeans, black knit top and bolero jacket.
The long rows of tall shelves stretching off in all directions from the central area had never felt more like home. Ben and Granger each stood in front of one of the two armchairs opposite us, the solid wood coffee table running in between.
Concerned looks from all present greeted me.
Sal grabbed my wrist to feel my pulse. Jude put her hand on my forehead to feel for fever.
I was fine, as they soon found out, and still dressed for literal field work.
“To answer your unasked question - I don’t know where I just was. She said all of you were ‘sleeping’ and so couldn’t track me.” I said. “The ‘she’ in this case was a winged human-type who called herself ‘Harpy’. Very definitely not a ghost.”
Ben looked at Granger. They both turned and glided out into the stacks in opposite directions. Both still concerned, but seeing that I was all right seemed to soften those looks.
Sal asked, “What do you recall of where you were?” She motioned to the Arts-and-Crafts-style couch and we all sat down on it’s dark leather cushions.
“I was in some typical gloomy dungeon, tied securely to a massive column. No clue where. It had tall windows that were just starting to lighten when I left. Before that, I had been sleeping in my bunk, or thought I had. How I got dressed for walking pastures is another guess entirely,” I said
As if on cue, Granger showed up with a mounded plate of sausage-and-egg breakfast biscuits, and a carafe of hot coffee as well as a pitcher of milk. Sturdy china cups, small china plates, napkins, and stainless forks rounded out her load. The stainless platter she carried this all on was almost half as wide as Granger was tall. Since Granger's head only came up to my elbow, it was a reminder to never get into an arm-wrestling competition with her.
Sitting the platter down on the otherwise empty coffee-table, she quickly left, after again smiling wistfully at me.
At least Granger seemed back to normal. Sal and Jude both still wore worried looks. So I did what I could to set them at ease. Setting out a biscuit for each of them, I heaped three on my own plate and then poured a cup of coffee for myself. Digging in to eat was welcome to my own stomach and seemed to relax them as well. They couldn’t talk to me while I was wolfing food, and there is a reason that certain dishes are called “comfort food.” So they nibbled at their own biscuits, sipping at their coffee or milk until I was done.
Once our plates were all clean, and we were sitting back on the couch, Sal was about to ask her first question when Ben showed up with a stack of books and a file-binder of papers.
Ben spoke as he sat his load on Sal’s end of the coffee-table. “No, she isn’t a ghost. While we don’t have a specific record of her as a harpy or called ‘Harpy’, we don’t necessarily have all the creatures cataloged that have ever entered this particular area of the multi-verses. I’ve brought a selection of texts that cover mostly what you described. There is more we’ll be bringing shortly.” He turned and glided away.
Just on his exit, Granger returned. She was barely peeking over a tall stack that she unloaded on Jude’s end of the table. Pulling the platter toward her, Granger divided the remaining breakfast biscuits onto our small plates in roughly the same proportion I had earlier. She then quickly left with that platter and empty serving plate, leaving the pitchers and our cutlery behind.
Jude dug in for more, while Sal fixed me with one of her looks so I didn’t dare stuff my mouth in order to avoid talking.
“How was she dressed, what other details can you tell us?” Sal asked, daintily nibbling on her own biscuit.
“She was wearing something like a dance leotard. Black and thin. A modest neckline straight across her neck,and then came down across her hips like a dancer, leaving her legs exposed. I didn’t get a look at the back of it, but it was evidently open for her wings and perhaps a tail, although that last might have been for theatrical use, as it seemed more of cloth than feathers like her wings. Her hair was coal black and unadorned, straight-cut with longish bangs in front, pulled back into a ponytail behind. Makeup seemed simple, black lips, eyes, and brows. If there was liner used, it hardly showed. More natural than not.
“What was more interesting to me was her extensible claws and wings. The claws looked like long fingernails until she extended them, her wings seemed small and almost decorative, until I saw her extend them to full size to fly away with one sweep into the overhead darkness.”
Sal was quiet at this. She pulled Ben's binder of papers toward her and stared reading.
Jude finished off her last biscuit and wiped her mouth and chin with a napkin. “Did you sense any magic or other talents?”
“Other than suddenly appearing in that chamber when I woke up and tied to a stone column with no memory of getting there, no.” I answered.
Sal spoke up, “Ben's got some lists of similar-type human-based entities, and other truly monstrous non-humans that were called ‘harpies.’ But most of these haven’t existed in this plane since before Jude and I got here. They are cross-referenced in the books he brought.” Sal laid out the papers on the center of the coffee-table while Jude and I moved the plates and other dishes away to make room.
We crowded in to read from the lists, and soon each had selected a book or two of our own to study. Soon we were all quietly reading, other than the sounds of our occasional munching and sipping.
Ben and Granger both returned with more stacks of books that matched other items on those lists. Granger left with the spent napkins, dishes, and cups, while Ben sat down in one of the arm chairs, fingers tented, a concerned on his face as he stared into his hands.
As Ben had never sat with us before, I stopped reading and laened back against the couch cushion, waiting for him to assemble his thoughts. Jude and Sal both noticed my attention on Ben and similarly sat back and waited, their fingers holding reading spots as I had.
Ben at last spoke. “This hasn’t happened for a very long time. To come up with blanks in all the large catalogs of data we’ve been assembling since before common records started in this area of the multi-verses.”
That statement of itself I noted, but would have to leave for another time.
Ben continued, “While you have all the data we have been able to find in our archives, I’ve sent word out to other archives for anything matching your descriptions. Unfortunately, a lot of this won’t begin arriving until much later, as the requested data is also drawing blanks in many of them. I am here to listen to the rest of your experience, so I can relay any pertinent data to the other archivists.” With that he sat back, calm and comfortable in his own dark robes and pants, dark socks under his dark leather roman sandals. All as if he was used to waiting for time to pass before it revealed the answers he sought.
I related Harpy’s talk with me, as close to word-for-word as I could. Jude and Sal both asked me details about the room and Harpy’s gestures, even down to the type of rope that bound me. While I was proud of my observation-skills as a writer, that grilling made me feel I had much more to learn about gathering details from a crime scene.
At last, I seemed to have answered all their questions, and the room was quiet again. Each of us were lost in thought.
Ben suddenly stood. “Some packages have arrived. I must tend to them. Please do continue your studies. These books will help you understand more about this curious scene. Meanwhile, we also have another assignment from the List.
That mention of a list again brought other questions to mind, but we had our reading to do, so I went back to the book I had my finger in. Sal and Jude had already started before me.
Granger appeared after a short while, bringing another shorter book stack, and also a worried look on her face. She placed the books onto the coffee table and stood there. I looked up into her eyes and smiled at her broadly. At that, her worry frown went away and her eyes took on their usual dreamy aspect when I was around.
Ben showed up at that point with one of the packages and nudged her slightly. Granger then frowned at his interruption of her favorite pastime. She cleared off anything still remaining of the meal and glided away with one last dreamy look in my direction.
Ben had already unwrapped it, but the books were tied together so firmly it took some sort of spell to untie. After a few gestures on his part, he finally got the right combination for the strings to loosen.
When he opened the top book, he closed it immediately. The two other books were rapidly opened and shut as quickly. Lifting the whole stack, as well as the magicked string, he said with disappointment, “These will have to be translated. Sal and Jude could make out most of it, but they would miss the nuances. I’m afraid this study goes deeper than any quick resolution.” With that, he nodded and glided back into the stacks, toward parts unknown.
We finished off the rest of the books, and saw that he was right. Harpy met none of the descriptions in our own written history of this planet, any of its legends or fairy tales. Close enough that some of the physical attributes would match, but this one left no foul odor - just a request to be heard. That I was “snatched” from my sleep and tied up may well have been for my own protection from her “siren” attributes.
It would all have to wait for another day, for more information to arrive. Especially as Granger showed up at that point with a thin folder that had a red and gold tape slashed across its corner. She handed it to Sal, then glanced wistfully at me for awhile as Granger gathered up one of the spent stacks of books and trundled back somewhere in the endless stacks.
Sal opened and read the contents quickly.
“Here’s our next assignment.”
IV
ARRIVING AT A TYPICALLY gloomy and ruined castle would have been appropriate. We could actually see one lurking on the heights above this plain. But our target was a set of half-buried stones, much like some ancient burial or sacrificial rite.
The plains surrounding had been used by goat and sheep herders for countless centuries. And no real history had ever been recorded as happening in this spot, except a few lost tourists who disappeared in the nearby marshes, and a few local criminals who did likewise. In both cases it was thought that they were mostly likely trying to find some shelter in the trees, became lost, and their remains claimed by the soft marsh ground.
Except for the single note of three witches that appear at certain intervals in this spot.
Tied to sightings of summer lightning and winter snow-thunder, the probable appearances met with some cyclical recurrences.
Enough to bring us here on this night, in the middle of nowhere. Surrounded by old weather-worn rocks, short-cropped grass, and sheep dung.
“The trick is that we have a very short time-window, and there are three distinct specters we must help,” Sal reminded us. “All we know of their powers may be in lightning or thunder-related effects.”
“My concern is the time we have to deal with them. We may not even see them in time to make contact, let alone help them sort out their scene,” I said.
Jude held up a small cat-carrier. “This is why we brought Hermione.” Jude sat the carrier down and opened the door. The red tabby occupant, strode out and took in the sights. “One of Hermione's many talents is finding lost people. She’ll alert us to the witches’ presence.”
I’d met that red tabby cat when first arriving to the Library. She was the first to great me. And I hadn’t seen her since.
The red tabby came straight over to me and rubbed up against my leg. I reached down to pet her and she stood on her hind legs, giving me an idea she wanted to be picked up. So I obliged.
Sal and Jude looked at each other with a smile.
Hermione purred her approval loudly. But her weight soon increased on my arm such that I had to take both arms to hold her. She turned on her back to look into my eyes with a cunning innocence. For a brief moment, I thought I was holding a furry human female in my arms, one who was smiling up at me with all the wiles of a huntress. The next moment, the cat was back to normal size, and twisted to jump out of my arms onto the ground. On landing, she immediately ran off behind the boulders.
My arms flew up at the suddenly absent weight. Sal and Jude were trying to keep from laughing. “What?” I asked.
“One of the different properties she has is her reaction to human males,” Jude said. “She’s a shifter, but mostly just for men who want to hold her, apparently.”
“Will she be OK out there?” I asked.
“She doesn’t like the cat carrier much, but likes to hunt. Generally, I make a sound like a mouse and she comes right back,” Sal said.
“Does that fool her?” I asked.
“No, she’s probably wiser - and older - than all of us put together. But she knows what a lousy imitation of a mouse call I make, and comes running. It’s something to do with the beef steaks Ben feeds her,” Sal replied.
“You’re going to tell me she eats on a steak.” I said.
“No, I’m going to tell you she eats multiple steaks a day. That vision you saw is only one of the forms she can shift into. Most are much heavier and consume a higher calorie diet. You should see her litter-box. Huge.” Sal smiled sweetly as she told me all this.
“Nice to know. Thanks.” I said.
“The other thing to know is to not let her climb up on your chest while you are sleeping, particularly when she’s in heat,” Jude added. “It’s logical when you think it through. Thankfully, only males are affected by this. And that you have an off-base cabin to sleep in.”
I had another reason to thank my lucky stars.
Suddenly, Hermione was hissing, and the girls sprinted off to that location. I followed as best I could among the rocks, brush, and falling darkness.
V
OF COURSE, JUDE AND Sal got there before me. Spirit guides can out run any human. Because if they need to, they don’t need to breathe to fuel their muscles, and beyond that, they can phase about anywhere they want.
But today, they were being polite to me and also they knew I was being watched by someone, so they needed to keep me on their close-proximity radar.
As I arrived, out of breath, the three witches were present and Hermione, now as large as a full-grown tiger, had them at bay against a sunken bolder. If they moved left, the cat was on that side. If they tried to move right, she was again in front of them. Instantly.
Then they tried to split up - just to see a duplicate cat on both sides.
About that point, they started to wave their hands and lightning formed above them to form a split strike aimed at the two Hermione's - only to bounce off a spherical shield and come back at them.
Sal and Jude had already made their motion. The witches were completely trapped.
When they joined hands and tried to disappear, they then froze in that position.
Hermione, single again, was glaring at them, herself nearly a static figure except for the twitching tip of her tail.
“We didn’t have a chance to tell you some of her other skills.” Sal said, relaxing from her effort of keeping the force field in place.
“Time shifter is one.” Jude added, rubbing her neck with her hand to take the tenseness out of it. “She’s got them held there for now.”
“How am I supposed to talk to them?” I asked.
“One at a time, John.” Hermione was talking in my mind.
At that, one of the three regained her motion. Seeing her chance, she tried to put a spell on the red tabby in front of her, but then saw Sal walking forward shaking her finger at the witch.
“You don’t want to do that,” Sal said with a smile. “You’re lucky we only want to talk with you. Does the term ‘ashes to ashes, dust to dust’ ring a bell?”
Jude walked forward on the other side, less visible in her black outfit due to the growing dark. Her white hands were circling each other with a tiny electrical fireball in between, making it clear that she could unleash an instant frying zap at will.
The witch dropped her arms. “OK, what is it that you want?”
My cue.
“We only wanted to ask you why you come here.” I asked.
“Ours is to fulfill the destiny we’ve been given,” the witch replied.
“May I ask who gave you this destiny?”
“She calls herself Harpy.”
Sal and I looked at each other. Jude kept her eyes on the witch, but frowned.
“You’ve heard of her?” asked the witch.
“Yes, and what can you tell us about her?” I asked.
“Only that she saved us from dying and told us to visit this spot on a certain schedule and recite our spells exactly on that moment.” The witch suddenly went paler when she realized what was happening. “No, you’ve put us off schedule, we’re...”
I asked, “You’re what?”
But saw her face was frozen, as was everyone else. Sal, Jude, Hermione, and the witches were all static, frozen.
I was the only one who could move.
VI
“JOHN. TSK-TSK. YOU really shouldn’t interfere in my work this way.” That was a golden voice I recognized.
Harpy was standing on top of that boulder, her wings relaxed and a soft breeze moving her bangs and tail softly. Again, a sight for sore eyes, and I could feel the siren call in my chest cause it to ache in desire.
“Other than our circumstances, I do feel good to see you again.” I answered.
“Of course you do, that is my curse on you humans. Especially when our paths cross.” Harpy said.
“How are we supposed to know what is your work?” I asked.
She brought a hand up to her face and flicked a long claw out, then used it to gently move her bangs away from her eyes. Now I could see those greenish firefly eyes bore into me again.
“Good question, John. Maybe you never will,” she answered. “Perhaps you will always be too late.”
I found myself rooted to the spot, wanting to come closer to her but unable to free my feet.
“Quit struggling, John. You’ll just hamstring yourself. Here...” My feet were freed, but he ache in my chest was also gone. I had no desire to reach her now. “Does that feel more normal now?”
“Yes. Thanks.” I said.
Something softened in her face at that. Like no one had been nice to her or respected her for ages.
Hermoine whispered in my mind. “I can get her now. Just say when...”
I sent back, “No, wait. She needs us more than anything else.”
“You’re right, John. But your spirit-guides don’t feel the same way. So I’ll have to leave it at that for now,” Harpy smiled at me. “We will talk again. Soon.”
And vanished.
VII
THE WITCHES NOW HAD puzzled expressions on their faces. Quickly, Sal and Jude put them back inside a forcefield. Meanwhile, Hermione appeared on top of the rock in that same instant, turning and twisting to find any trace of Harpy. Finally, she looked up at me. The puzzled frown turned calm. And then she appeared besides me as a regular cat again, rubbing up against my leg. So, yes, I bent down and petted her briefly.
I then straightened and turned to the witches. “How old are you?” I asked.
The tallest of the three seemed to take offense, “Is that what you ask all your women? A bit rude don’t you think?”
“My apologies. You are right. Introductions are in order,” I replied. My name is John, this is Sal, and that is Jude. Our cat is named Hermione. And you are?”
“My name is Beth,” said the tallest. “This is Sue and my other sister is Dawn.”
“Thank you, Beth,” I replied. “We are here to help you tonight. Can you tell us how long you’ve been appearing here?”
“Probably three hundred of your years by now. But to us, it has been just moments ago that we started.” Beth said.
“What happened just before you started? If you could tell me, that would help us help you.” I said.
“We were chained to iron posts on the top of somewhere called Lightning Mountain. Each of us had been condemned for practicing witchcraft. The villagers were far below us while the storms formed overhead. We had already been there since the night before. If it weren’t for the chains binding us we would have collapsed from our numb arms and legs.
“We heard the rumbling and saw the lightning jump between the clouds nearby, the wind rose and the sky darkened.
“But suddenly a figure with huge wings flew down and landed before us. At that moment, the wind quit, the clouds stood still, and even the leaves were stopped in mid-air along with the dust.
“She told us her name was Harpy, and gave us a chance to escape. If we simply wanted to die, then she would leave. Or she could get us out of those chains and we could work for her.
“Of course, we didn’t take much persuading.”
Her sisters nodded with her, but kept quiet.
“The next instant, we were in the sky, standing in mid air like it was solid. We saw the lighting strike the three bodies chained to those stakes over and over, until there was hardly anything left except shattered bones and ash.”
Beth looked at each of her two sisters, and then back at me.
I answered her question, “It looks like you’ve been ghosts this entire time, that you died on that mountain.”
Beth nodded. Her sisters Sue and Dawn looked off to the side with a light on their faces. “You know, we weren’t really witches. We just never married and had better crops than these other people. Because our parents had taught us how the soil and plants work together. When the others were suffering from a drought, our garden was at least surviving. So we got blamed for their stupidity. Even when we tried to help them and tell them this was coming. But one day I got upset and told them all off. Like the old phrase, you just can’t fix stupid.”
At this a light shined on her own face and she took the hands of her two silent sisters. They all looked into that light and vanished.
VIII
SAL, JUDE, AND I WERE walking up to my little cabin. Hermione was running ahead to check the vole and mice runs around the barn. As well, there were some spayed cats who normally had the run of the place, along with my dog, Bertie. I was sure they’d all get along well. Well, except the mice and voles.
We three human forms had not a lot to say as we waled, each deep in our own thoughts.
When we reached the cabin, I turned to my spirit-guides. “Well, I guess I have a story to write and you have to tell Ben all about it.”
“Not so fast, mister.” Jude said, moving up on one side to grab an arm.
Sal came up to grab the other arm. “After all, you haven’t told us about Harpy and what she said. Sal's nudge got us all walking toward the cabin porch.
“I thought you’d heard it all.” I said.
“No, we were completely out of the loop while it happened. When time unfroze, she was gone and the three sisters were simply ghosts again.” Sal said.
“So their powers came from Harpy?” I asked.
“That we can’t be sure of. They might actually have tapped into some natural witchcraft that gardeners and some farmers use. It’s called 'having a green thumb'.” Jude said. “At any rate, Harpy enabled them to focus those powers, for whatever reason she had.”
We’d reached the porch at that point, with it’s two chairs. “Coffee or chocolate?” Jude asked.
“Both.” Sal and I said at once.
Jude shifted inside without using the door and soon came back outside, using a soft kick to move the screen door out of her way. It then stayed there, on pause. I took my mug of café-mocha and Sal took hers. Jude gestured toward the two chairs, then again so that my folding chair came out to lean against her while a third mug showed up in her own hand.
The screen door softly closed on its own at that point (without its usual “bang”.) Jude then had the chair open itself so she could sit on it, between us Sal and I. Jude crossed her legs and leaned on them toward me, mug in hand, waiting, expectant.
Sal sipped her own mug while I appreciated the whip-o-wills and bob-whites starting their twilight songs, the cicadas chirping and the thick cumulus preparing to kiss the sun for the last time that day. It was good to be home again. With two good friends.
Hermione suddenly appeared from no where and rubbed up against my leg. So I petted her for a while, but declined any invitation to take her onto my lap.
Make that three good friends.
“So? Tell us all about it.” Sal said.
I told them our conversation pretty much word for word, along with the physical reactions I had gone through.
“It’s just curious to me why she would let up that spell when she could make you do anything she wanted.” Jude thought out loud.
“I wonder if she wasn’t wanting something from you that she couldn’t get by force of spells or threats.” Sal added.
“When she first had me in wherever that dungeon was, it was supposed to be just a couple of hours and then I’d be dead. But then she seemed to open up and start to tell me her story.” I said.
“She may have wanted something else from you, and your natural talent at understanding may have softened something in her, or brought something out that she’d never realized she really needed.” Sal mused.
“Or it might have been because she adored that cute mug of yours.” Jude smiled at her own joke as she sipped more of her café-mocha.
“Well, that could be, but let’s try to keep both your personal preferences for me out of this for now.” I retorted.
Jude winked at me, but Sal blushed - using her coffee mug to hopefully cover it.
“Sal’s point is more like it. All I’ve seen of ghosts and monsters” - Hermione rubbed my leg again, just then, and I petted her head as her eyes closed in appreciation - “and other beings, is that they all have a common spiritual nature. For lack of a better word, “humanity” that they are wanting. It’s more wanting appreciation for the individual beings that they are, recognition for that inherent rightness. Not approval so much as a simple acknowledgement.” And I sipped again from my mug.
We were all silent for awhile.
Jude finally broke it. “Well, Sal, I think it’s your turn to take the first watch.”
Sal grimaced, recounted in her head, and nodded. “OK, you’re right this time.”
Jude stood up, the chair folded itself upright to lean against her, and the screen door silently opened across where she once sat.
“Well, I’ll clean these up (the mugs disappeared from our hands) and then it’s bedtime. Coming, John?” She smiled as if she was planning something.
Sal just shook her head and smiled.
Jude entered and I followed. Sal remained outside.
I started to protest. “Jude, I...” And Jude just put her finger on my lips. With her other hand, she gestured and a made up bunk bed appeared, anchored firmly to the upper wall and ceiling. A ladder rose at one end.
“The top bunk is for me. You sleep as usual. So you get maximal ‘cuteness’ rest” Jude gestured and was dressed now in an all-black, loose cotton sweat suit. Her feet wore small black socklets, leaving her white ankles bare. “Yes, I do look fetching. But tight spandex doesn’t breath.”
Another of her gestures and I was in my gray sweatpants with three pockets and open-ended legs, as well as a red pocket t-shirt.
Jude sighed at this. “Well, we must be modest with Sal at the front door and Hermione nearby.”
“Is all this really necessary?” I asked.
“Yes, I have to have a separate bunk because I might forget who I was with and start making passionate love to you. And my idea of passionate can get really loud.” She winked at me and then shifted herself into the bunk above. Leaning over the edge, she continued, “The real point is that between the three of us, we should be able to keep track of you if Harpy comes to talk with you again. Maybe even deter her a little bit. Nightie-night.”
As that, she ducked her head back into her bunk and I could hear her roll onto her side. Then the room went dark as the lights went out. And I felt my way into my own bunk, crawled between the sheets and under the comforter. Soon I was asleep on my own.
Outside, Sal sat in her chair wide awake and listening to every noise, inside and outside the small cabin.
Hermione was curled in front of the screen door, cat-napping, but vigilant.
Above, on the peak of the barn roof, was a large form. Anyone unfamiliar with it would only assume it was a buzzard. A very large buzzard.
IX
IN THE MIDDLE OF THE night, I got an urge to go outside. To me it wasn’t anything unnatural. When you have to go, you have to go.
So I quietly put on my gum boots over my bare feet and stuffed my sweatpants into their tops. I opened the screen door quietly. Sal was dosing in her chair and Hermione was curled up in the other. Stepping carefully over Sal’s feet, I made my way out to the trees at the edge of the yard.
As I got there, Harpy stepped out from one of the big oaks in the old fence row, giving me a start. But I could not say anything, even though my mouth and tongue were trying to.
Harpy just smiled at this, and gestured at me to follow her.
And in the moonlit night, the clouds had dissipated and the stars above twinkled and planets shone. I could see her magnificent black wings glisten in the pale light. She strode like a queen among subjects. While her tail was indeed made of feathers, they matched her wings and almost glittered in the movement. Her legs shown white in their own elegant rhythm to each side of that tail. She wore what I earlier called a dance leotard, but in the moonlight I saw that it also glistened, almost sparkled as she walked. It may very well actually be composed of tiny feathers as a natural covering. Only her face and neck, her hands and legs were bare.
I walked faster to catch up to her side. And glancing down verified what I suspected. For all practical purposes, she was nearly as naked as the day she was born.
“Does that disturb, or excite you?” She asked.
“A little exciting, but far more sensible than having to wear clothes,” I replied. “And you are a Harpy, so exciting fits the ‘job description'.”
She sighed at this. “You understand me too well. And after I left the last time, I knew we still had unfinished business.”
“And that is?” I asked.
She rolled her eyes at me. “Just as I said the first time. You are to write my story.”
Now I understood far more about her, and I wanted to know more. “Tell me about your life, whatever you want me to know.”
Harpy talked as we walked, telling me tales that made our Greek legends into limping, warped sea stories told over too many drinks in the port taverns. She told of exciting rescues at sea, where she had risked her life to lead their ships into safe harbors or into the eyes of hurricanes where they could ride out the storms while she rested in the rigging above them.
She told me of taking human lovers, only to have them lose their minds and try to kill her in a fit of passion.
And she told of the problems with finding another harpy mate, as there was so much distrust in the species. They had a tradition of the male leaving the female to hatch and raise the young, only to come back and try to kill them as a rite of passage for the younglings. Those that survived remained alive. With honest sadness, she told of having to kill her own father after he had killed her mother while she was trying to defend her young.
We wound up sitting on an old fallen tree trunk and I listened while she talked and the moon moved through the sky toward the horizon. I would ask questions to make sure I understood what happened, occasionally asking why this, or how come that? Harpy was quite patient with me, even though these stories brought her anger, her pain, her fears, worries, and sadness to the surface.
Once, she even put her head on my shoulder and I stroked her hair to comfort her as she sobbed ages-old grief out for perhaps the first time in her very long life.
At last the stories wound down. She had found peace with her life, her existence.
It had taken a human to listen, to understand, to empathize with how and why she had come to that point.
“So, what are your plans now?” I finally asked.
“Oh, I have plans, to be sure.” Her eyes again found their intense green fire.
“And know this, our paths will cross again.” She said with a tight warning in her voice. But then her eyes softened as she looked deep into mine. “But I’ll never forget how you helped me tonight.”
As we both stood, she stretched and fluffed out her wings and tail. Cocking one hip and placing a hand on it, with her elbow out, she looked me over with a close eye. “You are something else. And you’ve done something no other human has ever achieved. You’ve earned my respect. But the saw cuts both ways. You owe my life story written out.” She walked a few paces away, and her magnificent wings extended as if to sweep her into the now lighter sky. “This doesn’t mean we are friends, or even on the same side. It just means, well,” her eyes glistened a bit. “Thanks.”
Turning from side to side and straightening some feathers back into place, again her eyes looked over into mine. “I’ll be back to check on you. And I do know how to read, and where to find your books. I can always come back to insist on revisions.” Raising a finger on one hand, claw extended.
I smiled at this. “You do have a way of making your point.”
She smiled honestly in return. “Of course, I haven’t told you all the stories I know. So we have volumes to - what is that word you call it? Oh, yes: collaborate on. We will be collaborating through many volumes. That is, if those two spirit guides of yours don’t manage to kill you off too early.”
Then she sheathed that claw again and walked toward me, standing suddenly within inches of my face in very few steps. Her eyes were all that I could see, but I felt her heat and her very pleasant breath, much like flowering sumac or Russian olive.
Her hand came up and softly held my chin, as she bent toward me and kissed my lips long and lovingly. At last she let me go and stood back again, her hands on my shoulders
“Jude is right, John Earl Stark. You are just too cute for words.”
At that, she turned and ran a couple of steps, then swept up into the early morning sky. Quickly her dark form was lost to sight.
X
THE VERY NEXT INSTANT I found myself circled tightly by Sal, Jude and Hermione, all facing away from me to locate Harpy.
“She’s gone,” I said.
“Where were you, what happened, why didn’t you wake us?” A chorus of questions and meows greeted me as they all turned toward me.
At last they quieted until I could say anything at all.
“It was just as you suspected, the same reason you came to me and sold me on this job,” I said. “You are all wanting someone to write your stories. Harpy is no different. But she did say this: she is neither ally nor enemy. And she will try to avoid our path when she can. She only wants what any of us want - a chance to be understood while she makes her own way as best she can through life. But she is also clear that our paths will cross from time to time.”
We talked as we turned back again toward my small cabin.
This human, his two spirit-guides, and a shape-shifting red tabby cat were again walking back up normal cow paths on the side of a very ordinary pasture. Back to my simple cabin I called home.
Because I had a stack of stories to write, after all.
Notes: Harpy is introduced here, and followed this with a long series of 6 total stories where she figures as a main character or key supportive one. In this story, we learn more about the cat Hermione here, and meet a few other ghosts as well. All in all, an interesting few days for John Earl Stark.