In a small, cramped, untidy and somewhat dingy kitchen, two women sat, chatting idly. At a glance, there was nothing in particular that would recommend them as sisters, friends, or even distant acquaintances. The one woman meshed well with her surroundings, her frazzled hair a similar shade to the washed-out yellow walls, the sweatsuit she was wearing faded and stained, and her flip-flop-clad feet untended, the nails bearing the remnants of a chipped polish applied weeks before. The other woman veritably glowed off of the background, as out of place in this setting as a silk blouse amongst wifebeaters. Her black hair was perfectly styled, its normal straightness teased into soft, '40s-era waves; her makeup was flawlessly applied, and her clothes were clearly highly expensive. Her feet were not visible, but the black satin pumps she wore suggested, in their elegance, that the toenails would be perfectly painted, and doubtless in some classic color.
"Can you really be certain of this, though?" Even her voice was lovely, a rich, sulty contralto that imbibed her words with a sensuality she may or may have not intended.
"Well, I think so," the other woman replied, in a voice that, while not altogether unpleasant, had something of a shrillness to it that suggested she did a lot of yelling.
"Has he been acting strangely?"
The subject of their dialogue was as of yet unclear; however, with the bottle-blonde's next words, it became increasingly obvious that they were discussing the possible infidelity of the blonde woman's husband, or perhaps lover.
"Yes. He isn't coming home when he says he will, he's constantly on the phone - but I never hear what he says - and his shirts smell like perfume." The woman paused. "I don't wear perfume... Do you think he's cheating on me, Kare?"
The more fashionable woman, Kare, arched a brow. "Do I believe he is being unfaithful? Yes, I do. There is no way to avoid that conclusion." Her manner was rather cold, and the question as to how it was these two knew each other, and came to be having this conversation, was once again raised.
The blonde woman's shoulders slumped, but her expression became angry, and her voice darkened. "I'll kill him."
The brunette shrugged. "Do as you please. However, I did not come here to discuss your love life."
"I'll kill him and his worthless brats." The blonde ignored her.
Kare rolled her eyes, wondering that she had even bothered coming here. It was a cheap, tasteless home, to be sure, and its inhabitants - well, to be fair, she had only yet met the one - fit right in. She eyed the bulging, distended stomach of her counterpart, so unlike her own slenderness, with distaste.
The blond sneered, still ignoring Kare. "Kids, come here!" she shouted, her previously slightly shrill voice reaching a pitch that caused Kare's ears pain.
Kare stood with a sigh. "If you are quite intent on homicide, and ignoring me besides which, then I shall take my leave. I see now that it was pointless even entering this place."
She turned, lifting her winter coat off of the back of her chair, and slipped it over her sweater, taking great care not to disturb the bow at the neckline, lest the drape be ruined.
"Good-bye," she said. "I doubt very much that I shall ever see you again."
"Oh, don't leave, Karina!" The blonde seemed suddenly to remember that she even had a guest. "Just let me do this - it'll only take a minute - and then we can talk some more."
Kare - Karina, as it turned out - sneered. "As lovely as that sounds, I think I will pass."
She turned to go, but as she did so, she caught sight of the children. There were three of them, two boys and a girl. The taller of the boys was unremarkable, as was his sister, but the younger one...
She paused, studying him.
The blonde woman noticed this, and looked at Karina quizically. "What?"
"Do not kill this one..." Karina said distractedly.
"Why?"
"I want him."
"Are you hungry?"
"Not yet... But I feel that I soon shall be."
The blonde woman, Meredith, shrugged, apparently not finding this terribly peculiar. "Fine," she said, smirking. "But you have to stay and talk to me if I give him to you."
Karina was now fully willing to do that. "Very well," she assented. "You eat yours now, and I shall save mine for later." She removed her coat and seated herself once more, watching disinterestedly as her host, Meredith, went about the business of consuming two of her own children. The third, the small, scrawny child with the wild brown hair, trembled against her, both unable and unwilling to extract himself from the grip she kept him in.
At length, Meredith too sat down, and smiled at her guest. She patted her bloated stomach with a smile, laughing. "There! That bastard will be shocked when he gets home, and then he will be next!"
Karina shook her head, trying to still the jiggling of her impatient foot. "How wonderful for you." She wondered how long their talking would take.
-----
Four hours later, Meredith watched Karina leave her home, the boy in tow. She reflected with a frown on the woman's sudden fixation on her son, but then shrugged. Those rich types were usually all repressed and such, and maybe she really was just hungry, anyway. She didn't seem like the type who would eat in front of other people, at any rate.
Feeling a sudden need to go to the bathroom, Meredith smiled. She herself possessed no such inhibitions, and who knew that kids could taste so good...?
----
Karina and the child - she had yet to ask his name - passed a good portion of the two hour car ride in utter silence, puntuated only by his shaky breathing and the tapping of her fingers against the steering wheel. The car was lit only by the glowing of the dashboard, and the occasional glare from the streetlights that created the only opportunity to differentiate the sleek black vehicle from the surrounding darkness.
She was wound impossibly tight, on edge and irritable. It took every ounce of her self-control not to squirm in her seat like an anxious schoolgirl; even without looking at him (though she did cast the odd glance every now and again) she could feel his presence at her side.
Karina was very lucky, she realized, that Meredith was so stupid. If she were any smarter, it was highly unlikely that Karina would have made off with her prize as easily as she had. The woman would surely have realized that something was off.
Initially, Karina had gone to Meredith's home only because she happened to be visiting a nearby city, and other witches were rare in her state. It was a novelty, therefore, to meet one of her kind, and she had been embarrassingly excited to actually speak with one. But Meredith had been a completely letdown - somehow, Karina had expected someone more like herself, someone she could relate to - and Karina had been utterly disgusted by the woman. Her home was cheap, her clothes were cheap, she herself was cheap. Everything was in disrepair - her marriage (how she could allow any man, let alone that scum, to use her like that was beyond Karina), her home, her very body... Karina recollected, with a grimace, the protuberance of the woman's stomach, indicating a 'bad match', so to speak, with her familiar. Doubtless he had been chosen out of desperation, and not because of a connection...
With that thought, Karina's eyes once more roved over to the malnourished child buckled in the seat next to her own, and her gaze turned exhultant.
A witch was a being, almost identical in appearance to a human, who exerted power over her world; one who posessed magic, it could be said. They were not inherently strong - by themselves, most were actually rather weak - but bonding with a familiar could increase their powers almost exponentially, and the stronger the 'match' with the familiar, the greater the power increase.
A witch with a perfect match - one hand-selected by fate to be given to only her - could attain dizzying amounts of power; her own innate power would be increased a thousandfold. But such matches were rare, very rare...
Feeling the pulse of the child's energy, Karina grinned like a fool. She was almost positive that she had found her 'perfect match'.
----
"Where are we going?"
Karina was jolted out of her reverie by the sound of a soft, high, hesitant voice. Black eyes slid to the right, looking at the child. He flushed and avoided her gaze, curling into himself.
"To my home," she answered, forcing her voice to be soothing.
The child chanced a peek at her, then looked away once more. "Why?"
Karina ignored this question in favor of asking one of her own. "What is your name?"
The child was silent for a moment, then said, "Grisha."
Karina wondered where Meredith might have gotten such a name. "Did you want to stay at your own home, Grisha? Do you not want to go to mine?"
For the first time, the child, Grisha, looked at her fully. "No. Anywhere is better than there."
Karina wondered at that, but nodded. Silence blanketed the car once more.
About ten minutes later, Grish asked in a whisper, "Are you going to eat me?"
"No. Never."
The car was silent.
----
At some point during the commute, Grisha had fallen asleep, and so Karina was forced to either wake him up or carry him into her home. Deciding that it was best to allow him to sleep off the trauma of the day, Karina lifted him from his seat with surprising tenderness and stepped lightly up to her front door, heels clicking pleasingly against the pavement. She allowed a gentle smile to lift her red lips as she gazed at him wonderingly. She had waited so long, so long for a familiar, and after her first was snatched away from her, to be given a second chance...? And one so good...? It was almost too much for her to comprehend, and yet it seemed so right. Now that she had seen him, had spoken with him, had held him, she could not imagine a world without Grisha in it.
To be certain, the bond between witch and familiar was advantageous only to the witch. Through a process similar to childbirth, only in reverse - the term 'unbirthing', she believed, was sometimes used - the witch would pull the familiar into her body, where he would just... Exist. Frequently, he was then ignored, and served as nothing more than a power source for the witch. And, because witches could not die a natural death, he would be forced to exist like that, cut off from every sort of stimulus, except the discomfort of whatever tight clothing the witch might wear, indefinitely.
But, looking at the sleeping Grisha in her arms, Karina realized that she had no such designs. Oh, he would be hers, of course, and they would be fully bonded; but she would never - could never - ignore him, could never be so cruel.
She laid him in her own bed that night, tucking him in carefully and sliding beneath the blankets next to him. She luxuriated in the coolness of the silk sheets against her flesh, the warmth of her nightgown, and the pulsing energy of the child. She pulled him closer, up against her full breasts.
Though she was taking a risk, she thought she would delay the bonding for a few weeks, perhaps a month. Grisha was weak, and clearly malnourished, and the trauma of the bonding could damage him if she were not incredibely careful. And, besides, she wanted them to be more than physically bonded. She wanted to get to know him, this wondrous creature who slept so soundlessly beside her.
She gave him a gentle squeeze. Three weeks... Three weeks of talking, of playing, of coddling, and she would make him hers.
Karina fell asleep with a contented smile.
