Funk-N-Fiction

Finishing out this 10th year of the Halloween Flash Fiction event is a little Halloween Chaos, thanks to Amy Lane and characters from her Hedge Witches Lonely Hearts Club world!

Chaos the Youngest Centurion
By Amy Lane

*Note—The Nine Centurions (witches familiars) appear in The Hedge Witches Lonely Hearts Club, a Halloween based series that can be found here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09H6QBQ5N?binding=kindle_edition&searchxofy=true&ref_=dbs_s_aps_series_rwt_tkin&qid=1730409283&sr=8-8

Chaos and the other Centurions also appear in a free short story to be found here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/remaining-hedge-106080612

This particular post was inspired by a picture of Chaos himself, for the Flash Fiction contest.
It seemed too coincidental that Chaos was there, for the writing, right during his favorite part of year.

Isis was just so pleased.

“There is a baby coming,” she announced to the nine one glorious late autumn afternoon.

The sun poured through the trees of the giant land pentacle like syrup, and the Nine had simply met, like ordinary clowders do, to groom themselves and each other and to catch up on the news of the coven. Certain tidbits escaped during these times:

• The baker had started baking fish treats just for the Nine. Be sure to visit his dwelling, with the woodworker, his mate.
• The coven leader and his Mate had just portaled through to another great magic moment far away in the world. Whiskers should be alert for great spells that they could all be part of, and of forces that might whirl them away into vast, starlit nights.
• The young man who liked the wheeled contraption was joyously whirring through the paths that connected the pentacle this fine afternoon—be aware of him while crossing the street because while the Centurions would undoubtably remain unscathed, the coven had, as of yet, not learned to fly.

All of this gossip and more, accrued by the Nine, was noteworthy, but Isis had undoubtably secured the juiciest tidbit. She sat in a sunbeam, licking a delicate calico paw, and told them smugly that there would be a child, an infant, who would toddle after the Nine with the time honored call of “KIITTEEEE!” and they could enjoy the oncoming mayhem with open feline hearts.

Glorious, glorious mayhem.

But Chaos had already known.

“Of course she’s pregnant,” he said, pouncing on a sunbeam while Arthur tried vainly to shush him. “I knew the night she conceived.”

“Shit,” Arthur muttered.

“You lie,” Isis sputtered, dropping her paw into the dust half-groomed. “I sleep on their hearth—I knew when she knew!”

Chaos grinned at her, then swiped at a vole who was unlucky enough to stumble into a meeting of witches’ familiars (what were the fucking odds!) and, after batting it to Arthur who stared at it in horror, started licking his paw with smugness.

“No, no. I was there. The night they conceived. I knew what would happen.”

“How would you know that was the night?” Clover asked. Clover was their leader, an enormous, dignified cat with a mighty coat that looked magical when covered with golden sun-lit dust-motes. Chaos adored Clover—although the gray cat seemed to regard Chaos with a somnolent disdain.

Arthur called it “patience” but Chaos was sure that wasn’t the word.

“I helped them conceive,” Chaos said in total seriousness. There was a bird overhead. He could hear it. If he brought it down, would it explode in feathers, or would there be sweet, gamy meat? Maybe an egg. Oooh…

He became aware that the Nine were all staring at him in bafflement, and he tried to remember what he’d said last.

Oh yes.

“I did,” he said, going back to licking his paw.

“Chaos,” Arthur said gently. Chaos and Arthur had hunted often together. Chaos loved Arthur even better than he loved Clover. Chaos and Arthur had fought in glorious battle together. Arthur had his back.

“Yes?” Chaos batted his enormous green eyes at Arthur, and Arthur twitched magnificent whiskers against a pumpkin orange coat.

“I’m sure everybody is wondering exactly how you could help them conceive. You’re a cat. They are human. There’s not exactly room for you between them.”

Chaos laughed, as he was supposed to. “No,” he said, pointy teeth exposed. “That would be silly. I mean I was the impetus between their coupling that night. That’s how I helped them conceived.”

Arthur licked his whiskers as though parsing this out. “Uhm, Chaos, it’s not as though any  of the witches have difficulty coupling.”

“Every couple fucks like voles,” Isis exclaimed, disbelief dripping from her tone. “Every night, you can hear it. This will be the most fertile space of property for generations—I assure you, nobody needs a black cat with the attention span of a vole’s tail to couple in our coven.”

There was a general purr of assent, and a slight chattering cackle from Chaos, before Arthur urged him to answer.

“So, given that, how do you know it was you?”

Chaos chattered some more. “Oh that’s easy. Arthur, remember before we moved when we took out the mole that was ruining the garden?”

Arthur nodded. “Yes. He was quite large.”

“He was, and the woman and coven leader were so upset, because apparently the garden was for food.”

“That’s unlikely,” Clover said, sounding upset at the thought.

“Humans have very odd ideas about what’s edible,” Arthur supplied. “They won’t eat buts at all.”

Clover rolled his eyes.

“So we took out the mole,” Chaos said. He gave the other Centurions a sly look. “It was a glorious battle.”

“We’re sorry we missed it,” Isis said dryly.  She often sounded like that—Chaos took it as a sign of love. “What does a dead mole have to do with a gravid human woman?”

“Oh!” Chaos opened his mouth and panted with glee, his tail twitching. “That’s easy. Arthur asked me to dispose of the corpse, so I did.”

They all stared at him in absolute blankness, golden, orange, green, and blue eyes all glowing with puzzled interest.

Arthur got it first, batting his green eyes in disbelief.

“Oh, Chaos…” he said, sounding weak. “You didn’t.”

“Of course I did,” Chaos said in surprise. “She’d been so sad about the garden, you see. I thought she’d want to see the corpse of the enemy.”

“I’m sure she was overjoyed,” Isis said, and while she sounded horrified, Chaos was sure that was just how Isis sounded when she was sincere.

“She screamed with happiness,” Chaos told them, shivering with his own. “She screamed, and then he screamed and then he came out and took the mole out back for a disposal ritual while I went inside for a treat.”

There had been milk with the treat. That woman knew how to treat a pussycat right.

“And then…” Arthur said, as though he had no choice.

“And then the man came in and said he was going to take a shower, the woman said, ‘My hero,’ and then she followed him into the shower. There was frantic coupling that night, and it was all because of me.” All of which had seemed unfair because Chaos had been the one to bring the dead villain to her door but whatever, there’d been milk.

Arthur’s whiskers twitched. “That was a moon and a half ago,” he said, calculating. “I… I…”

“Oh God,” Isis muttered.

“I do believe he’s right,” Arthur finished, splooting with joy in the sun.

“I don’t believe this,” Isis said. “That child…”

“Conceived under the Chaos moon,” Arthur muttered. “Goddess help us all.”

“No help needed,” Chaos said. “I’m here! Who wants to hunt moles?”

The silence was not reassuring, but Arthur hadn’t left yet, so Chaos had hope the hunt would be glorious indeed.