“The Harpies might be a little late.”

“What? Who the hell do they think they are?! The meeting always starts at midnight.” Megaera threw her clipboard down with a practised flourish, clattering on the stone floor.

“Relax, sister!” Tisiphone smirked. “They have some avenging to do on the way, but they’ll be here. Just go and chat to the Gorgons while we’re waiting.”

Two of the Gorgons reclined on plump chairs, Stheno soaking her claws in a manicure dish. Euryale swept a nail file around each of her talons in turn, one fang poking over her lip as she furrowed her brow in concentration.

“Where’s Medusa?”

“She’ll be here any minute….she did a lot of smiting last night, and needed her beauty sleep.”

At the thought of their hideous big sister being in any way connected with beauty, Stheno and Euryale began to snigger, just as Medusa swept into the room. She stood towering over Stheno, the serpents at the crown of her head writhing furiously with diabolical hisses.

“You’re wearing my breastplate!” she snarled at her little sister. “Did I say you could borrow that?”

“I knew you weren’t planning on wearing it today.”

“That’s not the point! It’s brand new, I should be the one to wear it first.” Medusa’s snakes were weaving a demonic dance, striking out with forked tongues flashing.

The oldest of the Furies came up behind her with a massive silver platter and soothing voice. “Welcome my love, thank you for coming. Would you like something to snack on? “

Medusa turned her attention to Alecto, and a dozen pairs of serpentine eyes swivelled with her. “Perhaps…..what do you have?” she sniffed.

“We’ve got some delectable braggart tongue – very juicy – or some lawyers’ livers.” She brought the platter closer to Medusa and tilted her head toward the ivory pile gleaming in the moonlight. “Or how about some bones of bastards to sharpen your fangs on?”

Medusa curled a talon around one just as the Harpies entered the room in a flutter of dark wings. It was always an effort greeting each other at these meetings; feathers poking into serpent eyes, claws bouncing off armour, the risk of a snakebite when leaning in for a kiss. Salutations over, the nine Goddesses of Wrath settled into their lounge chairs with deep sighs and dark hearts: the Gorgons, the Furies, and the Harpies, the unholy trinity.

“Hey Medusa,” Celaeno called out. “I hear you’ve been kicking arse lately….how many men did you turn to stone this month?”

“Thirty three” Medusa grinned. “And every single one deserved it, believe me.”

“You better be careful, Zeus might have an issue with such wanton wrath.”

Medusa snorted, one of her serpents opening a sleepy eye to see if it was worth rearing up for. “Fuck Zeus!”

The Harpies recoiled in unison as the Furies each looked warily into the sky for a lightning bolt of retaliation. None came, and as she reached for another bastard bone Medusa spat “He wouldn’t dare punish me – I’d like to see him try. Ha! Zeus is a pussy.” And she crunched down on a rib, shattering it with a fang and sending pale fragments scattering across the stones.

Megaera cleared her throat and tapped the clipboard. “Shall we get down to business then? We’ll just get a round of drinks in first.”

The waiter approached with a tray of martinis, eyes downcast and heart hammering. As he lowered the tray, Medusa glared at him and growled “They’d better be dry martinis.”

And as nine pairs of narrowed eyes turned his way, the tray began to tremble.

© bellmusker 2008