In the Name of Lady Bast
By Just Ruth
(Set after Defending Your Life)
Dean actually liked Halloween; free candy everywhere, cute kids, and cuter ladies – what was not to like? Sam sometimes freaked out at the idea of seeing the stuff of hunts walking around, but hey, the real monsters never looked anything like that adorable little pink mummy or that cool kid in the wheelchair dressed as a Good Humor truck and that sweet blonde witch with the black cat in her arms.
Dean stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk, earning at dirty look from Daddy Dracula shepherding two Disney princesses, a walking robot and three zombies while carrying a sleepy lion on his shoulder. Dean reversed course and left the sidewalk for the street to move faster.
There was the witch again. She was a pretty blonde and dressed modestly compared to other witches over the age of ten. Dean hurried, trying to see her face because she’d looked familiar and she couldn’t be whom he thought she looked like. At least he hoped she wasn’t, because that would open a whole new can of worms for Sam and he to deal with.
He broke into a trot to get ahead of her at the next corner and gained the sidewalk to casually stroll past. She was gone.
His phone rang, “yeah Sam?”
“Score enough candy?”
“Shut up. Pick me up at the corner of Maple. I’ll tell you when I see you – and nobody’s giving out apples, if that’s what you want.”
“Meaning you already ate the Mallow cups, jerk.”
Seated in the car next to the sidewalk, Sam frowned at Dean’s story.
“Jo Harvelle? But she’s dead – we know she’s dead.”
“Yeah.” Dean growled. He stared out the window. He’d seen her death. She and Ellen took out a hellhound to give him and Sam a chance at killing Lucifer – which failed.
That was why the creature that called itself by the name of the ancient god Osiris resurrected her to ‘judge” Dean. Except Jo wouldn’t play his game – even when she came to kill him with the old gas stove. She broke the window so the natural gas fumes would not fill the room.
She was a smart lady who deserved better.
“Is that her?”
It was Jo, dressed in black with a pointed hat walking with a beautiful brown skinned woman wearing a scarf over her black hair and an exotic silk outfit that looked Middle Eastern.
“Jo!” Dean yelled.
The exotic woman thrust Jo behind her and hissed. Her liquid dark eyes turned glowing amber.
“Hesra! No!” Jo caught her shoulder. “He’s the one I told you about.”
The woman’s eyes became normal. She looked Dean up and down, then gave an unimpressed sniff.
“Dean, I can’t really talk now.”
“But you’re alive,” Sam came over. Hesra hissed again, but her eyes didn’t turn color.
“Yeah, well, that’s kind of Osiris’ fault.” Jo shrugged.
Hesra’s voice was low and coldly musical. “Behold, Osiris made judgments without Ma’at. Ma’at’s feather of truth is the balance against which a human heart is weighed. Those who Osiris condemned were condemned unlawfully and his brothers and sisters were chosen to reset Ma’at. The soul of Jo Harvelle was weighed and found worthy by my Lady Bast, huntress of the night.”
“We just finished a job and have to head back and report,” Jo explained.
“Can we give you a lift?” asked Dean.
“I wouldn’t mind,” Jo looked at her companion. Hesra sniffed again – and melted gracefully down to a black cat. She hopped into Jo’s arms. Dean opened the back door for them.
“Hope she doesn’t shed.” He remarked.
The cat gave him a long, disgusted look.
“So,” Sam climbed into the passenger’s side. “What were you guys doing here?’
“Well, it started with a crazy cat lady’s feud with her neighbors . . .”