The Museum of Curious Antiquities and Oddities in the city of Dunsmouth, Massachusetts was a quiet, sterile place, except for the tumbling shadow dancing between the artifacts on her tiptoes.
The security guard, a portly man, waved his beam around in the darkness, grunting from having to get up from his soft seat when he heard the disturbance. "Who's there?" he called out, but the tendril blackness answered him instead with silence. "Jacob, is that you? You been drinking again?"
The shadow moved again and the air carried a soft swooshing sound.
The man's hand reached for his .38 revolver, the sound of metal unsheathed from hard-boiled leather. He cocked back the hammer as he trained his long light on the shadows before him. "I know you're in here, come out and surrender!"
The shadow watched.
The shadow danced again.
The guard moved, each step with hesitation. The light shook in his hand, his breathing growing heavy as perspiration ran down his rolling jowls.
Powerful legs landed on his shoulders, throwing the guard face-forward on the stone tile, the light and revolver bouncing wildly across the floor. The man used his pudgy hands to reach up, but the woman snickered, her thick muscles around his neck like a boa constrictor, choking the life out of him.
"Hala, habeebi. Let the legs do the work. Your slumber will soon draw nigh," she whispered, her accent thick. In moments, the man's purple face gasped his last as she heard the satisfying snap of neck bones.
She said, "Sleep well, my dear habibat alqalb."
The woman turned off the flashlight and picked up the pistol. She rummaged through the guard's pockets and found the small rings of keys. She blended away into the darkness, disappearing back into the long shadows, her padded feet the sole sound in the cold museum while the body she left behind twitched.
The woman reached the door marked, "Storage. Employees Only." She tested several keys before one fitted and clicked.
The storage smelled old and ancient, a heavy parchment stench mixed with an underlying gangrene. After closing the door, she turned on the light switch nearby, dozens of metal lamps hanging high above the floor flickering the grand room in a soft flaxen light. Paintings, statues, an Egyptian gold-plated sarcophagus lay cluttered about the many tall, rusted shelves lined with books, ancient scrolls, skulls, and jars filled with strange, hellish objects.
The woman, dressed in teal-colored tea dress with slits running up her legs, tucked the revolver in a small tool bag tied around her outer gold corset, laden with long needles and knives. She bent down, removing a red piece of chalk from her tool bag.
Carefully, she drew a large pentagram with a lidless eye in the center, followed by foul arcane symbols at each point.
She donned black gloves, stepped in the center of the circle, and closed her eyes. Her raven hair flowed down her black as she removed several pins driving them into her fingers. The woman winced from the pain but blocked it out. She lifted one hand above her head while holding the other out before her.
"S'lith cal'fit d'list! S'lith cal'fit d'list! Show me what I seek!" she said, her voice strong, growling, and demonic. Her eyes flashed crimson when she opened them, her hands glowing with magical fire.
The Awakening has begun.
"The Awakening?"
The End Times. The convergence of the stars when the world will be remade in my image. Those who served me shall be rewarded. Those who brought me to this new world of flesh ready for my sensual touch and loving whip shall know ecstasy only gods can endure.
"I only want what is rightfully mine, no longer an exile, and to punish the vagabond who stole my kingdom and my heart!"
You shall have your due. I am near. Come to me, Jasmine, Princess of the Desert. Claim your reward and you shall return to your husband's kingdom, seize the reins of power for your own, your subjects to serve your every lustful whim. I have many painful and lustful delights I shall show you if you obey me.
Jasmine smiled as she left the circle, the feminine voice appearing in her mind as three pairs of eyes, staring directly at her soul. To her, her flesh tingled from the sensual psychic touch of six hands upon her body, sending goosebumps over every inch along her brown skin.
She moved along the aisles, the hands rewarding her with a sensuous touch here and there, allowing her to hone in closer to the prize that awaited. As Jasmine turned right, she gasped and stopped as if slammed into a wall, her bosom heaving and eyes wide. The last touch took her by surprise as she felt an electrifying burning in her body and her face flushed hotly.
Oh, so delectable you are. Many secrets I shall grant you.
"Allow me to concentrate on the task at hand!"
Very well. I sense you. Come to the crate before you.
Jasmine stopped before a large crate covered in a giant green tarp. She pulled it away, revealing a wooden crate painted with many glyphs along with writing in her native Arabic tongue. No sooner than she removed the covering, many lights flickered, burning themselves out, plunging many parts of the room in darkness.
I am here, disciple. Free me.
Jasmine removed her gloves. With a vicious snarl, Jasmine's hands turned into claws and rent the wooden crate apart with a couple of quick swipes. Inside lay a lot of packing hay that fell away, revealing a tall cast iron safe.
Retrieving a stethoscope from her bag, she listened intently to each tumbler in the safe roll and click. When she heard the satisfying lock from the last tumbler, she turned the handle.
The smell of thunderous rain filled the chamber. Jasmine dove out of the way as lightning struck the oversized safe, burning away the green paint.
She rolled as another bolt where she laid a bare moment earlier, setting ancient books on fire, the entire shelf erupting into a great ball of flames.
Vile laughter chased after the woman as she ran deeper into the shadows, drawing her small .22 and the guard's .38.
"Come out and play with me, my dear princess," said a voice, suave, masculine. "Iago, fly. Deal with the pest."
Jafar, thought Jasmine as she slid underneath a shelf, opening her black bag. She pulled out a figurine of a small red and white striped tiger, its eyes consisting of shimmering rubies. She whispered, "Come, Rajah, and serve your lady."
At that moment, a foul, deformed parrot emerged into view, squawking, its hellacious sound shooting shivers down Jasmine's spine. Mangy crimson and blood feathers wilted off the beast's body as it bent down its sharp beak inches away from the princess' face. "What—what have we here—here?" it asked.
Jasmine lifted her revolver, but the demonic-looking parrot swung out with a feathered claw swiping away the gun just as she fired. She rolled away as the beak stabbed through the bottom metal shelf. With all her strength, she shouldered the large rack, tipping it over on the man-sized bird.
Black bolts of lightning danced along the aisle, Jasmine dodging, but fraying the end strands of her hair.
"You cannot run from me, princess. Take your place as my pet, and you will have a place in my harem when I take your husband's kingdom for my own," said Jafar, his eyes glowing as foul energies coursed through his aged body. "Of course, I expect you to produce many heirs for me. Many."
As the sorcerer sought out Jasmine, he hefted his scepter adorned with the gold head of a cobra. The fallen shelf righted itself, everything placed back in perfect order.
"Get up, Iago, and bring me that bitch's blood."
The demon parrot fluttered, but as the infernal creature rose, a rumble erupted from the bottom shelf, the small figurine of a tiger turning into a massive feline beast the size of an elephant.
The rack fell upon Iago once again, his remaining sound a gasp. The demon bird dissipated leaving behind a wisp of foul yellowish smoke.
Jafar narrowed serpent-like eyes at the gigantic tiger, his own body transforming into a giant cobra equal in size to the summoned creature.
Jasmine emerged from the shadows, both guns in hand, firing. The snake turned as the hailstorm of bullets found their marks, his tail whipping out, striking the princess dead center in her abdomen. The blow launched her into the air, crashing into a table ladened with priceless clay jars.
"Rajah!" Jasmine gasped through a bloody mouth.
The tiger attacked, but the sorcerer met the charge, clamping giant fangs into the beast's back, puncturing deep. In a breath, the feline convulsed, its body turning into a fine mist before wisping away into nothingness.
"You're no match for me, princess. Now, where are you?"
"Here, Jafar."
The giant snake turned, Jasmine standing next to the opened safe, revealing a large statue made of the purest ivory. The statue was a woman with six arms with three faces upon one neck. Someone crafted the statue to look alluring with an oversized bare bosom, a stone wrap around the waist hiding nothing, sensual legs ending with taloned feet.
"Get away from it! I've come to destroy, not release her!"
The princess reached up, kissing the statue's red painted lips.
The construct's eyes moved as Jafar transformed himself back into his human form, his scepter in hand.
The six arms wrapped around Jasmine, gripping tightly with her sharpened hands, blood exploding from the woman's flesh. She muffled a scream while in the statue's embrace.
The sorcerer leveled his snake-headed staff at the statue, lightning spewing forth, striking both the creature and the princess. The statue crumbled away, the woman's wounds healing as she grew in size, unfazed by the spell. Two faces, identical to Jasmine's original face, sprouted out of her left and right side of her head. Four more arms exploded out of her body.
The Left Face said, "Pathetic magic, mortal."
"For you fight against a goddess far beyond your comprehension," said the Right Face.
"But I will enjoy ripping you apart," said all three faces in unison.
"It will not end this way!" screamed Jafar as he raised his scepter above his head, disappearing and leaving behind a puff of gray smoke.
The three faces said in unison, "Oh, but it has, mortal. For the Awakening is at hand and I shall herald in the Age of the End Times."
The door to the storage room burst open. The six-armed goddess cast a perfunctory glance in the direction of three guards armed with revolvers. They froze as they met her six eyes.
The Left Face said, "You are disgusting. A pig."
"And you are old, weak in vitality," finished the Right Face.
With a wave of her six arms, two of the guards, collapsed to the ground, their eyes staring lifelessly. The remaining guard raised his weapon, but couldn't fire.
The goddess closed in on him, slapped his weapon away and hefted him up to eye level, her hot breath on his face.
"But you're just right for my exquisite desires," said the Middle Face. Her clothing dissolved away, one of her three left hands running down the length of her sensual body. A thick tongue slicked out of her middle face, running up the guard's neck and face. "A handsome masculine gift to welcome me into your overripe world."
All three faces spoke in unison, "Before its obliteration."
The man screamed.