GAZING INTO HER MIRROR, DRAGOMIRA BEGAN SCOLDING her reflection, wagging an admonishing forefinger.
“I can’t take you two anywhere! You’re supposed to be quiet, my Ptitchkins, you promised! Otherwise I’ll never take you out of your cage again. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Your Graciousness, we get it! Message received loud and clear. Radio silence!” sang the tiny golden birds at the top of their voices, rubbing against Dragomira’s neck to earn her forgiveness.
She gently patted their little heads and they continued swinging enthusiastically on their golden perches—this time, silently.
“Ahem, Your Graciousness, Your Graciousness…”
Nearby, the creatures in blue dungarees were wringing their hands in distress and coughing softly to attract her attention.
“What’s the matter, my Lunatrixes?” she asked, turning round.
“The Abominari has snapped its nerves,” one of them told her, his eyes impossibly round.
Dragomira went over to the double-bass case and went inside. She hastily climbed the staircase leading to her workroom, which was strictly private. A creature just over a foot tall was standing in front of the skylight, scratching angrily at the glass. It whirled round, growling and glaring evilly at everyone within reach. The Abominari had stumpy legs, long arms and a skeletal body, and its head was covered in a greyish skin which gave off a nauseating stench. An iridescent white substance was dripping from its wide mouth, which revealed two sharp, protruding fangs.
“The Abominari has performed bitings on the Goranov plant,” explained one of the Lunatrixes. “We did attempt to initiate preventative measures but our limbs sustained stinging scratches.”
The two Lunatrixes held out their badly scratched arms as evidence of the violent encounter. When she saw this, Dragomira exploded with anger—anger which doubled in intensity when she saw the poor Goranov, which had been attacked and was writhing in pain. Sap was slowly oozing from one of its stems and pooling on the earth of its pot.
“ABOMINARI!” shouted Dragomira. “This is intolerable, you’ve gone too far! What on earth is the matter with you?”
The creature leapt onto some boxes and growled, revealing its pointed fangs and filthy claws.
“Curse you! Curse you all! You’re not my mistress, old lady, you are nothing to me! You won’t be so full of yourself when my Master comes to get me…”
“No, of course not,” replied Dragomira with cool indifference. “Let me remind you that you’ve been saying the same thing for fifty years or more and your so-called Master still hasn’t come.”
The Abominari gave an angry growl.
“You are nothing to me, do you hear? You’re just a stinking pile of garbage! A dirty speck of blowfly excrement!”
At these words, all the creatures huddling in the four corners of the workroom shuddered with indignation. Dragomira walked over to the boxes on top of which the insolent Abominari was arrogantly perched. But as soon as she came close, the creature leapt down onto the floor and pounced on one of the Lunatrixes, seizing him from behind and tightly squeezing his neck as if to strangle him.
“I warn you, old lady, if you touch me I’ll kill him, then I’ll tear you and your pathetic menagerie to shreds!” the Abomina
